This weekend I go five for five. While I’m keenly aware of the pitfalls of obsessing over my hit rate (it will lead to opening less sets for fear of reducing the ratio) I’m still gonna boast on this one.
Friday. I’m having lunch near work with a wing. We are in Starbucks just talking about random stuff when I spot a young 2-set walk by outside. I’ve never opened a 2-set in daygame. Suddenly I decide this is the set and I go running out.
Krauser: Hi. I just saw you walk past *addressing the obstacle* and I knew I should come out and talk to you. I’m sure you’d agree, your friend is gorgeous *eye-fucking target*
HB6 / HB7: *smile, a bit shock and awe*
Krauser: So, who are you?
HB7: We are from Latvia.
We talk for five minutes or so and I number close both. They are competing to give IOIs and so no sign of wanting to leave. If it hasn’t been for it being the end of my lunch break I’d have tried an instadate. They are only here till Sunday so I figure it’s f-close tonight or nothing. They head off to London Eye. A few hours later I text
Krauser: Hey girls its Krauser. We just met at St Pauls. I hope the London Eye queue wasn’t too long
HB7: Hey! Yes we remember you, London Eye was great 🙂 and how was your day?
Krauser: I’m good. You girls nightclubbing?
HB7: Yes 🙂 u wanna go clubing 2nite?
Krauser: We’ll be in Old Street. You’ll like the clubs there
I call them at about 10pm. They pick up and we chat. They are going to Liverpool Street to Fabric. Then the phone goes dead mid-sentence
Krauser: Bad reception here
HB7: Yes, it was cause we was in underground!
HB7: Where r u now?
Krauser: Old Street. Northern Line. Having fun
Nothing happens. The next day I text to get them out in the afternoon but nothing doing. So I sign off with:
Krauser: It looks like we won’t meet this time. Have a safe trip home
HB7: No, it’s not! just not so much time and we wanted to see so many places, so we losted in time! but we can meet in next time!
Krauser: Sure, I look forward to it. Have fun.
I have that Day 2 with the Greek then decide I ought to open at least once today (Saturday). I spot a very cute busty HB8 French wandering slowly through Covent Garden with bronze legs showing out her cut-off shorts and a cracking pair of tits. I open. She stops easily and smiles a lot. Shows no desire to walk off, yet there’s a crippling problem. She can barely speak English.
HB8: I don’t speak English
Krauser: I don’t speak English too. Where are you from?
Krauser: Where… are… you… from?
HB8: *smiles in recognition* I from Nice.
It’s all tortuous but I find out she’s here with a couple of friends for the weekend, she’s ethnically Tunisian, she likes adventure, and she can’t have an ice cream with me because she’s on her way back to the hostel to see her boyfriend. We take a social proof photo (see link) and I number close plus get her full name for Facebook. I have to let her go.
I assume that’s a dead end but text anyway the next day:
Krauser: Nice to meet you HB8. Here’s my number. Krauser
About an hour later as I’m in an LSS seminar my phone rings and it’s her. I can’t answer so I disconnect it then rush out and call back. She picks up immediately. We have a surreal conversation for about three minutes where I speak English, she speaks French and no information at all is successfully exchanged. Finally she hangs up. I figure what the hell, maybe she’s up for it and writing it down is easier so I text:
Krauser: That was SO weird! 🙂 *no reply*
Krauser: HB8. Come meet me. I’ll be in Covent Garden from 5pm. Text me when you arrive. Krauser.
I plan to daygame up there anyway so nothing to lose. But no response. Damn.
The same Sunday I close three out of three approaches on by way to and from the seminar. I figure the success is because I was late and purposefully going somewhere, stopping only to briefly sarge. It goes like this. Walking past London Bridge station I see HB8 French student. Normal opener, good IOIs, she’s late for work in a shop but doesn’t seem to care and talks for ten minutes. I close but when I call her French cell it disconnects immediately. I call my phone from hers and it rings with precisely the same number she gave me. Weird.
Next I’m rushing up to Covent Garden and as I past London Bridge again I see a hot HB9 Model pulling a wheely case. I open and she’s genuinely surprised to get daygamed. I ask for her Facebook but she says no it’ll upset her boyfriend. So I get her number instead. I text a follow up and she asks me not to call cos of the boyfriend. Dead end, but still a #close.
Lastly I’m rushing along South Bank and stop HB7 French Dancer. We talk ten minutes and I feel like I’m too needy but she still gives me her Facebook and accepts me as a friend within a few hours of my invite.
November 14, 2012 at 8:35 am
If it takes you this long to f close,a man who boxes and is naturally good at this,imagine the rest of us.It’s just to long a process Anne too nerve racking. [If you want an excuse to give up, you’ll find one. K.]