The Panda Stack

December 30, 2009

 Self amusement is a core principle of Game. You are talking to the girl because it amuses you to do so. I thought I’d run with that a little bit over the past few days while field testing a potential chick crack recipe – Panda bears. If you wanna know why pandas are so adorable, search “baby pandas playing” in Youtube and you’ll soon learn. I’ve now started combining all my routines into one long Panda Stack, in which every single DHV / attraction trigger is connected together by the adorable black and white creatures. It goes something like this, commentary in bold italics:


*open, swap a few sentences*

Krauser: Did you have a good Christmas?

HB: Yes. I did blah blah…… how about you?

Krauser: Brilliant. I went up Newcastle to see all my family. *steps back* You did figure out from my accent that I’m from up North, right? I’m the only one of my family who has travelled around, living in London, Tokyo and stuff [hook for worldly-wise DHV stories]. For Christmas we all get together at my aunties house and she cooks up a big traditional lunch. You can just imagine how it was this year with the snow! *stands shoulder to shoulder, gestures painting a scene in front of us*.  She lives in an old mining village on top of a hill surrounded by forest. You know how the snow lies on fir trees, like it steps where you can see the green underneath? So we’re sitting in the lounge by the fire with a belly full of roast and wine – she’s go a proper open fire with logs. I had to chop them.

HB: You had to chop the logs?

Krauser: Yeah. Not actually chop the trees, that would be stupid. But the smallest size she can get the firewood locally is too big for her fire, so I have to split them in the yard. [Protector of loved ones]. So we look out the windows over the vale and the forest and it’s like a blanket of pure white snow. The air is really crisp and fresh. You know the feeling of freshness when a cool chill blows against your cheeks? [painting an emotionally evocative picture]. Then my little nephew is playing with his new panda.

HB: A panda?

Krauser: Not a real one, obviously *pulls her in for a side-on-side hug* If we’re gonna be friends you have to think before you speak. *pushes her off*[kino]. He’s only this tall *gesture* and he’s full of love for fluffy animals and just wants to hug them, like this *hug, push off*. So I got him a panda [loves children and animals]

HB: Awwww, sweet.

Krauser: It’s really hard to get a good panda though. I started in Hamleys but quickly realised I wanted to get him something more individual. There’s alot of variance between pandas. I’ll bet you think they all look the same, but no. Actually I’ve got a confession to make. Keep this a secret but I know alot about them. My ex was Japanese and they are crazy for them over there [pre-selection]. She used to have panda-everything: panda toys, panda pyjamas, panda calendars. I had to watch pandas on youtube. Actually, you should youtube search “baby pandas playing”. It’s so cute, because they sort of wrestle each other but keep squeaking and falling over. Because essentially pandas are just crap bears.

HB: Huh?

Krauser: Well, yeah, sort of like how dolphins are just gay sharks. Pandas sit on their arse all day eating bamboo, but they are evolved to eat meat so they don’t get the right nutrients and it messes with their bearness. Out in the forest they get bullied by the proper bears, that’s why they have two black eyes.

HB: *ironic laughs at the bad joke, hug and push*

Krauser: Pandas don’t even have sex. No, really. The WWF has spent millions over the years trying to get pandas to fuck [oblique sex talk]. They even tried panda porn cos when girl panda meets boy panda nothing happens. They just eat bamboo when they should be having hot panda sex with girl panda bent over the treestump and boy panda giving it to her. So they install one of these huge tvs into the panda pen and show panda porn, hoping that’ll inspire a little loving.

HB: Did it work?

Krauser: No. But the Chinese scientists figured something out because now they’ve got a load of baby pandas – what’s the collective noun for pandas? pride? pack? Anyway, there’s tonnes of them. They had one on loan at the Panda Museum in Tokyo when I was there.

I'm stylin' and profilin'... yeah baby

I just keep spinning this with new ridiculous panda material until I figure it’s time to number close. Only field-tested it four times so far, but went 4-for-4 in number closes.

Models, Actresses, Shop Girls… [Part Two]

December 27, 2009

Saturday night and I’m at Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. There’s a long strip of franknfurter stalls, bierkellers, fudge shops and even an ice rink. Very German. You’d think the squareheads had won the war or something. Best of all, in amongst the festivities are dozens of sets. Tony T has a couple of students with him so before long I end up watching over one of them. He’s asking about two sets so I demo with 2-set HB6 Italian. Doesn’t hook. I go again with 2-set HB6 Dutch. Nice hook, I bring in Mark and we bounce them. Unfortunately he can’t deflect the cockblock and she pulls her friend away. No loss.

In a makeshift beer tent I open mixed 2-set HB6 Australian Blonde. She hooks good and the guy fades into the wallpaper. Knows her from back home, apparently. She’s well into the conversation but I’m not much fussed and eject after ten minutes or so demoing for the student. They are picking our brains on all kinds of things because last night with Tony was literally their first night gaming. Good enthusiasm and they try to implement everything we tell them. I’m hungry and go to the pizza stand for a £3 slice of margharita. I notice HB8 Actress come over and look at the pizza next to me. She seems to be looking at me a bit too, curious. I suppose my Russian fur hat, the fur-lined aviator jacket, and wildman beard make me stand out. I open casually, still pointed towards the serving staff.

HB8 Actress

Krauser: What pizza do you recommend?

HB8: Hmmmn. Let’s see *runs her eyes across the display window*. The ham and pineapple looks nice.

Krauser: True. I’m vegetarian though, so that’s no good for me.

HB8: How about this one *points at some vegetable monstrosity*

Krauser: I don’t like mushroom. It’s an evil food. I think I’ll try this one *points at margharita*

It’s very low key and casual. I’ve barely looked at her, much less turned towards her. I forget exactly how I transitioned but it was something really basic like:

Krauser: Anyhoo. *puts out hand* You are?

HB8: I’m HB8.

Krauser: Ooooh. HB8 is awfully posh. Private school I’d say.

HB8: *giggle* No. Well sort of.

Krauser: You must have middle class parents. You manner is very proper.

HB8: *giggle* blah blah.

I see my student loitering behind her, eavesdropping. I do relatively AFC resume-exchange questions but frame it as statements not questions, and add some spice to it. I qualify her on every bit of information she gives, like:

HB8: I’m an actress.

Krauser: Uh-huh. Have you been in anything I might have seen?

HB8: I’m in The Wolfman. [lists a couple more movies I’ve forgotten].

Krauser: Nah, haven’t seen that.

HB8: Oh no, it’s not out yet. It’s released early next year.

Krauser: What brings you out tonight?

HB8: I’m working on the [food] stall. *sigh*. I’ve been doing twelve hour shifts all week. It’s tiring.

Krauser: [snips thread] That explains the mess all over your jacket. I didn’t want to say anything because I thought you just had bad fashion sense. It’s all icky.

HB8: *self conscious, smiling*

The main point of interest in this sarge is how low-key and indifferent I am. My student commented later that it didn’t even look like I was hitting on her. Burto and Tony T both come in to DHV me:

Burto: Krauser. The boys are asking what we’re doing next.

Krauser: Right. Can you round them all up over by that stall. I’ll just be a minute then I’ll take you over to the bar.

My vocal tone was relaxed, slow and deep. I only occasionally turned my body to give her full attention, and I was constantly qualifying her in subtle ways, even when number closing:

Krauser: I’ve gotta go now. Look, you seem fun. You are fun aren’t you?

HB8: I’m fun

Krauser: I thought so. I’m headed back to Newcastle to see my family [lead into short “loves children and animals” DHV about nephews]. But you’re fun so I’d like to see you again. Can I take your number?

HB8: *excuse, but offers Facebook*

I leave it two days then add her. She accepts right away. From browsing her photos it seems like she has a boyfriend but it’s not obvious. No pictures of them being a couple, no “HB8 is in a relationship with*, but the same guy keeps popping up. Maybe an orbiter. Whatever, I decide the way forward is to build a non-dating vibe through Facebook, DHV, and wait for the moment to escalate. I send a message at midnight, and she replies six hours later:

Krauser: Hey! I took my little nephews to the cinema today. We saw a big lobby display for The Wolfman. Are you really in that, or were you just pretending to be cool to impress me? They were totally thrilled when I said I knew the Wolf Woman, and I’d feel bad if you tricked me into lying to two innocent little boys. 😉 I told them you were really hairy in real life too….

HB8: haha yes i really was in the [scene] where the wolfman comes in and [describes scene], but i doubt you’ll see me there was a huge crown of us, it looks like an amazing film though, have a merry christmas. HB9.

Krauser [three days later]: Aye, I’ll be watching it. Trailer looked good. I’ve been stuffed full with four consecutive days of homecooking washed down with flaggons of red wine. It’s been a great Christmas. I started a snowball fight yesterday with the local kids and that quickly degenerated into a melee and then we all built a huge snowman. Did you get up to much?

That was yesterday. If anything comes of it, expect further posts. Overall, it was nice to close a model and an actress on the same day.

Models, Actresses, Shop girls…. [Part One]

December 24, 2009

Saturday 19th December 2009 and London is full of Christmas cheer. I get a call from Mark, the DC lawyer who I met while day gaming in summer. He’s in London this weekend and wants to wing. Great. We meet at Covent Garden at 2pm and get started. The usual first-approach AA is with me big time and I’m cockblocking myself. Then I see HB7 Brit and give chase. Normal direct opener and she gives me the boyfriend defense. I plough and she’s IOIing and being a very pleasant posh girl. After five minutes I fail the number close but don’t care. I feel like I’ve just stepped into a pair of very comfortable shoes.
I apocalypse a HB6 Brunette in the open plaza. She doesn’t stop but she can’t help smiling, laughing and dawdling. Mark is stoked at seeing how the apocalypse works. I do it again on HB6 Teen, but then her mum, dad, sister, and baby in the buggy catch up. It strikes me as hilarious – propositioning an 18 yr old girl in front of her whole family by accident.
Krauser: *to group* Oh, are you all together?
Dad: *not really sure what’s going on* Yes.
Krauser: *smiles* Okay then, I don’t want to intrude.
*smiles to target, grabs her shoulders, turns her away and gives playful shove in the back*
Krauser: Enjoy your day.

I guess the learning points from that are:
– Apocalypsing a young woman in front of her family is close to the toughest set imaginable. And I got away without any negative responses at all, not even from the dad.
– A smiling playful manner forgives all sins.
Mark wants to sit down for coffee so we head to Cafe Nero and sit looking out the window, chatting. Mid-sentence he runs out and opens but can’t hook. I see HB9 Polish Model across the road, reading what turns out to be a google map printout. I run over and open with a slight tweak:
Krauser: Hi. I was just across the road there when I saw you…. you walk like you should be in a movie. What’s that about?
HB9: *smiles, laughs* umm, I don’t know. umm
Krauser: Yeah, you seemed so relaxed and had a graceful ease of movement. Anyway, you are? *extends hand*
HB9: I’m HB9. You?
Krauser: *keeps hold of hand* Krauser. You’re not from round here.
HB9: No, I’m not.
Krauser: *looks her up and down, still holding hand* Eastern Europe. *she nods*. Poland.
HB9: *smiles* Yeah, how could you tell?
Krauser: Statistical probability.
We vibe for a while and I tell her she’s nowhere near where she’s trying to get to. Standing side by side now, conspiratorilly. I decide that’s the easiest bounce because she has a meeting at this place in fifteen minutes.
HB9: So why did you come and talk to me?
Krauser: You seemed nice. Like you are comfortable here. You are nice aren’t you?
HB9: I’m nice. But really, why did you talk to me?
Krauser: I just told you. Doesn’t this happen much?
HB9: Well, guys do sometimes talk to me, but this seems different.
Krauser: Yeah. Girls sometimes come talk to me in bars and clubs but not so much in the street.
HB9: You’ll never guess what I do, or where I’m going.
Krauser: Sure I can. You are client facing *she nods*, in retail *she nods*
HB9: Wow. I work in  [sport] shop.
Krauser: Uh-huh.
HB9: But I’m going somewhere totally different for this meeting.
Krauser: Sure, I’ve got no idea.
HB9: I’ve got an audition with a modelling agency.
Krauser: What, like a hand model, or a foot model? [I like dropping in cheesy Mystery lines every now and then]
HB9: *mock outrage, smiles* No, a tooth model.
When we arrive at the agency I’m certain there’s no instadate possible and I’ll need to eject before she dismisses me. Time to get the number, seed a date, and she what happens. I’ve already been doing some DHVing about buying a panda for my nephew, and painted an emotionally evocative picture of my Christmas in the countryside.
HB9: Do you think I’ll get the job?
Krauser: Dunno. My last girlfriend was a model but she was more like an action pose model. She was petite *hand motion* and a dancer. It’s not really comparing like with like, so I’m not the expert on this. Let me see.
*I lean back and check her out, she smiles and does a little pose*
Krauser: Hmmmmm
*I twirl my finger to indicate her to spin around. She does*
Krauser: I wouldn’t hire you. *she laughes*. But keep smiling that nice smile and you might get lucky.
I number close. She shit tests again:
HB9: What makes you think I don’t have a boyfriend?
Krauser: I don’t care. You could’ve been with him five years or one week. That’s your business.
HB9: I could be married.
Krauser: No. You’re too happy.
HB9: *laughs*
Krauser: Anyway, I have to go. I’m taking my friends to the ice skating at Winter Wonderland now. Give me a text when you’re out of the audition.
HB9: I love ice skating.
Krauser: Yeah, you communists are good at that stuff.
HB9: *laughs*

About an hour later I text:
Krauser: [Jambone]. I just met a girl. She’s really cute but works in a [sports] shop. I’m not sure if I should date her. She might be one of those [sports] perverts you told me about.
HB9: Yeah mate, i’m one of’em 🙂 But don’t worry, i can’t date you anyway. I’ve got a boyfriend, but your cute too 😉 Take care.
Normally I’d take that as a brush off but having heard Burto recount his long long road to f-closing a Playboy model and all the IODs she tested him with first, I’m inclined to think there’s something in this because:
– She replied at all. She actually replied within half an hour too.
– She played along with the frame
– The smileys and the “your cute” IOI
I discuss this with Burto who thinks it’s a simple shit test. Tony T suggests I wait a few days then build rapport through texts without trying to invite her out. That’s what I’ll do. See what happens. Mark and I get to Winter Wonderland as darkness is closing in. The SS guys have a couple of students with them so I end up helping out, demoing approaches.

I bump into a lukewarm lead

December 22, 2009

There’s always been something getting in the way of my game this past month. Illness, work parties, boot camps or something. The few times I’ve been approaching it’s been to demo for students so even when I’ve had a strong hook and an instadate waiting to happen I’ve had to just take the number and run – leading to inevitable flakes. Fortunately my Romanian project has been keeping me entertained so I’m not entirely frustrated.

Friday 18th December and I’m on a lunch break from work. I walk into Starbucks and who should I see hunched over on a sofa calling her friend but HB8 Indian. She of the flaked house party. She is engrossed in the call and doesn’t notice the world around her. I queue, get my coffee and walk over to the milk jugs which she’s sitting next to. I snap my fingers under her nose and when she looks up I wink. It takes her a moment to recognise me cos I’m wearing a russian fur hat, fur-lined fighter pilot jacket and have three weeks of beard growth. Wildman schtick. She smiles.

I put milk in the coffee, slowly to see if she hangs up, and as I go to walk past her to a different seat I hear “I have to go. A friend just walked in”.  I spend a while talking over my shoulder deliberately not rewarding her with my full attention until she’s properly engaged and then I sit down. In some respects it’s like a normal indirect opener cos I even give a false time constraint. My goal is to warm up the set and (for amusement) to infuse as many DHVs as I can without break.:

Flaky, but lovely

Krauser: The dude behind the counter just asked to buy my hat. Not as in “where can I buy your hat?” but actually can I buy your hat. Must be cooler than I thought.

HB8: Hehe. blah blah

Krauser: I thought you’d be on holiday today. This is my last day. Going home for Christmas. I can’t wait to see my nephews again. One of them is this tall *hand motion* and he’s really into furry animals now. He’s got so much love to give so he’s hugging everything. I’m gonna get him a panda.

HB8: I love pandas. blah blah.

Krauser: At Christmas my whole family gets together at my Aunt’s house. She’s got a place on top of a hill surrounded by forest. It’s an old mining village. I’m so hoping it snows because you can imagine the scene sitting around the fire – she’s got a proper open fire with logs, I’m the one who goes out into the yard to chop the wood – a belly full of hot roasted food, and then you look out the window down the vale to see the snow blanketing the grass and trees… etc [paints emotionally evocative picture]

HB8: *trance state*

Krauser: Then I’ll take my nephews out to walk the dogs, playing fetch as we walk deep into the forest. After the boys finish fetching the stick I’ll start playing it with the dogs.

HB8: Blah blah, *eyes sparkle, beaming smile*

Krauser: You got any plans this weekend?

HB8: Not really. Maybe going out with [the girls].

Krauser: I’m taking my friends to Winter Wonderland tomorrow in Hyde Park. We’re gonna do ice salsa. Not really sure how but you know Tony, from that [entourage] night? He’s great at salsa so he’s gonna teach us. Then on Sunday we’re going hiking. Burto’s going to hire a couple of cars and drive us all out. I haven’t decided where, probably Kent…etc…etc

After about fifteen minutes she says she has to go back to work. Believable from the already-eaten panini and already-drunk coffee. As she stands up:

HB8: I really do have to get back, I’ve been here an hour. Can you send me the details of the Winter Wonderland. It sounds like great fun. We should definitely meet up.

Krauser: I’ll put something on my facebook.

Lukewarm —–> Warm

Work Christmas Party

December 18, 2009


Thursday 18 December, 2009. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an entire table of Righteous fuckwits gang up on me, take them on, and win. I’d forgot how much I used to enjoy it. One of my old latent alpha traits was an absolute certainty that I am right and my willingness to defend my position till (metaphorical) death. Combine that with a ruthless razor-sharp ability to hunt and kill my opponents and few people would debate me twice. Stupidly, I came to see this as a negative character trait and worked to become more agreeable. I suppose for generally getting on with people that’s sensible. These days, I tend to hold the opinion that I shouldn’t have to suffer fools and I shouldn’t have to bite my tongue when a cackle of women is talking shit.

So, it’s 10pm and my work team has finished the Xmas dinner and decamped to a pub in Covent Garden. I’ve been half-heartedly gaming all the women to generally good effect, and as I drink more I’ve been progressively increasing the arseholery. The women start dropping in occasional man-hate comments. They are western, professional “strong” women after all.


The Righteous are watching you

Note none of this is too serious. It’s a bit a drunken fun that has a serious edge, but mostly that faux-sincerity of drunks talking. And while I usually avoid getting into these kinds of discussions with fuckwits (I mean, what is there to win?) I was in the mood for it tonight. Some exchanges (paraphrasing) within longer debates:

Krauser: It was monogamy that created the base for Western civilisation. It’s the breakdown of monogamy that will destroy our civilisation.

A boss (not mine): What’s so good about Western civilisation? [he’s white, upper middle class, private school educated English – what a fucking traitor]

Krauser: Its the reason we are better than all the other cultures. We invented writing, science, democracy, engineering, vaccination, blood typing, sterilization…..

Boss: What’s so good about science? That led to eugenics

Me: Eugenics is just a policy implementation based loosely on science. A political decision. Anyway, I support eugenics.

* shocked faces *

Fat woman [after asking me about my Romanian girlfriend]: Why chase after Romanians? Aren’t you confident enough to get an English woman?

Krauser: I don’t want an English woman

Other woman: Romanians are all gypsies. Is that it? Has she stolen your wallet *some laughs*

Krauser: She’s from a religious culture that isn’t very Westernised. So she probably hasn’t been on the cock carousel. She’s feminine and respectful.

Fat woman: What’s wrong with English women?

Krauser: I find them boorish, uncultured and vulgar. Not for me.

Boorish, uncultivated and vulgar

Fat woman: You’ll never get married with that attitude

Krauser: Great. I don’t want to get married. I’m not gonna put a ring on a finger that’s been wrapped around two dozen cocks. Call me traditional, but I can’t commit to another man’s leftovers.

Fat woman: That’s such a double standard!

Krauser: No its not. A woman knows a child is hers, a man doesn’t. It’s hardwired into a man’s mind to value chastity as a proxy for paternity certainty.  *the Boss quitely nods agreement*

Other woman: That’s sexist

Krauser: I notice woman will bitch and moan about how promiscuous men are valued and promiscuous women are shamed. Those same women are quiet on the flip side – how female virgins are valued and male virgins are ridiculed.

Fat woman: No that’s different because………. you sound like a bigot

Krauser: If that’s your label for my views, I’m happy to be a bigot.

Fat Woman: I’m so close to tipping this pint onto your head.

Krauser: If you do that I’ll tip this pint over yours.

This isn’t a pick-up report, so why have it in my blog you ask? Every man needs to find is own path to alpha. Being alpha is not just something you switch on as you approach a set. It’s how you live and who you are in your everyday interactions. A snivelling beta mangina fears attack more than anything else, so his default reaction to conflict is supplication. If you make supplication a regular feature of your life, you reinforce the inner beta. Fuck that. I’m alpha and that means if someone tries to browbeat me into something I’m gonna dig my heels in then come out fighting. If it’s worth the trouble, that is.

I’ve noticed these situations take on a pattern, which I propose below. Let’s call it the Krauser Ladder of Righteous Fuckwittery:

Phase 1: They talk progressivist drivel and assume you agree. You quietly avoid giving either assent or dissent because you know doing so commits you to either all seven stages, or a humiliating climb-down en-route.

Phase 2: Suspecting you’re not “with the program”, they try to solicit your opinion. You politely avoid doing so.

Phase 3: The chief commisar directly and aggressively questions you. You state some of your opinions, making it clear that you don’t intend to foist them upon the world

*everyone gangs up on you*

Phase 4: They all show shock, contempt, and immediately assume the moral high ground is theirs rather than a position to be earned. Shaming language ensues. You are compared to Hitler. You don’t back down.

Phase 5: They try to nitpick and bully you. The group cheers on the chief commissar, who becomes progressively emboldened. The group is looking to chip in with drive-by insults. You defend your position and challenge theirs.

Phase 6: They backpedal frantically, try to find one area of agreement so they can declare the debate resolved. You refuse to give it to them.

Phase 7: Either they accept you are right, or they go off in the huff.

The social dynamics are interesting. I literally had all five people at the table (this was late on in the pub after most people had gone home) ganging up on me trying to verbally beat me down – and they thought I  was the one being unreasonable. It’s funny to see Righteous fervour stirred up because these normal people suddenly become jackals.

Am I becoming a heartless bastard?

December 17, 2009

Saturday November 28, 2009 and I have a great Day 2 (well more like Day 8 or 9 – but let’s stick with convention) with my current primary target HB8 Romania. She’s a lovely girl and I’m having lots of fun with her but not getting the f-close. I’ll theorise and post on that story once I’ve gotten a firm conclusion.

Think she's worth the runaround to the f-close?

We go to Leeds Castle, a refurbished old castle on the outskirts of London set in acres of woodland and surrounded by a moat. Lovely place.

Awww..... I'm a romantic at heart

After she’s dropped me off at my house it’s about 9:30pm. I get a text out the blue from HB6 Japan, a 24yr old wannabe party girl who has been chasing my (disinterested) wing Subzero. Since then she’s been loosely added to the entourage:

HB6: Hi krauser how was home party? I want to go to [club] with may friends tonight. Is it available to add gest list? Could you ask [promoter]? Sorry.

Krauser: HB6. [Promoter] only does [club] on Thursdays. He’s doing [other club, address] tonight. Guest list will be closed now but text me how many girls / guys and I’ll call him. You might get lucky.

HB6: Thanks we are going 4 girls and another 1 girl coming 1.30am x

HB6: Sorry total 6people 5 and 1 is coming 1.30

I don’t want to go out tonight. The promoter in question has been unreliable and has shown a tendency to try to steal our girls. We haven’t known him long and haven’t had a proper sit-down with him to explain the pitch. For now, the last thing I want to do is hand a ready-made entourage over to him for free while also setting myself up as the provider guy to HB6. Hmmmmm.

I call around the boys to see if anyone is out and wants to take the entourage. Moran and Suave accept. I call HB6 and bullshit her that the promoter is now in the club and his mobile isn’t connecting, but that some friends (she’s met both before) are going out so they’ll take her somewhere. She accepts. I coordinate them and sit back to enjoy a night in front of my PS3.

Moran and Suave tag-team me into going out. It’s pissing down with rain. Soaking through the hole in my shoe, seeping down the back of my neck. Obviously I don’t carry an umbrella because I’d rather be wet than homo. Suave has brought along three girls and a guy. He gets us in to Verve for free. Moran wastes no time hooking HB5 Westerner and is dancing tight with her. I go down the road to Tiger Tiger to meet HB6 by the outdoor smoking area (don’t want to pay to get in, too loud for a phone call). We agree she’s gonna bring her friends out, but they are mostly friends-of-friends so she doesn’t have a lot of pull. Five minutes pass, she comes back out and say they are in the cloakroom queue but it’s long.

The girl with the flowers

Rather than DLV standing in the rain, I tell her where we are going and go. Fifteen minutes later HB6 arrives alone. Her friends just went home. So much for the entourage. Suave gets her in free (but DHVs me by making it look like I did it). I’ve never sarged this girl but did with her HB7 Japan friend. Subzero has already let her go. So I handhold her through the club to join on the dancefloor. She grinds me a lot, and then plays silly-buggers.

HB6: I’m going to get a drink

Krauser: Ok

HB6: *waits expectantly*

Krauser: *dancing*

HB6: *wanders off*

I’m expecting her back soon but rather than DLV waiting, I go upstairs to talk to Suave. Thirty minutes pass. I’ve been back to the dancefloor with Moran, who has since k-closed and still dancing with his girl. No HB6. I wonder if she’s already left. I’m in no mood to sarge tonight.

Krauser: You still here? I’m upstairs

HB6: Yes im squares 🙂

Krauser: ???

HB6: Hehe im upstairs 🙂 mistake

I see her standing with a chode, drinking the drink he bought her. I walk over and completely ignore his existence, not even a nod or acknowledgement.

Krauser: Ok, cool. I just wondered if you’d already gone home

HB6: *giving full attention to me, as if the chode has just vaporised* Hehe.

Krauser: I’m going back down to dance

HB6: I’m staying here

Krauser: Have fun

About an hour later she’s dancing sort of with the chode on the edge of our group. Suave amogs him by a body block and he’s excluded. HB6 comes over an grinds me plenty. I go with it but don’t chase. After five minutes she grabs the chode and marches him to the bar for another drink then goes upstairs. I keep dancing.

Upstairs I talk to Suave and a Brazilian couple he’s brought out. In my peripheral vision I see HB6 + Chode ten yards away. She’s sitting on a high stool and he’s standing over her, leaning in. No kino, though he’s trying to escalate. Her body language is “I’ll tolerate this for the drink.” He sees me and is suddenly threatened. I stands her up (with resistance) and places her hands on his shoulders. She gradually lowers her hands and sits back down, turning her body away from him. He leans in and puts his arm awkwardly around her. I’m chuckling. I’m sure she knows I can see, though to all intents and purposes I’m pointed towards the Brazilians and chatting to them, laughing and having fun. It’s 1am and I want to go home. I get my coat then walk over to them. Again I ignore the chode.

Krauser: Ok, I’m off home.

HB6: Thank you very much for bringing me here.

Krauser: *wink* Have a great party [something she has planned tomorrow].

HB6: I will, thank you!!! Give me a hug


Krauser: No. Boobie-to-boobie hug

*Big hug. Walk off.*

So what’s this all about? Here is my analysis:

  • HB6 likes me, is into me, but the attraction isn’t very strong. So she wants to be in my social circle to get advantages of it rather than simply to get closer to me.
  • As a newcomer foreign student, she values having a local guide to the nightlife and getting into places free.
  • I’m not so fussed with her. If it falls into my lap, I’ll take it but I’m not chasing. Passive game all the way. I would like her in the entourage.
  • Being a [broke] party girl she will mercilessly hunt down chodes for free drinks then use them to play jealously games with me.
  • Being 24, she’s old enough to know that actions have consequences and therefore continues going through me to get into clubs, rather than trying to cut me out and going direct to the promoter (like a dumb 18yr old brit girl recently did – leading to total exclusion from the entourage).
  • Entourage game is very unpredictable right now. Tonight went from five girls to one in the bat of an eye.

All of this is a very longwinded intro to the incident that triggered the title of this post. My mood is slightly soured at the games girls play. Not really judgement – just disatisfaction that the world is this way. As I’m standing at the bus stop by Leicester Square, in the rain, surrounded by drunken chodes I notice a hot 19yr HB9 Brit girl next to me in some kind of distress. At first I think she’s shivering from the cold (she’s in clubbing attire of high heels, short skirt, flimsy blouse) but actually she’s been crying and is holding back more tears. She doesn’t appear drunk.

I don’t give a flying fuck. No white knight instincts at all. I ignore her.

But I’m the only normal-looking non-drunk dude around. Ten minutes later, she opens me in a timid voice:

HB9: Excuse me. Could you help me?

Krauser: *turns head to look at her*

HB9: Someone just stole my phone and I need to make a call or I can’t get home.

Pause. What would AFC Krauser have done? He’d have comforted her verbally, offered his phone, and harboured some lingering idea that by being nice there’s an outside chance he can jump her bones. I’m not AFC now, but still not the total cunt I’d like to be, so what actually happens is:

Krauser: *gets out phone but keeps hold of it* Do you know the number?

HB9: *relaxes a bit, steps a little closer* Yes, its [number]

I’m still not turned towards her and my manner is reserved. Not dismissive but not particularly engaged – as if I’m doing it simply as an expectation from social politeness. The number rings but no pickup or answer phone. She’s perplexed.

HB9: That’s my housemate. I don’t have my keys so I can’t get in.

Krauser: Is there another number you can call?

HB9: No, just that one

Krauser: What about your parents?

HB9: No! I can’t call them, they’d be mad at me!

That tiny seed of sympathy in me dies. This worthless skank would rather risk herself alone at 2am in a rowdy part of town, finding a white knight to get her out of trouble, than just face the music with her parents. Why the fuck should I do a single thing for this bitch when she is actively avoiding seeking help from the two people who would immediately offer it.

The fucking cheek of it.

If a normal AFC guy tries talking to her in a club he’ll get a dismissive brush off, perhaps even a disdainful insult, while she chases the alphas. But put her in the slightest tiniest trouble and she’s a laser-guided to find the same guy to bail her out.

English girl in her natural habitat

HB9: *wittering on* I’m so shocked. I was just talking on the phone in Leicester Square and some guy runs past and grabs my phone. Who would do that to a girl?

Krauser: Un.

I don’t tell her who (i) the type of bad boy that gets her wet or (ii) an extremely frustrated sexless beta resentful of being ignored by your type. I call the number one more time and then my bus has come. Note she hasn’t shown any sexual interest in me, I’m just a pack horse to be worked. Despite the polite language, she’s clearly expecting me to jump through hoops for her till the problem is solved. I step onto the bus, look over my shoulder and:

Krauser: Be careful who you talk to. It’s a scrum this time of night.

As I head home I think about my instinctual reactions. It’s surprised me. It’s almost pivotal. I realised I absolutely did not give a flying fuck about this silly bitches problems. I felt zero pull towards white knighting. Even though she was physically stunning and done up to the nines, I felt no sexual attraction for her. She just struck me as an uncultured, pitiful creature. This is the dark side of seeing the matrix.

Postscript: On the way home, I wonder if perhaps I’m too harsh. So I send this text to the number she gave me:

Krauser: Hi. HB9 asked me to call you. Tall, slim brunette. She’s had her phone stolen and is locked out. She’s at the bus stop on Charing Cross road (by Leicester Square) right now – 2:15am. Expect a call from a random number.

Did I get a text back the next day – something like “Thanks. She got home ok.”- what do you think? Exactly. Fucking whore.

Mercy fucking

December 14, 2009

I’m wondering if I should escalate on the HB5 Eastern Europe who works at a nearby food shop. I go in there once a week or so for lunch and she always takes my order. I didn’t give her much thought but after I told her my slightly quirky preferences (I hate onions, mushrooms and peppers) remembered and we joked about it a few times.

I started to get that strange stirring of the loins. Not a proper “Whoa! I want to fuck her” stirring. This was more like if you’re thinking of a hot girl and suddenly turn the corner and see a car crash – you’ve got a boner but it feels inappropriate to the situation. She’s a nice size, very feminine, cute smile, and even cuter braces.

Braces! They should have me running a mile but instead I wonder whether I’d feel the cold steel on my teeth as we kiss. She’s got a few extra pounds, especially on the arse, but I wonder what type of metal-mouthed smile she’d come up with if I gave it a firm smack. I think for a while and I realise why I want to fuck this girl.

She is so bashfully demure and feminine.

It doesn’t matter that she’s got a mouth full of steel, or a chubby arse, or slightly beady eyes. She smiles, she defers, she remembers stuff, she shakes it as she walks. In a City full of ball-busting lawyer cunts, she’s a breath of fresh air. I reckon she’d let me do her up the arse on the first asking. So today I make my first stab at gaming her proper

I catch her eye as I come in. She smiles, I do a “whassup” nod and wink. At the order counter, a dude takes the order while she stands by smiling.

Dude: Hi sir. May I take your order?

Krauser: Your colleague here can tell you. She’s got a good memory.

HB5*enjoying the opportunity* He would like a [order] but with no mushrooms *smiles at me*

Krauser: Well done, but last time you left on in. *smirk* I was very disappointed with you. *sits down*

Dude brings me my food and I catch HB5 looking at me across the other diners. She walks all the way across to a nearby table to collect an empty Coke can. Proximity IOI, I think so. As she turns towards me I open:

Krauser: Do I look like a bear?

HB5: Wha…. excuse me? *gleaming smile – the braces not the tooth enamel*

Krauser: I want to look like a bear, so I’m growing a beard. I’m all furry now, see.

HB5: *laughs, glances back to the building queue, comes and stands next to me*

Krauser: I have a lot of meetings at work and I’ve noticed nobody in the City has a moustache. Look *gesture to other diners*. So I was in a meeting and I suddenly realised I had the best moustache in the room. No matter how I’m dressed or what I’m presenting, I know I’ll always have the best moustache.

HB5 *smiling, wondering what the hell I’m saying, ignoring her waitress duties*

Krauser: So I start thinking why not grow a beard. There’s too much professionalism around here. It needs more wildness. I want to be a bear. Rrrrrrrrrrrr!

HB5 *giggles, steps closer*

After that we just chat, with me doing a generic neg of her home country (“Oh you’re not one of those girls are you? I knew two girls from [country] and they were bitches. You seen nice though”) and asking bio info like I’m screening her, e.g:

Krauser: So what do you like about London?

HB5: Uh, I don’t know. It’s nice

Krauser: That’s not an answer. Are you a party girl, or a serious girl? Haha! Caught you! There was that flash in your eye, a sparkle, when I said party girl. You were thinking of your favourite nightclub weren’t you.

HB5 *yet more giggling* Yes, there’s a club I like (blah blah).

I didn’t want to go to far in the first interaction. Partly because she’ll always be there, and partly I still can’t quite shake the idea that I’m slumming it by even trying. It’s not like she’s “my 10”. She’s my HB5. But I just know that next time I knock one out, I’ll be thinking of her….. I’ve got a semi on just writing this.