It’s day four of Team Krauser‘s FSU jaunt and now we are in some second-tier Russian city where endless steppe has been replaced with endless grey foreboding apartment blocks. The kind of style 1960s England used for municipal car parks. At 11pm we take a taxi to a local bar/club.

Rock’n’roll.

Literally. On stage behind the semi-circular long bar is a live act ripping through 80s and 90s guitar rock. All around locals are dancing with undisguised joy in that peculiarly non-ironic Russian manner. It’s a great atmosphere. Tom, Bodi and I stand motionless in the throng, scoping it out. Although far from a “high end” club, the quality is off the scale compared to London. There’s alot of painted-up sixes and sevens, a smattering of eights and importantly no fatties or munters at all. A pattern quickly emerges.

The hotter girls are standing in pairs at the bar or in small groups seated along the edge of the small dance floor. They all studiously ignore the throng of enthusiastic chodes dancing in front of them in a childlike manner to get attention. Never have I seen so much “pull” from a group of willing suitors. The girls alternatively blank them or politely indulge them for their efforts. Noticeably there are no “bitch faces”, ever. Guys are getting blown-out like Jihadis caught in the open against an Apache attack chopper but at no point are the girls petty and mean. Such a good atmosphere.

We are already drawing IOIs. Dressed English (and r-selected), having English faces, and not following the dancing-monkey routine means we stand out like a white man in KFC. I’ve decided to play the Jabba Game. Tom is far too impatient for that and immediately begins a circuit to open sets. For the first hour Bodi and I just talk to each other, build some vibe and studiously avoid value-scanning the room. It works because whereas I entered the club in shit state, by midnight I’m getting a buzz and feeling good. I can sense the subtle IOIs around me and they get stronger. Soon girls are walking past giving The Look or bumping into us purely to get noticed. I’m not used to it. In a London club I’d get one IOI per month.

Finally I’ve found a club I can put the Jabba Game to the test. I stalk the club, eyeing up girls and forcing looks before returning to Bodi. The first two times don’t uncover much but by 1am I’ve counted off ten girls who are pinging back with some interest. Unfortunately nothing above a high-seven. I open, putting the claw on two tall girls eyeing us up. Halfway through the girls eye-code and switch up so I am now talking to a six-foot blonde. She’s loving it but I’m off-form, not really in my element in clubs. I try the talking game and she’s playing along, letting me spin her around, check out her heels and so on but then she asks my star sign and on my answer she suddenly backturns and pulls her friend away. How weird.

Another tall brunette is eyeing me so I pull her in, kino a bit, but her English is weak. There’s no sizzle in the chat at all and I have to try a clumsy physical game. She likes me but it’s just not happening. Too clunky. I reopen her an hour later and do more of the same pushing for extraction but she smiles and declines. Tom has disappeared by now, having fortuitously bumped into a girl by the coat check who inexplicably offered to drive him home within a few minutes of conversation. He’s sniffed out a chance and put all his chips on one roll of the dice.

Lots of MILF types are eyeing us up but we don’t really want to forego a chance at the hotter-younger-tighter girls. I’m really getting to experience what Good Looking Guy Game is like. There are now a dozen girls IOIing me and the grottier ones are full-on eye-fucking me on and off for hours on end. I know that if I’m willing to drop down to a six, or thirty-plus girl, I have an easy SNL.

While coming out the toilets with Bodi I see a blonde and brunette eye us. As we walk past the blonde gets out of her seat, gets in my way and starts dancing with her back to me. Briefly I wonder if girls always did this and in my chode days I was too blind to see, or if it’s because now I’m cooler so the girls only do it now. I spin her around and immediately she’s put her hand on my shoulder and the other on my arse. She’s super-on. Bodi goes in with her friend. Language is poor but these girls are DTF so I start wondering if I should just take the easy cheeseburger. Then she tries to make me buy a whiskey for her so I walk off.

This kind of thing goes on with girls until past 2am. Once or twice the girls are solid eights but somehow not quite available (chode boyfriends in tow). We see raw naked hypergamy as girls are dancing with K-selected boyfriends while eyeing us up over his shoulder. My buzz is great but I’m impatient.

Finally as I return from the toilet again I make an all-in play. The blonde girl I’d backturned over whiskey is now necking on with the best-looking guy in the club. He looks like Tim Tebow – jacked, brawny, good features. He really does look like an NFL quarterback and his fashion and tattoos give him a player edge. Surprisingly he has no game – she’s a washed-up low six, not even the 25th hottest girl in the club – and he immediately latches onto her when she grabs him. An hour later he’s still with her and is trying to extract. At this moment I walk past and her now-solo brunette friend gives me The Look.

I walk in, grab her, and escalate. Within thirty seconds we’re kissing. The girls are eye-coding and my girl is desperately telling the blonde to leave and fuck the big guy. He’s standing there awkwardly while I do him the massive favour of turning the cockblock into a helper. He gets her away. I choke my girl as I kiss her and she whimpers with pleasure. That’s a test I always do now (hat tip D&P). I tell her

“Iet’s move”

and lead her by the hand to the cloakroom. There’s the usual “where are we going” and “what are we doing” so I tell her we’re having coffee at my apartment and nothing with happen. She stays in text contact with her blonde friend who has been playing silly-buggers in the taxi rank then ditched the guy to roam the club lost and forlorn. The capacity of women to ruin their own chances is incredible – one of the top guys in the club, a full three points better looking than her ageing carcass, was willing to bang her and she screwed it up pulling the same shit like she did with the whiskey on me.

My girl is only in my apartment five minutes before I’m knobbing her. She’s a biter, screamer and scratcher. Halfway through I hear Tom come in with his bird and he begins a laborious four-hour battle against LMR. After I shoot my muck on my girl’s tits I have to walk through the lounge to get toilet tissue and Tom is giving his girl a shoulder massage and eye-coding me to make myself scarce.
He knobs her a bit later on the sofa. My girl dresses and leaves at 9am, while Bodi is in an afterparty in some squalid Soviet-era apartment with some locals he met in the taxi rank. A good night.

Learning Points

• Being the shiny guy in a nightclub makes it all incredibly easy. I can’t remember ever getting laid with so little effort and so little game.
• GLGG isn’t really game. It’s like an adult playing in the Little League. It’s a completely different beast to getting girls more attractive than you are who rarely put out.
• I felt zero achievement. It was like buying a McDonalds on the way home to satisfy the munchies. A vastly different feeling to closing a daygame squirrel over two dates.
• All that said, what I did need to do was pick a horse to back and then show conviction. And the sex was fun.