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.

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.

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.

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

*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.

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.