Saturday night in Playa Del Carmen

January 9, 2012

I’m didn’t come to Mexico for game, quite unlike my last 18 months of trips which were unabashedly about hitting on the local birds. 2012 is my year of not giving a fuck about knobbing women. Sure, I’m still gonna open and still gonna close but for the first time in years I have a who-gives-a-fuck-I’m-a-man-and-everything-is-in-order tranquility that allows me to focus on other pursuits. There’s an interesting story about the dappy tarts Toe and I dated last night (we didn’t bang ’em) and it begins when they didn’t show up at 8pm outside McDonalds for the Day 2. We agree to give them 15 minutes maximum before bailing and then I see a gorgeous girl go by. Perfect mix of youth, prettiness and not-overdone-hotness. So I open her. It sticks, so I decide the dappy tarts have missed their chance and I idate the new girl instead. Here’s the street open:

I haven’t bothered with editing the idate itself. It was routine stuff for an hour. She wants to meet again but time will tell. It’s not long till I go to Cuba and I’m far more interested in stockpiling a mountain of cheap Cuban cigars than I am about closing a bird, despite the fact she’s clearly my type. Wouldn’t turn it down, but I’m not in the mood for chasing girls when I could be swimming in the sea or breaking out my Rosetta Stone to learn Mexican.

A nice bird, yesterday

After the date I meet Toe back at the hotel and we go out for a fine feast at Taco Loco (recommendation of a local hostel owner we’ve been drinking with). The dappy tarts get in touch making all manner of excuses then agree to come to our hotel bar. We sit playing Jenga and they do in fact show about 11pm all dolled-up like proper club tarts on their way to the BPM music festival. The chance of us going to a club district full of monotone screeching dance music is about the same as the chances of Burnley winning the league. We decline and let the girls go. They are in high spirits and a bit drunk despite having tottered on their high heels for 20 minutes to get to us. Toe and I decide to chill in the hotel room and wait for the late-night post-club text, if it comes. The decision seems binary: they get a better offer and we never hear from them, or they don’t and they come to our hotel for a nailing. Neither happens. Toe begins the light text game at 2am.

Toe: Pacifico or Victoria?

Girl: U guys have a bad attitude u shouldn’t talk like that. U think we r sluts we’re not. Stop harrassing us [I paraphrase]

Uh??? These girls had been texting us 3-to-1 for 24 hours. It’s an absolute non-sequitor. We hadn’t done the slightest escalation verbal or physical. Can only imagine its a classic case of projection because they are sluts. Whatever. I was sleepy so I went to sleep.


  1. Go to Isla Mujeres and stay in the hostel (the main one, the one with the beach, forgot its name… “your home in the caribbean” or something)

    I spent some 3 wonderful weeks there.

  2. Krauser’s ”slow conversations that don’t lead to sex” game is unparalleled [Send me one of your infields and I’ll post it. K.]

  3. Second request to see some of Slick Ricks infield handywork – I’ve got pen and paper ready to take notes on your “fast conversations that lead to sex” game. Put your money where your mouth is fella.

    The dappy chicks flake is the very reason all intelligent men who want to have sexual options need to get into game. The dappy chicks disrespected/flaked and K has the skill and applied practice to instantly generate a new lead. You immediately forget the flake and move onto bigger and better things, confident in the knowledge that at any moment, with a flick of the switch, you can generate new options. Thats a powerful mindset to have while the AFC might spend a couple of hours moping and asking himself why they flaked.

  4. “These girls had been texting us 3-to-1 for 24 hours. ”

    m’be they got internet access in Mehico, reaqd your blog an all.

  5. God this girl in your vid is boring. Doesn’t seem very bright either.

  6. Thanks Krauser for your awesome blog! Just a little warning here on cigars in Cuba. Anything they offer you on the street or via the uncle-who-works-in-the-factory is fake and usually bad no matter how good they look. No exceptions! But you can still try a factory tour in Havanna and game the pretty tour guide…

  7. Ah, Krauser opens another minger and contemplates semi-hookers in Cuba, it’s inspirational stuff.

  8. I’m the David for the previous post (all the Guadalajara stuff and else).

    Your pronunciation for the city name is quite good for an average English speaker. But, as you have maybe realised, not all Mexican girls speak English well. I must say she understood 65% you said -all while speaking slow-.

    Good job, but IMHO she followed because of the priceless fantasy that is to talk with a random English tourist.

    Unavoidable cliché statement: What do you do all Mexicans? Do you have Tequila?

    P.S: Also, let me tell you: DayGame is not usual here. That’s why I’m pretending to do it soon.

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  10. Hey K, where do you stick your gum cam? If I stick it to the top of my tshirt it points too far upwards, if I put it on my tshirt pocket it points too far to the left side.


    If you watch carefully, at some point the camera aims at Krauser’s Face, so it’s pretty obvious that he was using a wrist-watch-cam.

    Like this one:

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