As noted in the earlier post, I was in the enviable and entirely unexpected position of being able to feed entirely on Kiev girls who IOI’d me or who otherwise triggered my spider-sense of being susceptible to my approach. It made daygame so easy that it felt like shooting fish in a barrel and once more I decided that good-looking guys have no business at all trying to talk about approach anxiety. They don’t understand how incredibly easy they have it when girls are visibly checking them out.

Every open I did I felt bulletproof from the first moment.

After four days of picking warm targets I actually completely lost interest in pure cold approach. I told my wing, “I’m not gonna approach blind. I might as well use this novel situation as an opportunity to practice warm approach game. Finally I’ve got enough sets to be able to collect real data and try different things.” When I did contemplate a blind open (i.e. the girl gave no indication whatsoever that she’s be amenable to stopping) I was reminded of the need for a bit of character strength and thought “fuck that, why bother?”

I can understand why good-looking guys weasel out of genuine cold approach and settle for a -2 point hypergamy deficit. When you’re used to sliding downhill into pussy, climbing mountains becomes pretty unappealing. I wasn’t happy about taking the easy route. Not that I want game to be tough but I felt like I was underselling myself by going after what was easy rather than what I wanted. A hot well-put together girl walked past me in an underground mall and I felt that DNA tug. This would be completely cold.

• No IOI. She hadn’t even noticed my existence.
• No spider sense. She was walking briskly towards the bus stop, obviously having just finished work.
• No softners in her style. She was smartly dressed in expensive well-coordinated clothes.

There was no reason at all to suppose she liked me or would like being stopped. Okay, that’s the blind approach I need to discipline myself. I was expecting to get a figurative splash of cold water across the face but I followed her anyway. She was moving fast, already halfway up the escalator and I didn’t catch up until street level at her bus stop. I talk a lot about the Russian Minute but I rarely get it anymore. These days they all either walk off immediately or smile and start eye-spazzing. This girl reminded me of the more difficult times as she looked stone-cold, expressionless and answered everything with clipped polite language. She actually said “what do you want?”

Not to be deterred I ploughed on and she softened. Two minutes in she said “My bus comes now” so I took a number. Mentally, it was filed in the going-nowhere box. Nonetheless I send out my feeler the next day. Surprisingly, she agreed to coffee with little preamble. I figured she wasn’t much of a texter when she didn’t bite on the banter fodder I threw out. She quickly snatched the frame and my heart sank. When a girl starts switching plans or telling you where she wants to go it’s a pretty good sign that she’s going to waste your time or start a frame war.

Thing is, if it’s the latter you might actually fuck her. Nobody kicks a dead dog and girls don’t frame-war a guy they are uninterested in. I decided I was willing to invest an hour in coffee to find out which. I didn’t have a lot of date action going on at the time. I started to lean towards the frame-war interpretation when she remained in contact and felt sufficiently accountable to me that kept me up to date with her status. Not a big sign, but moving in the right direction.

The date itself was straight out of my 2012 experiences in the Balkans. High value girl, fairly mainstream, intelligent, strong-willed and unwilling to surrender the frame without a strong test. I know greyhounds so I knew the battle-plan. Ten minutes into the date I’d given up on the squirrel/cat strategies of spiking them silly or turning on the secret society sleaze. This girl was probably Suspicious On and was going to insist I jump through some hoops first. I could either accept that (at the risk of having my time wasted) or walk. What wouldn’t work is trying to crush her frame and move it along fast.

Fortunately she was a pleasure to talk to, had decent English, and had planned a nice walk through the park to finish in a good cafe. It’s not losing the frame to let a girl in her hometown give you a mini-tour of some places she likes. I played along to enjoy the new sights and deployed my Most Interesting Man In The World Game. It really felt like 2012. My objectives were simple, in chronological order:

Settle into a comfortable vibe -> Display MIMITW value -> Let her kick the tires -> Qualify her -> Go for kiss.

I didn’t care if I got the kiss this date. This was a case of soft physical escalation because she was going to judge me as a value proposition rather than a spur-of-the-moment adventure. Everything about her showed her forebrain was in full control, chaperoning her hindbrain like a Victorian aunt. She never eye sparkled, her laughter was dinner-party-like, and when she allowed me to kino-test her fingers and hair she looked at me like a ballroom dancer being led through steps she’s already studied.

I felt her warming to me and could almost here her private checklist being ticked off. But what I didn’t know is if the final score would add up to “okay hindbrain, I’m going to leave you two alone now”. There were a number of frame-control tests that I just instinctively passed such as her wandering off a bit, leaving long silences, asking direct questions and so on. It didn’t feel the slightest bit impolite. It was more like Duelling Banjos where she was the city slicker throwing out some challenge chords and I was the retarded hillbilly kid smashing them back with interest until we were both ready to jam.

It started raining and after an hour I had to make my excuses to go, setting a limit on my time. I knew I couldn’t escalate my way to an answer on the “is she a timewaster” question – not on this date. Instead I had to make my move and allow the bubble to burst. If she allowed me to reblow the bubble over texting the next day, it would be a successful date. So as we walked through the park to her bus stop I did the “See that lampost? That’s where I’ll kiss you” move and she deftly eluded three kiss close attempts. I didn’t try too hard. She’d got the message. The retarded hillbilly kid had run up and down the scales, now it was up to her.