I’m working these days so I’ve not got much time or inclination for chasing girls. For a couple of years while I was building up the various pillars of my life (health, romance, travel etc) it was all coming at the cost of my Career/Financial pillar slowly eroding. The transition from go-getting professional banker to lazy hammock-sleeping wop is a gradual process so it took a while to realise Expert System Energy Husky was becoming increasingly agitated. I refuse to be one of those pussy-hounds that the Community so lionises, who do the “300 Day Challenge” or other such ego-ridden nonsense that results in your whole identity being wrapped up in chasing women. Men who’ll find themselves hitting their mid-thirties prime with loserness having crept up on them by squandering their 20s on the pussy carousel.

My ego demands entirely different gratification! I still work towards the Cervantes-esque male development model and right now that means topping up my career and savings. There’s something purposeful and satisfying about making my early morning walk to work and then coming home that evening with a pocketful of loot and the serene calm of having participated in a high-level value exchange. Manly pride has to be earned in manly arenas. Women can’t provide it.

So I plan to work until Christmas and then begin 2013 with a long sabbatical. Until then I’m just keeping my existing women ticking over. Here’s a sample of how I do it. I’ve put a focus on their hamsterbation.

Belorussian

Her: How is it today?

Me: relaxed I’m writing a report and I have to go to a client office next to [redacted] for a meeting at 4pm what are you wearing?

Her: Nick)) ahahah)) I’m wearing the leggings in which my ass looks especially appetizing and a long sweater )

Me: Hmmm….. I won’t undress you. I’ll just rip a hole in the leggings big enough to squeeze my dick through and roll up your sweater

Her: such a pervert )

Me: yes you are

Her: he)) Others usually call me an angel 😉

Me: heh

Her: My teachers from Uni are so lazy that I will write the recommendation letters for me instead them Going to do it in English it means the teachers will never know what’s written there I need it for Uni in Uk

Me: how is your escape plan so far? I’m quite impressed that you are doing all of this hard work to try to get back into my bed

Her: ahaha)) I’m not gonna say no and ruin your fantasy )

Me: Maybe I’ll buy a blow-up sex doll and give it the same haircut as you, same clothes… same tarty facial expression then I’ll abuse it and lock it in my cellar

Her: ahaha! Nick! you’re awful ! too much sometimes I gonna to to my dance class

A few days later after a Skype call….

Her: It was nice to see your british face yesterday 😉

Me: yeah, I liked chatting with you. It’s a bit difficult, now I’m starting to like you….

Her: Don’t play games with me, Nick You do It’s warning ))

Me: i’m playing xbox games

Her: YOU ARE THE REASON OF MY BRAIN EXPLOSION

Me: heh!

Her: I’m totally lost somewhere between Russia and UK

Me: look at some photos of me, and you’ll feeling better

Her: ahaha) worse all your photos are full of Slavic beaches =D

Me: beaches or bitches?

Her: ahahaha)) sorry And you also don’t want to date with me such a bastard )) Probably I should delete you on the facebook and sleep well then )))

Me: you’re in Russia, what do you expect me to do? buy an NKVD cap and Nagan revolver, call everyone “comrade”?

Her: hehe))) I don’t expect anything It’d be quite stupid )) You give me a lot of emotions doing nothing ) it’s obviously a talent =D

Me: the English word is “charisma” I just ordered a big fat pizza mmmmmm

Her: lucky you)

and a few days after that….

Me: buy some Union Jack underwear next time you are here

Her: then I’ll be look like a typical UK tourist in your bed ! =D

Me: I like those Union Jack things. Top left (link to girl’s vest with British flag)

Her: no)) I already passed ‘typical tourist step of being in England’ no british flag on my clothes any more )

Me: I insist

Her: If you insist you can buy it for me ) 😛

Me: I might

Her: Really ? )))

Me: I want you to look good when I fuck you, so maybe I’ll buy you things

Her: ahahah))) don’t make excuses never will believe that this buying of Union Jack is because you want to be with me forever and die in one day together =D

Me: that’s scary

Her: for sure )

Me: so now you dream of marrying me I should run away

Her: ahaha) I was sure that you know me better )

Me: I had two girls ask to marry me in October. Don’t want any more in November

Her: I could ask you to marry me for getting UK citizenship only, but you would ask to much money I guess =D no choice only free sex and probable Union Jack underwear as a bonus )

Me: I might start charging you money to have sex with me too

Her: those women who asked you to marry them were crazy or drank or both?

Me: an ex-girlfriend (Russian), who still loves me and wants my children and an English girl who I never dated but she thinks I’m the perfect husband, like Darcy or Heathcliffe

Her: hm…curious ) too much attention for one terrible person 😛 but unfortunately guys who have wanted to marry me I was playing ‘good girl game’ with )

Me: I can imagine nice guys would want to marry you. And also that you control them and make them do lots of things for you they probably all call you an angel too 😀

Her: no the last time I was talking with my boyfriend he called me terrible and soulless bitch =D I don’t think that I’m like this, honestly… I’m close to an angel )

Me: he probably called you that because he now realises he was wrong about you, and can’t accept responsibility for his own inability to understand women

Her: I don’t think so i gave you his expression without context doesn’t matter you’re much worse than I am My personality is still depending on people (especially men) who surround me the influence can change me i’m not fixed yet… but you’re already formed by your experience and it’s an irrepairable damage I should run away from you

Serb B

Her: hey Nick I have one message for you, it`s long, dont be scare 🙂

Me: ok 🙂

Her: I know this is my usually story, but this time I want to be determined. I don’t t think its normal that I miss something it doesn’t exist actually…. People miss things if they care about and like something what they have in their lives, or what they gat use to…I don’t want either of that with something I don’t feel it`s real. You exist here only as a word, sentence and picture.

I’ve said this several times and always break my rule, because it was – “I am about losing control but I think I like it”…. I cant even explain how you don’t think something is weird. I see that I am doing things which I usually do with people who are around me, for example sharing a great news, saying how I feel…and that is not normal.

Having fun is ok, that’s one thing, but living in illusion is wrong..every level or type of illusion. I have to go

Me: There is no illusion. I like you, you like me. Communication is about words, thoughts, and feelings. We share those now. When we video chat on Skype we can also share the face-to-face contact and see each other. These are good feelings. We don’t need a purpose or a mission. Happiness is it’s own goal and when we talk we like the feeling it gives. When you eat delicious food or listen to sweet music do you think “this is an illusion” or “what is the future”? No. You enjoy the feeling it gives you in the moment. Too many people live with their minds in the future or the past. Happiness is when you live in the present and enjoy the moments as they come to you.

And life goes on….

Here’s another facebook sex chat. The girl in question is my new favourite Serb, a 20 year old student and volleyball player that I met in October. We had two long dates together on my last two days in town and the crucial thing is we never kissed. I went for it, obviously, but she was playing a very guarded hand. I know she’s massively into me but something is holding her back.

So it leaves me with an escalation problem. We aren’t far enough along for her to come visit me in London (plus there’s massive friction because of her age and parents), and I’m not going out there to see a girl I haven’t kissed. The solution is to escalate over Facebook with classic Long Game until I can get her masturbating and sending naked photos. Once those are filed away I know it’ll be worth a trip. I do like this girl so I’m not going to blow it off with a “she wouldn’t kiss, what a time waster” type ego trip.

I decided to work a smooth and long escalation by putting alot of time into the atmosphere, pacing and leading her emotions so every little step forwards seems natural,not asking for much input from her. For the first 2/3 of this the video was on too so I could calibrate to her actions as she lay in bed. It was interesting to see her eyes widen, cheeks flush, and body language become more sensual as the chat progressed. Once it was fairly heavy the video went off – possibly a recurring bandwith problem, perhaps she was shy about me seeing her so turned on. So, here it is. I did the usual “lets imagine a perfect holiday” entrypoint and got her to choose the location (Sicily):

Me: So we’ll arrive by boat. A little local ferry, driven by an ancient Sicilian guy with a flat hat and tanned weather-beaten face    We’ll have old fashioned suitcases, leather ones with brass buckles and leather straps I’ll be wearing a panama hat and beige suit      like this it’s hot 🙂 tell me what you’ll wear

Her: (link)

Me: ok you’ll probably need a hat too so we’ll get a local taxi to drive us up the hillside to our hotel a little old 1970s Fiat with a coughing engine and sticky plastic seats bad air conditioning struggling to get up the hill, and the driver speaking random stuff in Italian saying “mama mia” alot Finally we ‘ll walk through reception. We’ll have to sign in as Mr & Mrs Black, to protect appearances and your honour but not spies     or perhaps we are 😉

Her: like a movie

Me: Yes, Mrs Black we’ll take our own suitcases to our rooms, because they are heavy with all our spy stuff and guns I’ll be all hot and sweaty so I’ll immediately jump in the shower

Her: me first

Me: as you unpack the clothes you’ll hear me singing you know my shower song?

Her: be a gentleman       you told me

Me: (link to Right Said Fred – I’m Too Sexy) so I’ll walk around the room in my towel, like James Bond, while you undress and get in the shower you’ll enjoy the cold water on your skin, washing off all the travel very refreshing cooling you down so when you put on your evening dress, it feels soft and cold show me what you’ll wear. We’ll be going out for dinner at a restaurant by the sea it’s getting late, the sun is going down and splashing the sky red

Her: (link)

Me: nice you’ll have earings and a sparkling necklace too so we’ll walk out into the cooling evening air, still a bit hot. Me striding ahead, my chin up, looking at the buildings around us. You on my arm, tottering on your high heels to keep up we’ll walk through cobbled streets, row upon row of small white houses, some with washing hanging from the balcony a couple of dogs running around, radio sounds of a football match then we get to a seaside restaurant and sit at a table on the patio, just a few feet from the soft waves splashing against the sea wall the waiter looks like this

he hands us handwritten menus in Italian, we try to order what do you ask for?

Her: pasta

Me: what sauce? it’ll be fish probably, next to the sea chilli fish I’ll get a steak so we sit and eat, washing it down with local wine. We can see the vineyards up on the hill getting a little drunk as the sun goes down and the sky turns a dark blue already there’s music coming from the bars, some of it live and groups of local musicians move from table to table playing requests we finish up and move on to the most fun-sounding bar

Her: (link to Luna Rossa)    that’s south italian music i want that song in this night

Me: yeah, I’ve heard that before. I like it they’ll be playing it on little guitars and accordians here I have to put my hand on your shoulder to stop you getting up and dancing before we’ve finished eating there’ll be time for that later

Her: but you can not stop me you are standing up and starting to dance with me

Me: Just this once I watch you moving your weight, gradually getting into the music, your hips beginning to sway, your head moving to shake your hair As you loosen up and feels the beat, I pull you in to me so we can dance together a little I let your hand rest on my shoulder while you pick up your wine glass for a sip my hand on your hip and the other holding my drink we dance a bit more, the music stops but we don’t really notice just enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze from the sea, the slapping sound of the waves, and the distant sounds of music and laughter from the bars it’s a beautiful scene and we are happy to be there so I give you a quick kiss on the forehead, take your hand, and we walk off to a bar

Her: and?

Me: well, we are laughing now. We feel free like this but busier    I order a double whiskey for myself. What cocktail do you drink?

Her: find some darker place.. with low lights

Me: I looked. Can you find one?

Her: ill try

Me: ok, how aout this?      so, what drink do you have?

Her: i take wine

Me: ok so we take our drinks into the darkest corner we can find

Her: yes

Me: some soft red velvet seats, the material worn thin by use over thirty years the bar is busy, lots of chatting and shouting, everyone having fun it’s all in Italian they don’t notice us, too busy with each other we don’t care, we came here to be alone so we sit and drink, not talking much now, just enjoying sitting with each other I like looking at you, with your hair and makeup done nice, and an elegant evening dress you like absorbing my male energy, leaning against me soon you feel so relaxed your head is resting on my shoulder as my arm is around you we look around us, at the posters on the walls, the local people – fishermen, builders, waiters, wine makers, tailors… the local colour of life everything else seems so far away I’m stroking your hair now, scratching the side of your head softly like you are a cat sipping my whiskey you feel so warm and relaxed, you just want me to kiss you I notice this, I can see your eyes soften and your pupils dilate your lips moisten so I hook my finger softly under your chin, raise it upwards so you are looking up into my eyes, and I give you a kiss not too much, yet. I don’t want you to be greedy then I call to the barman to give us another round of drinks and some peanuts salted you ask for cookies but he doesn’t understand you he brings you an old leather shoe we drink a bit more. we are silent now we don’t need to talk, there’s nothing to say. we just enjoy the atmosphere around us after our drink it’s getting late, time to walk home it’s only a short walk but I see a young boy riding a bicycle I tell him I’ll give him £10 if he lets us borrow his bike. He laughs and grabs the money, a big smile on his face, and I get on the bike While I hold it steady and lean forward, you get on the back and sit in the seat, your feet on the back wheelnuts it shakes side to side a bit as I start to pedal, the cobbles rattling the wheels, you squeal a little worried you’ll fall but as we pick up speed it gets better and your squeals of fear become squeals of delight, like a little girl being given a cookie so I pedal up to the hotel and park the bike outside reception the garden looks exactly like this now

there’s noone around, it’s abotu 11pm and everyone is either in bed, or out by the sea your heart is still beating fast from the bike ride, and hanging onto me you grab onto my arm as we walk up the steps. I stop at the top and turn towards you, see you looking up at me with anticipation somewhere in the tree nearby a bird chirps this time I give you a proper kiss, deep and long, until you feel your heart flutter and you struggle for breath your resist a little at first, pushing against my manliness, to see how I am, to enjoy psychologically feeling my male energy you push me away a little with your hands on my chest, not really trying, just a symbolic effort for a few seconds you keep your lips tightly closed but a few seconds is all you can resist, then you have to surrender to what you’ve been feeling all day and you fall into the kiss, your hands snaking around behind my neck, as I put my hands on you it seems like time stops and then I pull away, leaving you gasping, and lead you into our room I kick off my shoes, as do you open up my suitcase to take out a bottle of good scottish whiskey and pour a glass you are standing by the window looking outside looking at the stars, the twinkling lights of the seaside, and far in the distance some lights on the cruise ships at anchor your dress feels nice on you, you like how you feel and, catching your reflection in the glass you like how you look reflected in the glass, you see me walk over to you you stay looking outside, waiting for me to reach you, anticipating the little spark of electricity through your skin as my hand touchs your shoulder slowly traces a line down your spine and then rests softly on your hip your whole body shudders a little, a warm flow of energy through your stomach and down your arms the you can feel my other hand sweeping your hair away from your neck you are still looking forwardyou really want to turn around, to look at me, to grab me, to kiss me but you also enjoy this feeling of denying yourself holding yourself steady, eyes fixed ahead, a test of your mental discipline and you know I like it too I bend my head towards you. My lips are only millimetres above your skin you can feel my breath against your neck, almost wet little goosebumps rise your chest feels hot and flushed now I slowly blow air onto your skin, moving my mouth up and down from the top of your neck and along your shoulder I can sense you shivering, your knees weak I glance upwards for a moment at the window to see your reflection. I see you biting your lip, a pained expression in your eyes I smile and softly bite your neck, at the same time as I tighten my grip on your hip then I spin you slowly around to face me you are looking up into my eyes now it’s like the rest of the world is a blur… all you can see is my eyes vividly, filling your vision, very sharp and looking deep into your soul for a moment I let this happen then I pull you to me I feel your whole body fall into my shape your chest against mine, your stomach touching mine, even your thighs pushed against my thighs and of course our lips touching now we kiss much harder there’s no restraint now, just the bursting of the dam, the gate flying open it’s passionate and high energy, I take a handful of your hair and pull you tighter into me as my tongue pushes further into you you can feel the sting in your hair but it’s not really hurting just like spice on food, it’s more exciting

(video link goes off)

so now you are grabbing me, your hands running up and down my arms, along my shoulders feeling the shape of my muscles beneath my shirt squeezing, testing the strength wondering how it feels to be held, crushed, in those arms knowing you’ll find out soon I put my hands under your ass and lift you up, you jump onto me, legs wrapped around while I stand you’re hanging onto me tight, slightly above me know, bending your head down to kiss me and grab my head squeezing your legs together to avoid falling I turn around and throw you back onto the bed you land with a big thump and let out an excited squeal I undo my shirt now you push yourself back against the headboard, reaching behind you to stack up the pillows behind your head, not taking your eyes off me watching as I unbutton my shirt and throw it over a chair I pull off my trousers too so just my boxer shorts I’m wearing my sexiest shorts      you’ve already pulled your dress off, so I can see you lying there in just your underwear what colour is it?

Her: black

Me: nice, I like black. it matches your hair well so you are looking up at me, taking in the shape of my wide shoulders the determined thoughtful look on my face and the intense interest I’m looking at you you know I desire you you like to be desired by me it makes you feel like a woman I’m looking at you on my bed, lying there, semi-naked your chest rising and falling heavily with your breathing a soft red flush on your cheeks and chest smooth female curves of your shoulders, breasts, hips and calves I look at you waiting for me and know I want to take you so I put my knee onto the bed and lean over, my face just a few cm above yours then I climb over, get into bed, and fall asleep Part 2 will have to wait for another time how was my story?

Her: it was like real like it’s happening now to me

Me: you have good imagination, I like that

Her: always

Me: Something strange happened. As I was writing the story, you seemed to get prettier

Her: really?

Me: I think it was your facial expression you began to look softer, happier, a very natural smile and your body language became looser it’s attractive you are cutest when you are less guarded like now

Her: i know

Me: I like to see you like this. I knew it was there, but would take some time to express itself

Her: when i show this part of me it doesn’t finish very well for me do you know what i want to say?

Me: I think so it’s natural I think as a girl you want to find a good guy who you respect, trust, and are attracted to you want to fall into his world, experience how he lives, how he sees the world give yourself to him, like a present of love to reward him for how he makes you feel but to do that, you must surrender some of your will, some of your independence and it makes you vulnerable is that what you mean?

Her: something like that thay use it against me so it’s better to pretend that i’m cold one

Me: in the beginning, perhaps to reject all the men you don’t want

Her: i don’t know where am i wrong

Me: you’re not wrong, you are just inexperienced

…… I wrap up this part with ten minutes talking about comfort stuff and further qualification. Part two soon……

First night in Zagreb is a thunderstorm. Excited teenagers huddle under shop awnings as their Sunday night plans are washed away. I head out to my favourite restaurant for steak and spend the rest of the night at my apartment, chatting on Facebook. Things unexpectedly perk up. Not only does my top girl confirm our Monday evening meeting but another cold lead, a stunningly beautiful Audrey Hepburn-alike, hits me up out of nowhere with “Hey, I see from your status you’re in Zagreb. Sorry I never replied to your messages but I don’t like Facebook chat. Do you want to meet?”. Fuck yeah, she’s a solid nine. I can’t stress enough how much she looks like Audrey Hepburn. It’s not a mere resemblance, she’s a spitting double. I hail mary all the other vaguely-warm Zagreb leads in my phonebook and get four responses out of ten but logistics eventually puts them all on the backburner.

I shit you not

Monday lunchtime Audrey shows up and we spend five hours drinking coffee, then whiskey and finally rum. It’s a funny old date. There’s no question she fancies me but I can feel a barrier and know it’s not on. Deep rapport is perfect and within two hours we are strongly connected and sharing alot of our identities. I really like this girl. But the kino isn’t there, she isn’t reciprocating the verbal escalation and she deftly maintains social distance. This presents something of a quandry. I can’t smoothly escalate but nor can I allow this date to end without making an unambiguous statement of intent. She has to know she’s dealing with a man, not a wuss. So three hours in I make my big move. I’m waiting for a hypnotic scanning moment but several times it almost happens and then she breaks it off just before it gets intense. So next time it happens I just tell her:

• Me: I want to kiss you now
• Her: You shouldn’t try
• Me: *vacuum eyes*
• Her: I can tell you why, if you want
• Me: Tell me

She launches into a long explanation about how she does find me attractive and if I’d done this earlier in the year she’d have had sex with me but at the moment she’s hung up on her ex boyfriend and trying to get him back. Harumph! She orders another drink and I just go back to rapport and framing. My best bet is this is 50-50, when logistics clear. That’s better than the 0% I rated it 24 hours earlier. But we say our goodbyes and my mind quickly turns to Vampira (I’ll let a picture of her lookalike explain it)

One in the middle

She’s smoking hot. Properly jaw-dropping sultry beauty in a little ballerina-sized body. Imagine a slavic version of Penelope Cruz in From Dusk Till Dawn. Now this is how it looks when a girl is up for it! We meet in a whiskey bar at 8pm and she’s dolled up well and immediately giving me the eye. She’s in the fashion industry and looks it, dressed like a comic book siren. So I settle into my drink and just let things unfold. She’s knocking the vodka back fast. I know what that means. I hold position and let her come to me. Within an hour she’s climbing over me in the bar so I start looking towards extracting her. She insists on showing me a nearby bar which serves a blueberry liquor (tasty, as it happens) and agrees to the short five minute walk to my apartment giving herself the pretext that she wants to watch the Mad Max 1 rerun that starts two hours later. Pretty quickly she’s topless on my bed and I start breaking down the LMR.

It’s here that something just clicks into place mentally. I suddenly figure out what it is about this girl (and other previous girls) that I really liked sexually versus the girls who I quickly tired of. Vampira has a tight little ballerina’s body but her hips and breasts are almost bursting out of her clothes. They aren’t big per se but there’s a buxom quality to her proportions and skin tone. The closest analogy I can conjure is to imagine an inflated beachball. When fully (perhaps over-) inflated the rubber is struggling to contain the air pushing against it from inside and it takes on a tight stretched look with all the wrinkles pushed out of it. In a girl this is like smooth vibrant skin with good subcuteous fat and strong curves. The girl seems totally in bloom. This I like. Vampira had such a tight young body I was slavering like a hungry wolf. In contrast Myrka looked great in clothes but once they came off she had a slightly deflated look. The taut stretchy vibrance just wasn’t there. And that, dear readers, drains me of the will to fuck a girl.

I made a mental note of it then started biting her ass. “Harder, leave marks” she purrs.

Artist’s impression, yesterday

Just as I start yanking her tights down she tells me “I promised myself I wouldn’t go that far tonight”, and that’s that. I set her hindbrain against it but she’s not budging. So we roll around a bit having our jollies but I’m gonna have to wait another date to fuck her. Harumph!

Next day I drink coffee and fly home to the land of ugly women. God save the queen.

I’m sitting in Zagreb airport sipping a Cedevita orange drink waiting for my gate call, one week after beginning this short jaunt out of London. An unexpected window opened up in my job schedule so with only a few day’s notice I’d gotten in touch with my top Belgrade girl and informed her of an impending whirlwind visit. Pre-framing myself that this wasn’t a gaming holiday I set myself easily attainable goals. Just frollick through the city with her for a few days, taking in the sights, smells and tastes while I catch up on my reading in the pavement cafes when she’s at university. That would be the first five days and then catch two days in Zagreb with my top girl there. I’d consider it a successful trip if I knocked over either girl, finished three books, and washed off the memory of work. I very much pre-framed myself out of doing daygame because I just didn’t want the pressure of relentlessly approaching ’till I got laid. This was about relaxation.

It turned out a little different.

First night I walk out my little private apartment and onto the main promenade to meet my girl (we’ll call her Myrka, after the porno actress she closely resembles), the streets bustling with the early evening crowd. Already my head is turning every minute as another beautiful Krauser girl totters past. London this is not. In the short walk to Coffee Dream I’ve seen at least twenty girls who excite me more than the girl I’m about to meet. It’s reminiscent of my July trip in Istanbul where I was walking around with my Turkish ex, a famous actress, and while every male head was turning to gawp at her my head was gawping at the young tight Turkish girls who made my blood bubble far more than the older lady I was with. I know there’s a problem. I shouldn’t feel like this on the way to a date with a girl I feel genuine affection for, a low-eight. Certainly not a grotty pump’n’dump candidate.

After eating in the traditional restaurant district I take Myrka home and fuck her. She’s completely deeply converted, more than willing to let me defile every orifice and treat her however I deem appropriate. But I just don’t have the will for it. I send her home and I’ve already lost interest in her. It’s not a nice feeling. Much soul searching follows.

My number two Serb confirms she’s not making the 4-hour trip from her hometown because she can’t face lying to her parents about it. I’ll get this girl next time but I’m not sure if I should. I’m feeling quite dark sided and uncomfortable with it.

Next day I can no longer resist so I knock out five or six sets until I get a weak-looking number from a smoking hot volleyball player (we’ll call her Maria, after the fitness model she closely resembles) and a dappy 18 year old tart I idate for an hour. The latter seems like a solid prospect but her mum calls and cockblocks. She goes on to facebook for long game and mummy’s visit means I don’t see her again this trip. I meet Myrka again to test my feelings, see if I’m just getting a low-libido revulsion and that I actually still fancy her but no, it’s gone. I’m cold. We watch the new Total Recall in the cinema and the whole time my mind is on hitting the streets to rustle up new targets. Secure Attachment Pug is off chasing cars, Relentless Notch Count Hyena is scratching at the door for the first time in months. I tell Myrka its over and she nearly collapses. A new alpha widow.

The third day rolls around and I try to recover my original plan, sipping coffee and working through my books. It’s impossible. Hot girls are everywhere. Not necessarily approacheable because Belgrade girls rarely walk solo but enough to keep my attention wandering. I see a hot solo girl go past and put down my book to give chase….. and some awkward asian guy flies past and opens her with a really clumsy street stop. Harrumph! Once you’ve daygamed you always recognise it so I look around for his coach and who may that be but James Marshall. I’m not letting these streets go uncontested! A smoking hot Krauser Girl ambles by and I claim her. Nice girl, but its not on. I do a few more sets and end up with another two numbers while Maria is returning my texts. She seems keen.

I’m at a low point now. It’s the first time in three years I’ve gamed a foreign country without a wing. Solo foreign daygame is hard. You have to really control your state. There’s a whole mix of emotions mostly trying to talk myself out of gaming (“this is meant to be a reading holiday”) knowing full well that my core is driving me to find new girls. Maria texts to say she’s finished university late (this is Friday evening) and is going home. My Hail Mary invite hits and she comes out to meet me late on. As she struts across Republica Square many heads turn and I congratulate myself inwardly. The date goes very well, stretching out till past midnight and several bars. She’s got a tight rein on herself so I know there’s no hope of a first night lay. Perhaps someone of Steve‘s calibre could pull it off, but I’m at the stage where knocking over eights is usually a multi-date challenge. Deep rapport goes beautifully and she really warms to the questions game telling me it’s a month since she had sex (her only ever sexual partner), she’s only ever kissed ten boys, and her most embarrassing secret is she likes to lock herself in the bathroom and dance to her ipod. The date ends with a non-committal peck on the lips but I know this girl is well into me. A couple more dates and there’ll be another deep conversion. My mood has lifted.

Saturday comes and I struggle out of bed at noon. I’m still having the internal to-daygame-or-not-to-daygame struggle. As I walk to Coffee Dream for late breakfast the choice is made for me when another cute Krauser Girl goes by. Another number. Over coffee Maria texts to request a second date within the hour. Ok, suits me. James Marshall walks past me with another student so I introduce myself then head off to the date.

I have the most enjoyable afternoon of the trip, walking along the river, through quaint streets, sharing coffee, sitting in the park. It’s five hours of delightful company with Maria on my arm. My ego loves how many passersby clock us and head turn. Every time a hot girl does it I go into my little chick crack routine:

• Me: I know what she’s thinking, you know
• Her: What?
• Me: She’s looking at you and thinking “how the hell did she find a guy like him? where can I get one?”

I still don’t fuck her but this is Belgrade not LA. She asks for my email and we’ve been chatting since. So I leave Belgrade having upgraded my local girl from a low-eight to a high-eight. I feel mercenary. The bus trundles on towards Zagreb and I have low expectations for the two days I’ll be there. No time to game and only 70% sure my top target will turn up as promised on the last day (she’s off in her hometown for the weekend)…. to be continued…..