Aside from vampires and gypsies, Romania’s biggest export is girls up for fucking British guys. My first post-game girlfriend was from there, as was my first free blowjob from a whore, and my first foursome. Now this young lady.
It began as a quickie ten-minute street number close as a demo set for students while I was doing one of Andy’s bootcamps. She hooked hard but you just never know so I was pleased when the text game struck home and she was obviously keen to meet. That was a Sunday and the following Friday afternoon we meet for an English tea. The closing bait I’m using these days with foreigners is to ask if they could be an English lady and drink proper tea from proper china cups because I know a great tea shop. She buys into the roleplay.
I’d decided to follow a hybrid Day 2 model using elements of different wings’ models. It went like this….
Location One – Tea Shop
This is all about building comfort. We sat face-to-face and just chatted about usual get to know each other chit chat while I focused on solid body language and tried not to talk too much. She was giving good keen eye contact and investing plenty so it felt on. I didn’t do any kino or verbal escalation. The conversation was focused on how it felt living in England and the differences to her home country. After we’d finished our pot of tea I led her 200m away to a nearby cheap pub
Location Two – Pub with alcohol
Now I wanted to start putting booze down her neck to loosen the vibe and get her sitting next to me to test light kino (mainly just seeing how close she was comfortable positioning her body relative to mine). She’s a highly educated girl so good for Intellectual Mastery. At one point I thought I’d overdone it and killed the vibe but then I started to notice the looks she was giving me and the long pauses as her mind scrambled to unpack what I’d said. That’s when I realised she was doing the “who is this guy?” double-take and my contrast game was hitting. We had one pint and time for more leading. As a side note – we never double-backed on ourselves in the location changes. It was always progressing in one direction.
Location Three – Softer vibe
I take her in to my favourite member’s bar which has dark leather sofas and mellow jazz. It’s a great DHV in and of itself and it was hear I started dropping the big-time DHV stories. In particular I did the “financial and geographical freedom” spiel and flipped all the attraction triggers with stories about my nephews and friends. I’d been hoping to kiss close here but the waiter put us in separate lounge chairs rather than the sofa so it was physically impossible. This necessitated adding in a fourth venue when I’d have rather extracted from the third.
Location Four – Bar with good atmosphere
I went for the kiss as we walked to the next bar, making a bold move on the pavement. She turned her head away but stayed close in. That’s all I needed to know it was on. We went into the basement of a cool Spanish bar for another pint and made out. At this point I still felt like the bedroom close would have to wait for another date but things progressed faster than I expected. I put her into the domincance kino position and she snuggled up nicely and when it was time to move on I did a test with the stone
The Stone: Take a girl’s hand and say “this is how you make me feel”. Then put her hand on your boner
One wing has long told me that when in doubt get your cock out. It can change a no into a yes and when this chick kept her hand on it and started rubbing I thought “ok, that’s the It’s On Moment” and I pulled her outside and bundled her into a waiting taxi.
Her: Where are we going?
I distracted her forebrain for a while and when she asked if we’re headed to my place I said yes. She nodded and accepted the inevitable. Credit to Tom for his bold extraction routine. Once we got back to Chateau RSG half the gang were getting shitfaced on imported vodka in Jambone’s room. Big Toe loaned me the cash for the cab and then as I walked in to say hello they all held up hand-drawn scorecards rating my girl a seven. Accurate.
Rather than risk her cooling down joining the party I put her in my room and told her no shoes on my carpet. Then five minutes letting her mess around on my laptop and I pounced. A great lay. Then we dressed, joined the party and we began the handover to Jambone.
Ladies, if you are dating a player and you don’t know where you stand, have a listen to Aretha Franklin. And for the men, just listen to her wonderful voice – this is how a girl can sound powerfully feminine without losing any of her charm.
This song nails it perfectly. I can fake rapport and comfort. I can fake hugs, passionate sex, hypnotic scanning and a whole host of other things. One thing I simply cannot do is fake a kiss. There’s a barrier somewhere that means I can only turn it on for a kiss if I really like the girl – like her physically and romantically.
So ladies, stop stressing about these things:
Just give him a passionate kiss and see how he matches it. If he returns it with real enthusiasm dead on the lips and commits fully, he’s into you still. If it’s distant and half-arsed, he’s found a new girl to fuck and she’s both younger and hotter than you.
There has been much discussion in Chateau RSG on how to rate girls on the 1-10 scale. We aren’t so full of ourselves that we believe girls shouldn’t be rated, as if we have somehow transcended the most basic male impulse of ranking girls. At the end of the day there is far more pleasure to be had from banging a ten than a four. The current system is thus:
<4 – Totally invisible. Utterly unthinkable
5 – You’d fuck her only if there were extreme extenuating circumstances such as violence, drugs, or a solemn obligation to a third party. Or, in Big Toe’s case, a rare flag
6 – You’d do her if it was easy, you’re horny, and you could smuggle her in and out without your friends seeing. You want her out of your house the moment you bust a nut and like eating a Big Mac meal there is a tawdy shame in the whole episode
7 – Neither shame nor glory. A nice girl who is worth some effort. Perhaps you’d take her on occasional dates and if her personality / vibe is sweet and her style your type, you’d even date her over the medium term
8 – You want to parade her around whoever will watch. You feel genuinely good about dating / fucking this girl. When your friends talk about her, they say things like “you should see his bird, she’s well hot”
9 – Simply appearing in public with her makes your heart swell with pride and random guys hate you. You consider dropping your other girls for her and occasionally calculate whether you’ve finally found the right girl to make a serious go with. She’s the realistic pinnacle of Game.
10 – She’s unrealistically hot, the sort of girl you rarely even see. When she walks into a room she’s like a beacon of value. You have no haters because men simply cannot comprehend that you’d be fucking her, so they assume you are a gay best friend. You cannot imagine any girl anywhere in the world being her superior, only an equal.
Ultimately there is no way to rate a woman on raw objective beauty. A cohesive rating system must be based on how she makes you feel and the social response you get for boning her.
I nearly fucked this one up many times and it was hard work. I was out a couple of months ago along Oxford Street and having a so-so day. There’d been a couple of instant dates but nothing really sticking so I decide to take a time-out in Wasabi to eat some cheap tofu curry. As I leave a curvy Polish-looking chick in a tight black figure-hugging t-shirt and skirt rolls past. She’s got the archetypal stripper’s body with curves all over and massive false tits (DD, she tells me later). So I open and she’s really low energy and sultry.
Within two minutes we are talking sexual when I ask her if she’s seen any girls today with a better rack than her. So we stand side by side checking out other girls on the street to see if anyone fits the bill. Once I’m sure of the hook I walk her to the nearest bar. It’s beautifully located and full of homos. We sit down in a corner by the toilets (yes, you guessed my intent). She’s strangely quiet and softly spoken like she’s smouldering with sexual energy. I verbally escalate hard by telling stories of fucking, showing her dirty text message exchanges and soon her hand is on my cock. She tells me she’s married and shows me her ring.
Woah. Hold the phone. What?
Something doesn’t ring true (see what I did there? see what I did?) so I keep going and when she hits sexual state I try to drag her into the toilets. No go. After the second drink she wants to go home and I let her go. We chat on Skype that evening and I keep verbally escalating. Probably a mistake to overdo it but she’s playing along.
A few days later we have the Day 2 and she’s quiet, weirdly reserved but I figure if she came out she must be attracted. Kino is awkward and she says it’s “inappropriate” when I kiss close her in the bar. Day 3 is horrible because she’s got a migraine so we barely exchange words for an hour and I just practice subcommunication to keep myself entertained. More Skype and she sends me pictures of her tits in a new bra. It’s all a bit weird. She’s clearly a low-esteem girl and admits as much. She also comes clean and says the “I’m married” ring thing is just a ploy to stop guys opening her, which she claims happens loads.
Finally I have a head-to-head with one of my wings to figure out what I should do on Day 4. His advice is simple – push push push until I either fuck her or she storms out. I meet her at Baker Street and before she’s even arrived the tour bus chode has opened her and is knuckle-dragging at her heels so I have to dismiss him before I take her to the park. It’s as we walk around the park I get an eye-opening sight: every single guy is checking her out. And I mean every single one. Joggers, cyclists, husbands taking kids for a walk – everyone. It’s no exaggeration to say over 100 guys blatantly wanted to fuck her within half an hour’s walk. This girl must live in a strange reality.
I run lots of comfort, no kino, then an hour in go for another kiss. She literally fights me off, so I hold her down hard and she relents. She tells me it was inappropriate to do that in public. On Skype before Day 2 I’d told her in the pub idate I’d wanted to just grab her hair, drag her to her knees and stuff my cock in her mouth. Her response had been “that’s so hot!”. It was obvious this girl was gonna put up strong token resistence. I take her to a pub and she spends a while telling me I’m not gonna fuck her and she agrees to come back to my house (but she’s not gonna have sex with me). I parade her past the boys to approving nods. Especially those tits. Damn, what a pair! Upstairs we have a little vodka and I pounce.
As expected she’s resisting plenty. So I keep letting go and giving her an out, which she never takes. She never gives me “no” or “stop”. It’s always variations of “this is so inappropriate” or “you shouldn’t be doing this to me” before re-escalating me. Before long I’ve got my cock between her bare tits, which is a bigger win than fucking her in this case. Then I pull her remaining clothes off and fuck her. It’s a mediocre fuck but a joyous sight to look down at the quality of body I’m fucking.
Then she gets all buyers remorsey and wants to leave. She calms down when she realises I’m not trying to pump’n’dump (she’s low esteem, remember) so I keep her around another hour. We are still in contact but it’s proving difficult to get an encore. Strange girl.
It’s part of my relationship game that I teach my girlfriends about life, the universe and everything. I want to impart upon them in short order the sort of wisdom it took me a (much longer) lifetime to acquire. There’s so much bullshit and quackery in the world and I want to innoculate the girls against it before I send them back into the wild, outside my umbrella of leadership and protection.
It also gives opportunities for fun. In the case of my Barcelona trip, some tooling of Eurochodes.
I firmly believe that while the universal law of gender parity prevails in the long run, in the short run there can be wildly different mismatches in countries between the men and the women. I’m talking top-10%-of-sexual-market here. Mutants, mongs and munters are invisible in this analysis. For example:
A skewed sample perhaps but I swear I only saw one couple in the whole of this holiday where the man wasn’t at least a point more physically attractive than his girl. That couple was Russian. Throughout the streets I see lithe tall good-looking guys being led around like puppies by fairly-hot-but-porky-bellied women. This flouts the first rule of game: You should be banging girls better looking than you are. When the sexes turn up at the evolutionary mating pit, women bring their svelte DNA. They are a nicely-formed oven for you to bake your bun in. The guy brings pretty much everything else except looks. So if you are bringing your looks it’s like the old poker table adage: every table has a sucker. If you don’t know who it is, it’s you.
I’ve been clubbing two nights in a row here with my two Lithuanian girls. One is my official girlfriend, the other is her friend and single. First night I sent my girl onto the dancefloor to sway her hips and wave her arms. Sure enough within a few minutes a chode crystal formed around her and four friends spent half an hour slitting each other’s throats trying to get at her. A horrible display of anti-wing rules and an obvious telegraphing of low value. My girl was disgusted. After giving them half an hour I jumped in with some retard dancing to AMOG and sure enough the chode crystal shattered. Not a fair battle, but a fun game.
Next night was worse. We went to Razmatazz, a “cool” club, shortly after 1pm. As expected it was a sausage factory mixing local Spaniards and assorted other Eurochodes. Soon lots of painted up 6s arrived to attention whore. I didn’t spot an eight or better all night. Me and my girl tried reading the club and were amazed that nobody was having fun. The guy’s all stood awkwardly near the dancefloor value-scanning or else danced awkwardly off time to the music, or did chode-hopping displays. At no point did any guy seem to be dancing for the sheer joy of it. Most of the girls were just positioning themselves into sight lines to shake their arses in little rapo games. As the night progressed things improved a little and people started to chill a little but that’s when the pussy-beggars went into overdrive.
Again I sent my girl out to dance and she was opened about ten times in half an hour. I say “opened” but I think only one guy did it fairly well – it was like a mild version of 60’s rapid escalation. I’d call it Tepid Escalation. He came in full-on and started a challenging conversation but unfortunately telegraphed too much dependence and crumbled when my bird gave him the Russian Minute. Then he just got creepy until dismissed. Some fat omega begged her friend for a photo. Other guys did really half-arsed grinds or walk-by stares. At no point did any guy seriously commit to the open in a manner that put his balls on the line. These pretty boys are terrified of real rejection. It wasn’t really an environment conducive to indirect game. No one was having enough fun to be the warm end of the pool to draw women in unopened.
So me and my bird just did retard dancing all night and had a great time.
I never considered myself good at club game but I’ve realised just how poor most of the competition is. These guys had nothing behind their looks. I saw guys being tooled all night long. Tall, suave male 8s and 9s getting tooled by little fat 6s. Horrible.