Pipelining for another Eastern European jaunt

March 24, 2012
krauserpua

As is now my custom, now that the chilly frost of winter is behind me (not that I noticed while in Mexico, Cuba, Belize and Thailand) the golden path to Eastern Europe has opened. So JJ and I have packed our suitcases and are off on another trawl of slavic women. One thing we much neglected in our previous trips was pipelining. Internet girls are so grotty that it doesn’t seem worth the bother. Not when the daytime streets are properly infested with cute clean-limbed little slavic sweeties.

But now that JJ figured out a way to pipeline while getting lulz at the same time we figured we’d sit in a cafe for a few hours and see what we can rustle up. I fire off twenty messages to girls in our target city. My only rule is they have to be hot enough that I’d open them in a bar (which is below my street-open threshold). They are much like this:

Different bird, but same calibre

Girl A: Tall 19yr old brunette

Me: Your picture scares my dog. He’s hiding behind the sofa, whimpering. That’s really mean of you. You should apologise to him.

Her: I don’t necesarily apologise, unfortunatly I’m not a fan of dogs! But I may find the resistance.

Me: You’re a crazy cat lady???? Oh no, someone pass my umbrella, I need to chase you away. Nice hair. Very feminine. Cute. I have an electrified fence. Don’t chance it.

Her: I guess I am or on the path to become one… I only have one cat for now and he is already a little much. Thanks 🙂 My name is [name].

Me: [her name]? I have no idea how to pronounce that. I’m Nick. I’ll be arriving in [city]tomorrow, then coming up to [her city] after a few days. Where do you recommend? I’m looking for a cool bar which foreigners rarely find.

Her: Come visit me at work 🙂

Me: Where? I hope you work at a sausage shop, and can give me free sausages

Her: 😦 No I work at a pub, its not necessarily cool but ill be there and i guess i could bring some sausages to work

Me: nom nom nom Great! I like you now.

So that one looks promising and she’s certainly worth spending a few hours of a date to get a closer look. By her photos she looks a solid eight and not at all mental.

Girl B: Artsy 23yr old brunette

Me: You sound crazy. Totally bat-shit crazy. I like your hair. Cute, feminine. Weirdo

Her: Meowww

Me: Oh, you’re in big trouble now, girl

Her: I’m a dragon. nice to meet you 🙂

Me: I slay dragons. I’m a dragon-slayer. I’m just going to go put on my armour and mount my horse, pick up my lance, and come slay you. Maybe rescue a fair maiden when I’m finished

Her: boo!

Me: .

Her: HAHAHAHA xD I’ve survived slayers before, I’ll survive you. 🙂

Me: I’ll be in [her city] from tomorrow. Which bar do you recommend? Somewhere tourists don’t usually find.

Her: We dragons hang out in parks 😛 but yeah, I don’t know, the clubs are all listed online and the popular bars too 🙂 and I’m the wors person you can ask that question I just started going out myself 🙂

Again this one looks likely to progress to a date and she seems fun. This pseudo-trolling method filters out girls who are no fun.

Acceptable

Girl C: Bisexual 23yr old brunette

Me: [her city] won’t be big enough for the both of us. I’m gonna run you out of town, and the donkey you rode in on. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Her: Me and my pinata donkey will never surrender. Never! :dramatically whips her hair:

Me: You shouldn’t rob that bank [reference to her profile]. Being a girl, you’ll get confused, scared, and make a mess of it. I’ll be the sheriff who arrests you

Her: Years of watching Dexter taught me some things. I think I’d be cool as a blade. Boris the blade. :l But yeah, I certainly shouldn’t do it while I’m pms-ing. Ok. Just don’t sentence me to death by hanging. Ugh.

Me: You don’t belong on the plains. You should be in the kitchen. Cooking roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Mmmmm….. gravy…..

Again another bird who knows how to banter and might be fun. I’ve got seven similar conversations ongoing from my first twenty messages and I wouldn’t place any of the girls below a low-7. If anything comes of it, I’ll update.

Date-game fail

March 12, 2012
krauserpua

While out at the Riverside Bar in Thailand, Bhodi and I were witness to perhaps the worst date-game we’ve seen all year. A textbook case of how to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. While it’s bad form to mock the misfortune of others, I was able to snap off some video for my readers’ edification. If the poor subject of this post finds it, consider it a free consultation.

We were watching the live band when a cute little island girl stood a few feet in front wearing a nice dotted top. Although no higher than a seven she was exactly my type so I paid some attention to size her up and consider an open. Perhaps I should observe her a while longer because she’s waiting in front of the gents toilets so I figured probably waiting for her boyfriend. Sure enough, five minutes later a European guy came over with her drink, said something and then leaned in to give her a no-tongues kiss on the lips. Ok, so I won’t be opening her I think, and quickly size up the guy.

  • Ingratiating smile and pleading eyes
  • Bad haircut that accentuates both the balding and the nerdiness
  • Cookie-cutter herb dress sense

My initial thought is “well done” on getting a fairly hot bird despite these drawbacks. But then this starts……

Fuck. Me.

I simply cannot have any sympathy for a man who hands his balls over like that. He’s already lost the lay because several times the girl throws us embarrassed glances. She just wants this to end as soon as possible. He had enough smarts to realise the dancefloor escalation is failing after he leans in three times to kiss her and in each case she keeps her head flat against the post she’s leaning on and presses her lips tight together. So he leads her out onto the patio tables and to the quietest darkest corner he can find.

We get to watch over the balcony as he sits facing her and leaning in while she faces away. I hypothesise to Bhodi: “they look like they are on a first date but he’s already been able to get some light kisses on her lips. I’m guessing they met in a club a few days ago and had a drunken makeout. None of the other kino is there.” It’s obvious he hasn’t banged her. He’s dripping with neediness while she is playing gatekeeper.

Ten minutes later he pulls her up to try to ballroom dance to a slower song and again she looks helplessly up at us as we are cracking up with lulz. Poor guy. She got colder and colder and colder. By then it was 1am and we had better things to do.

Announcing the launch of Count Cervantes

March 8, 2012
krauserpua

A common pattern throughout my life has been the three-year cycle. Pretty much any activity or hobby that takes my interest will burn brightly for something like three years and then I tire of it and move on. University, banking, living in Japan, Brazilian Ju Jitsu, economics, playing in a band…. they all peaked around the second year and by the end of the third I was thoroughly bored, casting around for the next adventure.

So it is with pick up

I am rapidly approaching the third anniversary of my first ever cold approach. Regular readers will have noted how enthusiastically I threw myself into the pick up lifestyle and also recently how I’ve slowed down alot. I’ve probably done about 10 daygame approaches in 2012. Tops. My pick up identity tires me. It no longer takes me in the direction I wish to go. I’ve seen enough people trapped in the community long after they should’ve left.

This is not to deny Game. It works. I’ve met, befriended, and banged women far better and far more often than I could’ve hoped to without Game. But while I will continue to study, refine and use Game I will be moving in new directions. What is Hell? It is running around like a blue-arsed fly street-stopping 30 girls every weekend for ten years. Fun for a while (even necessary) but ultimately tiring.

You didn't think I meant the Don Quixote guy?

For six months I’ve been casting around for the next step. How do I continue to learn and build on the Game I’ve acquired these past three years yet still keep it fresh and exciting for myself? I realised that having already made significant progress with the technical side of in-set game, and having sorted most of my inner game, the next step is to spread my wings and live the lifestyle I most enjoy.

Thus I introduce you to my new blog – Count Cervantes.

I won’t pre-frame it any further. Check out a few posts and see what you think. Krauser will continue as normal with it’s usual focus on pickup, infields and game theory. I’ve got no plans to wind it down. However the forward thrust to my life will be on Count Cervantes. That’s where my passion now lies.

You’re only as old as the woman you feel

March 7, 2012
krauserpua

For much of my youth I was puzzled by the attitudes towards ageing that people around me adopted. Generally, people’s future time orientation and expectations of ageing were both unabashedly low to the point they assumed getting “old” (basically 50+) was inevitable, shitty, and totally out of your locus of control. I never agreed.

My great uncle Tommy died last year aged 85. It came suddenly over the course of less than a year, as his hearing went, he became confused, and he suddenly lost alot of weight. A fairly unpleasant final year of life although he was only bedridden for about a month of it. However, the preceding 84 years were full of world-travelling and activity. A keen mountaneer and cyclist in his younger days, Tommy continued to cycle up and down country hills 20 miles a day, several times a week, into his eighties. He was slim without being skinny. And until that final year was also mentally alert.

Mature at middle age

Old at middle age

In short, as an 80-year old man his general fitness, alertness, and overall quality of life was higher than most 30 year olds. These days it’s common to assume that physical degeneration sets in from thirty (back pain, aches, weight gain) and accelerates through middle age (sendatry hobbies) until by age 60 you’re hobbling around with bad knees and piss-stained trousers. Fuck no.

I expect the final 20 years of my life to be as high quality as any other 20-year section. My death will be preceded by a short rapid unravelling rather than multi-decade degeneration. Bad luck aside (e.g. cancer, stroke, accident), that is. I will not abuse myself in my 30s and thus compromise my 60s and 70s.

Generally, ageing is an opportunity. It is time you can invest in making yourself a better man. This was brought into stark relief for me a few days ago when I was in a restaurant in Thailand and noticed to men of similar age on adjacent tables who were light years apart in how they’d handled ageing. Guy A was cool as fuck. Guy B was a shambling schlub. So I snapped off a quick video on my phone. Apologies for the low res.

Note the following:

      • Guy A has maintained a solid trim physique with well-proportioned lean muscles whereas Guy B has let himself get doughy skin, stooped shoulders and gone to fat.
      • Guy A dresses with style and good accessorisation while Guy B covered himself in superglue and ran through Primark, looking generic and plain.
      • Guy A holds strong posture with slow decisive movements and his lean-in towards his girl is interested without neediness. Guy B is sloppy and leans in from weakness.
      • Guy A had a hot (I’d rate her high-7) young local girl who spoke good english, no tattoos, and an all-round nice girl look to her. She was most certainly not a bar girl. She spent the whole of the meal listening intently to her man and giving of soft female vibe. Guy B had a middle-aged emancipated woman with dowdy clothes and haircut and an air of uneasy equality between them as he ran every decision past her. Twenty years ago, she’d have still been no competition for the other girl.

You can look at a middle-aged man and know if he’s capable of dating young girls without artificial props and ruining his own life.

Narcissism and codependency in the PUA/HB dynamic

March 3, 2012
krauserpua

I believe Game is a journey, one in which you initially stumble blindly unaware of where the starting line is. You go from the blissfully-unaware AFC to suddenly peeking under the curtain and realising that success with women is a skill that can be learned like any other, and there is a vast wealth of resources available to help you. Many men (such as myself) believe they’ve found the starting line and off they go.

The problem is, you’re not running down the yellow brick road, you’re just spinning on a sophisticated hamster wheel and getting nowhere fast. Eventually, if you’re lucky and have access to the right resources, you’ll tumble to the old saw that the pickup community is just the self-help community in disguise. That should motivate you to fix the real causes of your self-worth problems and personality defects rather than the symptoms (“I can’t get laid”).

Project Hollywood, yesterday

Some people never make that leap. They persist in an never-ending cycle of diminishing returns in the quest to perfect their Game. Just do another 1,000 sets. Just polish off that routine. Just read more Game books. They become shameless pussy-hounds craving the pop of the next sexual conquest. They pour ever more water into the leaky bucket. I’ve discussed this in detail in my Creeping Death posts.

Well, while I may be a narcissist I am not unable to recognise when someone hits the nail on the head more accurately than I do. The Rawness has just written a masterpiece. Read it. I’ll pull out the sections that interest me most and comment.

His fundamental point is that Game (or more specifically the PUA lifestyle) can worsen a man’s self-worth issues by misleading him to attack the symptoms of his issues while the causes continue to worsen. The PUA lifestyle and the type of Game it encourages will exacerbate the problem by screening good people out of your life while attracting bad people. At some point it comes crashing down.

The PUA-HB dynamic is that of a codependent-narcissist. As an AFC people-pleaser you employ ineffective manipulative Nice Guy behaviours to get girls. Game replaces these with effective manipulative Asshole/Alpha behaviours that draw you into the dance of wounded souls. The PUA becomes a Compensatory Narcissist in that he models and copies the actions of a true narcissist (e.g. aloofness, assholery) without feeling it in his core. This leads to three types of interaction

      • PUA-(victim)HB: The player manipulates and exploits low self-worth codependent women who need him to lean on, primarily by teasing and withholding validation through push-pull. He despises the weakness of these women and tires of them.
      • PUA-(predator)HB: The player meets a more skilled narcissist than himself and is drawn into her web of tests, in which his increasing competence of passing intrigues her and gives her narcissistic supply until eventually she tires of him and dumps him, usually before sex.
      • PUA-(normal)HB: The girl isn’t responsive to his games because she is not unusually needy of validation or narcissistic supply. By his refusal to be normal, she is exasperated by him and tired while for his part he finds she is not responding as his script dictates so he becomes frustrated. The relationship never progresses and thus he blows his chance to have a nice person in his life.

Thus the PUA is gradually channelled into a lifestyle that involves gamey dances with a subset of emotionally damaged women as he tries to extract sex and affection from her while she tries to extract attention and validation from him. Rarely does a balanced mutually-affirming sexual relationship ensue. This is the case whether the PUA is angling for SNLs in nightclubs or bouncebacks in street game. I know guys commited to both lifestyles. It’s not pretty. Rawness calls such men grandiosity sharks.

“grandiosity sharks are people who have to keep swimming through a sea of external validation in order to breathe and stay afloat, because much like the shark can’t breathe internally, they can’t generate validation and self-esteem internally. If they stop moving through the sea of validation for a given amount of time, or their swimming is temporarily disrupted due to a blow to their ego, they figuratively suffocate, sink to the bottom and die.”

It would be nice if the pussy-hound lifestyle was merely papering over the cracks of self-worth but Rawness suggests it’s more like swallowing the cat to catch the mouse:

“Pickup artistry does not fix the codependent; it just changes him from a codependent into a narcissist by ignoring the core issues and instead training him to switch from the faulty coping strategy of surrender to the preferred faulty coping strategy of the narcissist, which is overcompensation. It’s just trading one toxic personality dysfunction for a worse, harder-to-cure toxic personality dysfunction.”

I have spoken before about what I termed the two types of Game – light side and dark side. It springs from the matrix of male/female personality types. Recall that there are four types of man according to their combination of competence and confidence:

      • Type 1: Both confident and competent. These are the solid self-actualised males who have their life together, have genuine skills they employ, balanced personalities and a sense of direction. It’s George Clooney or Cary Grant.
      • Type 2: Confident but incompetent. These are the chancers and showboats in life who usually drift aimlessly but maintain the veneer of charm and charisma (because real confidence can never be delusional, it must rest upon competence) and have an exaggerated narcissistic self-regard. They are the tattooed bar tenders, rock guitarists and drug dealers of the world.
      • Type 3: Competent but lacking confidence. This is the vast sea of beta males who hold down steady office jobs, watch Lost and Prison Break, dress in GAP or Next and are utterly indistinguishable from each other (to the female eye). Generally they are decent people and it’s their taxes that support the femo-centric world.
      • Type 4: Neither competent nor confident. They are the dregs of society. Barely-employed, out of shape, lacking social skills, these are the omega / delta males whom society has left behind. They retreat into solo hobbies or fringe weirdo collectives (e.g. ComicCon).

The female typology is based on beauty and self esteem. So type 1 women have both, type 2 women have beauty but low self esteem. I made the point that in the normal order of affairs men and women of equal rank pair off, i.e. type 1 men pair with type 1 women. A pairing of one rank’s mismatch (e.g. type 1 man with type 2 woman) can initiate but is doomed to failure. A two-rank disparity would only happen if there were severe outside influence such as drugs, alcohol or a solemn obligation to a dear friend.

Where this intersects with the Rawness essay is that he is essentially talking about Type 2 Male – Type 2 Female pairings where the man’s fragile confidence is manufactured by painting a faux-narcissistic facade over a codependent core and the competence issues are not addressed either. The female is leveraging her beauty but lacks a sense of deservedness and thus has a constant lean-towards that the PUA can exploit by using push-pull to prop her up with validation / attention and then take away to send her back off balance.

To say these pairings are unhealthy is an understatement. Rawness also nicely explains the PUA obsession with strippers and hired guns:

“By the way, I want to point out that stripping and sex work in general are profession that attracts a HUGELY disproprortionate amount of narcissists and borderline personality disorder sufferers, which lends credence to my theory that becoming a PUA often just makes one into a sophisticated form of codependent, because why else would these guys keep being drawn to strippers and pornstars, who can be some of the most severely personality-disordered people out there?”

I have long maintained that the successful attitude towards learning Game, the actual starting line you should begin your journey from, is to develop yourself into a Type 1 man (Rawness calls this the Renaissance Man rather than Alpha) and then learn how to identify and attract Type 1 women using Game which is merely a conduit of your character and leveraging your understanding of female psychology and the mating ritual. You should avoid the Type 2 / Type 2 dance of the wounded souls. The only way to win that game is to avoid playing.

I might come back to his piece with more comments. It really is a blinder and I urge you to read it.

The chode hop

February 28, 2012
krauserpua

A beta male believes women are the prize whereas the man must simply try his best then hope for the best. This is a qualifying frame of mind. It encourages the man to act up in showy ways to prove he’s good enough for the princess’s delectation. Watch the men around you and they are positively dripping in attempts to qualify, some obvious, some less so. For example:

      • “I studied hard at school, worked hard, and now I have a six-figure salary and minor status increments within my corporate hierarchy” I can provide for you
      • “I read men’s fashion magazines and choose expensive clothes that are in season” I can look good for you
      • “I work out at the gym and deny myself many pleasures in food and alcohol so that I can have a stacked body” I can protect you

These are not in themselves bad things, they are merely the mark of a higher beta – the man who has the same beta heart as every other male but he does the beta thing with more drive, passion and competence than the others. Head nerd. Higher betas do get laid, just not as much as they’d expect from the vast amount of sacrifice they endure. If I had a daughter, I’d encourage her to marry a higher beta.

ye olde chode hop, yesteryear

Zooming in from the life-time trajectory qualification towards the in-a-bar-at-night qualification we get the curious case that here at RSG we call the “chode hop“. It goes like this:

  • Man is standing motionless by himself or on fringes of his group, value scanning the room for girls
  • Girl somewhere gives him a scrap of attention such as a quick glance or walks near him
  • Man immediately breaks out into awkward bopping dance out of time to the music
  • Girl is no longer noticing him
  • Man immediately stops dancing and takes a slug of his beer to smooth out the awkwardness

You will see this so often in so many bars. Somestimes its just a subtle bobbing head and side-stepping feet, other times its full-on like the tool in the above video. Before long you can predict it and give a 3…2…1…. countdown. On a more abstract level the chode hop encompasses all short-form qualification displays from men that are reactive to a woman’s fleeting attention and which end as soon as the attention has gone.

It is awful qualifying behaviour. If in doubt, stay still.

Daygame Nitro – Cheap Paperback Edition

February 26, 2012
krauserpua

I’ll admit it. I’m greedy.

When I released Daygame Nitro in May of last year it was the only daygame book worth reading. It’s still the best, but I’m a narcissist so you’d expect me to say that. My book is aimed at guys who can already do a bit of game and thus dives straight into the advanced material. Other guys cater to beginners and that’s fine. I devoted one chapter to “beginners daygame” and no more.

Perfection, yesterday

My method is designed to get girls who are younger and hotter than you are, then make them fall for you hard. That’s not an easy task. It requires real technical nous and an unshakeably strong frame. Daygame Nitro explains precisely how to acquire it. This is the most technically deep daygame material there is.

Everything is laid out in specifics. I use sample openers, sample stacks, sample conversations. I then explain the principles behind them so you can create your own on the fly. Combine this book with the dozens of free videos already on my blog and you have all you need to start knobbing hot young fillies.

That’s why for it’s first year of release I set the bar high at $70. If you’re serious about getting good, serious about putting in hundreds of approaches, then $70 is a pittance.

My loot

So for a year I’ve counted my loot and sat atop my pile of gold, cackling madly. Perhaps it’s to restore my karma, perhaps it’s a moment of madness but now I’ve cut my prices and even, in my boundless magnificence, released a cheap paperback edition. The content remains exactly the same. So, dear readers I offer you two choices:

Daygame Nitro Hardback – $50

Daygame Nitro Paperback – $20

Knock yourselves out. This won’t last forever.

I bang my first Thai massage parlour manager

February 21, 2012
krauserpua

I wake up bright and early with the newly acquired F-town dogtags around my neck. Life is good. The bright welcome sounds of my laptop greet me as I check my mail. Oh dear, Robusto has stolen the title while I slept, the sneaky fat aussie cunt. The sky suddenly darkens outside.

Later in the evening I come back from muay thai training with Bhodi and we turn our scooters into the final approach home. There’s a small massage parlour so I park up and decide to get the kinks of training kneaded out of my muscles to avoid tomorrow’s aches. Bhodi says “there’s a nice bird works there.” Indeed there is. It’s 11pm and an early 30s slightly MILFy bird is starting to close up shop, alone. I enquire whether there’s time for a massage and she assents.

Note at this moment I have zero intent. It’s not even on my mind. I’ve been having massages every night after training so this is just more of the same.

What my friends think I got

For the first half hour I recline on the futon with my eyes shut and don’t say a word. The woman busies herself digging thumbs into pressure points and grinding her elbow against my muscles. Maybe I’m kidding myself but my spider-sense is tingling. Something about her manner isn’t quite right. She seems to be putting too much of her body into contact with mine. It’s not sexual but it’s vaguely sensual. I pay it little mind. She starts to make light conversation which I reciprocate. Then towards the last ten minutes we are talking more so I drop in light DHVs reflexively. She compliments me on my “strong shoulders”. Hmmmmm.

She finishes and I’m still thinking nothing of it. It’s midnight and we’re both tired. She sits down on a futon next to me and makes small talk. I’m reading her for IODs to see if she signals me to leave so she can close up shop but they never come. So I put a calm vibe on her and gradually take control of the conversation. Before long she’s showing me photos of her family and saying she’ll sleep in the parlour tonight because her house is 40km away. It’s never awkward but it’s all inappropriate for a customer-client frame. Something is afoot.

What the internet thinks I got

So I escalate slightly by giving her a light shoulder massage. Then I suggest showing her my puppies my photos on my laptop at my room (less than 100m away). Thus begins a pattern of two-steps-forwards-one-step-back that continues for the next hour. She initially demurs then agrees, then as I put my shoes on and start going she demurs again before following five minutes later. At my room she sits on the corner of the bed while I put on facebook and spotify. I know she’s up for it but clearly wanting to be pressed so that she can tell herself it “just happened”.

After ten minutes in my room she rebuffs the first two kisses in a half-arsed display of chastity then takes the third. I’ve long since figured out how she wants to be seduced so I just move it along gently but firmly until she’s rubbing my cock and I know it’s a done deal. She’s a decent lay. Then she excuses herself and walks back to her shop. I don’t even pay for the massage.

What I felt I was getting

I fire off an email to Robusto to request he unburden himself of the tags which he no longer has a right to wear.

This lay is what I would call a “George”, after my new Greek buddy who has stacked his adulthood with over a hundred such lays. There was no game per se. I just went on with my business and allowed my spider-sense to pick up signals when a girl was in the right mood at the right time. Then I just laid my vibe on her, relaxed, and gently moved it forwards. Every one of you probably has twenty of these experiences where you failed to spot the signals and thus nothing happened. And this is an unexpected reward of following the game route – you pick up such good calibration in the process of opening thousands of girls that when a lay just walks right up to you, you are able to spot it and let it happen.

Add ten years and you have her double

Learning points

    • Be aware of the signals around you that girls give off. You might not be on the pull, but she might be horny and into you.
    • When you meet the right girl in the right mood, you just have to let the lay happen
    • This was two hours from meet to lay, including one hour for the massage. Don’t be psyched out when things move fast. As this one built up speed I was thinking “whoa, is it really falling into my lap so easily?” I could’ve fucked it up if I’d stuck too close to my model on what should happen.

I bang my first Thai village girl

February 19, 2012
krauserpua

Sometimes getting laid is astonishingly easy. This one was three hours from meet to sex but to be fair I still followed the model to eliminate unnecessary fuck ups on what was basically a slamdunk. It all begins when I decide to try pipelining ahead of my visit to Thailand. Robusto and JJ are dab hands at online game, so much so they should probably write a book on it, so I just plaguarise the fat man’s profile and copy JJ’s message principle of “push-pull-push”. With less than three hours since sign-up I’m pinging messages with a dozen ladies.

The cream of asia, yesterday

Now lets be straight, these ladies are not the cream of Asia. While not as old and hideous as an English website, the girls are firmly clustered around the 5-7 band but as we well know an Asian seven is often very very pleasant company. I move a few of the girls over to my facebook and Skype. There’s tons of filipinos (which is little use to me) but I add them too to experiment with hassling ’em for naked photos. Here’s the full set of messages of the bird I banged:

Me: Hey sweetie. I’m headed to [thai city] next week and I’ll be making new friends. I have a vacancy for a fun, crazy, cute local girl to laugh at my jokes and show me the city. I wonder where I could find one….. [Robusto-style so far]

Her: you have to try…. everywhere…i dont know… i can’t find guy like that either.. they’re somewhere

Me: Real men are very rare. Like pandas or tigers. What is your ideal man?

Her: someone honest,clever and always make me laugh

Me: I’m boring. I’m the most boring man in the world. I like your hair in your photo. I’m very boring. When I talk, you will fall asleep. [JJ-style of push-pull-push]

Her: you might not be so boring but the fact that you repeat saying you’re boring so many times. that’s boring

Me: ****** logic paradox ****** weird girl I like your hairband too. I don’t like your bed sheet [push-pull-push]

Her: weird man that’s not bed sheet, it’s bedspread. I like your jacket but I dont like your hat.

Me: That hat cost me $5,000. Well, no it didn’t. That’s a lie. What are you doing right now?

Her: I’m working but sneak chatting. if you mean occupation.. it’s bloody[boring office] company

Me: BOOOOOORRRRRINGGGG!!!!! You need excitement. Are you adventurous?

Her: thanks for telling me that my job is boring. it really helps. I am more adventurous than you can imagine.

Me: I don’t believe you. I think you work all day and watch TV all evening. I think the most adventurous thing you ever did was to kiss a guy in a bar. Once. You look like a fun girl

Her: you’re pathetic.. listen to your attitude. i bet all girls you have met are as boring as you just describe me, and i bet you’ll never find anyone more adventurous than that.

Me: It’s unfortunate. Maybe I just have bad luck in Thailand. In London, the girls I meet are all fun, interesting, energetic and beautiful. Maybe my luck in London is good. Are you really 159cm?

Her: maybe 158 i’m not sure. and me, i have bad luck too… all boys i meet here are boring.

Me: Do you have facebook in Thailand?

Her: where have you been dinosaur? facebook is eveywhere now.

Me: I thought so, but the only Thais I know I met in London and Tokyo. Search [my email] and add me

So she comes over to facebook where all my profile DHVs can hit and I can get a better look to see if her dating site photo is backed up by reality. Yeah, she’s quite cute. So I proceed to have a few ten-minute half-arsed chats to bed down some comfort and be more real. We exchange numbers and then a few days after I touch down in Thailand we meet on Saturday evening.

Closer to reality

I tell her it’s fine to bring friends because I’m out with Bhodi. She comes alone on her scooter and from there it’s child’s play. We’re in a lounge bar supping Singha beer and for twenty minutes Bhodi and I just frame-control the shit out of her until she is entrenched in a submissive, inferior feminine position – which she loves, I might add. It’s obvious she’s never seen anything like it. Push-pull, DHVs, chick crack, douchbaggery, it’s all in there. As we finish our drinks and go to the club next door I know all the attraction and qualification is done. I simply need enough comfort and then test some escalation.

Bhodi heads home with a chest infection he picked up in muay thai class while I move my girl from the edge of the dancefloor to a sofa outside. I do very light kino which she accepts and then drop in sexualisation.

Her: What do you like to do in life?

Me: First, I like fighting. Second is sleeping. Then eating. Then reading. Fifth is sex, then videogames.

Her: Sex is only fifth?

Me: No no, sorry. Videogames is fifth, then sex.

A bit later I qualify her on blowjob technique. She says she’s great at it because some ladyboy gave her secret tips. I do a push-away with: “Two things that all girls say they are good at is kissing and blowjobs. It’s never true. I’ve been disappointed so many times.” Predictably she paws me and qualifies: “No, no. Really, I give excellent blowjobs!”

The rook moves to H7. Check.

I tell her we’re going for a walk and start leading in the direction of my apartment and I occupy her forebrain with bullshit until the momentum is rolling. She has a great round ass so I compliment her on it, pick her up over my shoulder and slap it. She’s loving it.

The knight advances. Black is in danger.

We get to my apartment building ten minutes later. “I’m not going to your room” she half-heartedly protests. “It’s just for ten minutes” and up we go. Once inside I put on spotify and chill. “We’re not having sex” she protests. “That’s fine. Just show me some youtube music you like.”

Checkmate

Five minutes later she is demonstrating her blowjob skills. Ten minutes later I have F-town. When I give her a ride back to her scooter she’s singing sweet love songs. Cute. I’ll see her again.

Postscript: Although I go to bed with the F-town tags around my neck, which I swear make me sleep deeper and dream better, Robusto lacks the class and character to allow me to enjoy my acheivement. Way over in Mexico he rushes out to the street and brings a runt home to regain his tags.

Drunken douchebag text game is fun

February 11, 2012
krauserpua

I’m out on Friday night with three old uni friends I haven’t seen since before Christmas. There are already a bit monged on champagne before I roll in at 9:30 but we have a good chat about normal men’s things. After a couple drinks we roll on to an Islington bar with a meat market vibe. The male/female ratio is about even so there’s a bunch of 5, 6s and 7s shaking their asses and waving their arms on the dancefloor while nervous-looking young professional guys try to come onto them. For all it’s fascinating people-watching potential I’m just focused on my continued inebriation. I find myself propped up against the bar opening three different girls who order drinks next to me. The last one hooks well.

Peering through my beer-goggles, she looked like this

I’m a douchebag. The whole pick-up is on auto pilot where I’m dimly aware of the model I’m following but it’s never at the front of my mind. I insult her alot in the first five minutes but it’s all smirky-asshole stuff that she likes. So she plants herself next to me and allows it all to happen. The next hour is a blur. I know I remain rooted to the same spot without moving while she does a couple of takeaways (the effect of which is nil, because I can see her staring at me from across the room the whole time). Her bolshy little friend comes over twice to evaluate me, the first time she’s friendly the second time there’s bluster: “Did you just tell my friend you wanted to fuck her in the ass and spit on her hair?”

Easily dealt with and she leaves us to it. By the thirty-minute mark she’s doing a full-body press against me and subtle grinding of her pussy against my legs, kissing, and grabbing my cock. I flip between outrageous dirty-talk, douchebag push-aways, and feigned naivety. I put it at 70/30 that I can SNL her but at crunchtime little Bolshy comes back with her gang and drags her away: “Take his number and we’re leaving”. Nothing I can do. Bolshy is clearly mother hen.

Bolshy is the one on the right

I’m so drunk I scoff a Big Mac (my first ever) and pay £30 for a taxi home rather than find a nightbus. As I’m eating, I start up the text game. Note she’s an English girl (remember, the type my game “doesn’t work on”) so I’m able to use the full nuance of my language:

Me: Is your leopard-printed pointy-fingered (but kinda cute) friend still angry and pointy? [frame the cockblock for what she was, but without being resentful]

Her: Hehehehehe, nah it’s cool, we’re at another bar right now… They like this one better 🙂 are there any other gals or guys you’d like to fuck in the ass over in Angel? Be honest 😀 [she’s still turned on, and still loved the anal sex idea and my outrageousness]

Me: Fucking loads of ’em. You’ve slipped to 13th place in the queue. [douchebag push]

Me: Which, technically, makes you unlucky. My apologies… still like your smell, though [I’m the prize. Push-pull]

Her: Hehe 🙂 [reward]

Her: Is this you trying to be smooth? [banter]

Her: It’s kinda funny 😛 [shit test]

Me: Sorry. I’m terrible with girls. I hope you don’t bust me for being a virgin. [agree and amplify]

Me: Pretend you never read that [feigned naivity and confusion]

Me: So… um… what do you think of Greece’s continued membership in the euro? [de-escalate in tongue-and-cheek manner, drop in implicit contrast game that I’m not just a sexually aggressive douchebag but I’m also educated]

Her: Haaaahaaaa… I knew you were a virgin, I could smell it on your neck, taste it on your lips and feel it on your dick 😉 [playing along, getting herself off on remembering me sexually]

Her: And I think the euro is ridiculous 😛 [a knowing wink at what I was doing]

Me: It was the hover-hand wasn’t it? [keep going with the thread]

Me: I knew it! I should’ve just collected my courage and put my finger up your chuff [feigned cowardice and regret, in contrast to what she knows was strong bold intent]

Me: Then my thumb

Her: Haaaahahaaa! It’s like Fort Knox down there… It wouldn’t have ever happened! But Ilike the visuals your descriptions are providing 🙂 [She’d told me she hadn’t had sex since April 2011]

Her: You’re not bad for a 42 yr old! [callback humour to a game we played, she’s rapport seeking and obliquely IOIing]

Me: If you knew what your imaginary self was doing to my imaginary cock right now, you’d get a touch of the vapours. [blame her for the sexual escalation]

Her: Oh you’ve got a dirty lil mind. [approval]

Me: I’m innocent. It’s your slutty imaginary self taking advantage of me. I’m almost shocked. [feigned naivity, position her as seducing me]

Me: Almost

Her: You kinda called me a slut… I should be offended

Her: Should [girls love being slutty about sex when given permission]

Me: You scandalise me. Stop talking about sex. There will be no more talk about my rock hard dick invading your sweet little pussy. None of that talk at all. [push-pull]

Her: So… um… what do you think of Greece’s continued membership in the euro? 😛 [callback humour, rapport-seeking, signalling a willingness to follow my lead]

Me: Referendum, default on the debt, return to the drachma… and “go greek” on the next hot bird dumb enough to put her ass within banging distance of my dick. [contrast game]

Me: Should I spell out who that bird is, or can I rely on your social acuity to start getting wet on the intimation? [assumed the sale on her being wet for me]

Her: No no… No need as I got that from the moment I laid eyes on you… And you made me quite wet earlier on, I’m still kinda wet… But not as wet 🙂 so I will have to rely on my imagination it seems [reliving the moment to extend her pussy tingle]

Her: I have an amazing imagination!!!! [qualification]

So this was an SNL candidate that never quite got there. Not sure if I’ll see her again. I’ll be leaving the country again soon and I suspect the escalation went past the point of no return regarding buyers remorse. We’ll see.