20th August 2009 finds me meeting a couple of guys over at Nandos on the South Bank. DiCipher is there and two others I’ve never met. We amble along towards Embankment.
I get off to a good start by stopping a fast-charging HB7 Brit with iPod on. I indicate her to pull out the headphones and we chat a few minutes. I end up with the BF defense and don’t close. Next is another difficult stop – a fast-charging HB7 Tall Blonde. She doesn’t stop and I realise my body language was too defensive. Next an HB7 Brunette saunters past texting on her iPhone. She reacts well but shows me her wedding ring, which had been hidden due to her hand positioning.
I’m a bit deflated. I’ve been asking DiChiper what I should do to turn instant dates into day 2s. Sagely he notes that I have been raising the girls’ buying temperatures ok but not giving them any of my identity. They are waking up the next day without any reason to distinguish me from the other 100 men who want to fuck them. Ok, next instant date I shall offer identity…..
As we get to Embankment footbridge I think, ok one more set. A cute HB8 Russian ambles past. I like her reddish dyed hair and something about her manner. She seems smiley and happy in the world. She opens easy and I try to pull her in a bit:
Krauser: What’s that you’re listening to *indicating iPod*
HB8: blah blah…. some dance shite
Krauser: Gimmee a listen *grab headphone, pull her in so I can fit it to my ear*
Krauser: Oh, that’s crap *gives back headphone* Come on, let’s get some ice cream
I lead her along the riverside and we stop to eat ice cream from a van. She’s mildy shit testing me now, mainly by appearing unresponsive. After about fifteen minutes I walk her to a pub and we get a drink. Instant date. Ok, remember identity….
I give her my Tokyo DHV story about the fashion party, an identity response to her asking about my job, and adapt the rollercoaster NLP routine to be about boxing so I can raise her buying temp while also talking passionately about my hobby. It all works a treat. Two hours after the meet it’s getting dark and we separate. Minor shit test on the number close
HB8: Do you remember my name?
Krauser: No, it was the third thing you told me. I was still looking at your smile
HB8: It’s xxxxxx
Krauser: You remember mine?
HB8: No *laughs*
Krauser: It’s Krauser. OK, how do I spell xxxxxx *pulls out phone*
midway through her surname spelling she says….
HB8: I’m not giving you my number. You can give me yours.
Krauser: Oh! You’re one of those girls aren’t you. One of those who collects men’s numbers so they feel good about themselves.
Krauser: Here, gimmee your phone *types in own number, rings it, and gets her number that way*
A hug but no k-close. This is a Thursday. On Saturday I call and we set up a day 2 for Sunday lunch time. I strongly lead the whole thing. We meet at Trafalgar square and I introduce sex talk in the National Gallery by commenting on the more suggestive pictures. She’s laughing and skipping and having a great time.
I walk her down to Embankment park to sit on the grass with a coffee. She looks at me and says:
HB8: Those stories you were telling me on Thursday. Do you tell them alot? They seemed so smooth.
Krauser: Of course I do. They’re great stories. I must’ve told that one about the kickboxing match to everybody in my work and family.
HB8: Krauser, I feel like I’ve known you for years
Krauser: Sometimes it happens. You meet someone and there’s an instant connection.
K-closing is a major sticking point for me and I still fail to do it on this date. After two hours or so we seperate and I head off to meet my wings for more day game. I’m really getting this rapport thing going.