It was the height of summer. London was thronged with tourists and me and Nick had whiled away a few pleasant hours on a Sunday sauntering through the parks and tourists sights, chatting to a number of particularly attractive younger ladies.
The day was drawing to a close and we were in Trafalgar Square. I was sitting on one of the fountains, laughing at Korean tourists trying to take selfies. Hustle and bustle everywhere. Gaggles of giggling wop tourists, all with skinny legs and wearing Converse. Street performers. Throngs of people. Sunny. Wonderful for daygame. I spot a girl over to the side by the steps. This is what I immediately notice:
- She’s well under 30, hot and slim
- She’s dressed in a slightly unusal crochet-style sort of middle eastern skirt
- She has a wheelie suitcase with her
- She’s clumsily trying to take selfies with her ipad
Perfect. I wander over and she catches my eye.
“Please tell me you are not trying to take a selfie of yourself with a gigantic blue cock in the background are you?”
Note: for the sake of modern art there’s actually a statue of a gigantic blue cock on the empty plinth in Trafalgar Square. Ellsworth Toohey would be proud.
She giggles and admits she is. I quickly follow up:
“Your skirt’s unusual, kind of Turkish style, makes me think of those Arabian nights stories”.
She looks quite flattered and jabbers something. I hear she’s American and I see she has
This is good. I start to make small talk and she immediately busts me as a PUA
Her: Haaaannng on… you’re like talkin to me just here? are you like one of those pickup guys ya know?
Me: God no. But I know some guys that do that. I’ve read The Game though. I think everyone has
Her: Yeah I have. My ex boyfriend was a PUA
[I rejoice at her mentioning an ‘ex’]
Her: yeah he did all that stuff. That’s how he got me. Well we kind of split up.. that’s kind of why I’m here.. just to get some time
I try not to come in my pants with excitement. She may as well hold a sign saying “need a random fuck”. We chat a bit more and I notice Nick skulking nearby, ear-wigging it all. Something starts to go wrong. I feel it. The set just starts to feel ropey. I feel like the ground is shifting under my feet. In hindsight I realize two things happened. Firstly my entitlement took a flutter half way and I started to have feelings of self doubt about my entitlement to such a hot girl and what I was doing. Secondly I believe her spidey-sense picked up on this with my subcommunication and she started to flip the script on me. Before I knew it SHE was asking ME questions and I was answering them. It was a horrible feeling. It can happen as easy as pie, all it takes is a gobby Anglosphere girl:
Me: So.. you’re from X?
French girl: Yes.. it is very beautiful
[waits for man to take control]
Me: So.. you’re from X?
This set: Yeah! Well Jersey actually. Have you been?
Me: No, but I went to New York
Her: Oh, did you like it? Did you stay in Manhattan?
You see how easy you can lose the frame? Never lose the frame.
As I said, I felt something going wrong but I’d also done a lot right. I decided to cash in my chips, hope I’d done enough work already and then bail. I outright re-spike by telling her she’s cute and saying I want to take her for a drink during the week. She agrees but mentions she is ‘with a friend’… ugh… date-kryptonite. She then even starts thinking aloud whether I can come out with her and her friend that very night, if I can find a double-date for her friend. This sound juicy and I’m most pleased. It sounds like a classic holiday-slut double date fuck fest.
I number-close and thank god she has a UK sim. As she totters off Nick drifts over. ‘She flipped the script’ he says straight away. I tell him it’s a strong lead and we’re up for a double date but then with despair realize he already has a date booked in for that night and there’s nobody else I can get to wing me. I can’t go solo tonight: it would be pointless and I’d lose value. I’d rather just not go than be a dancing, drinks-buying monkey. Shudder…
From then on my objective is to simply get her on a date on her own and try and SNL her. I’d probed logistics during the set and it all looked good:
- She’s American and fancied me
- She’s on the rebound
- She’s here for one week
- She’s dappy (i.e. a moron)
- She has whore eyes
It’d have to be SNL as I simply didn’t have time for more dates. It had been a fairly early set so I send the feeler that same evening:
Hey cool to meet you earlier… hope yr having a fun night. j
Having dinner now, then we’re hopgin to hit a pub or three ;p where are you, did your friend join you?
Hey sorry change of plans, can’t make it… have a great night… don’ get too drunk!
[turn down the date. shows non-neediness]
awww ok, enjoy your night… maybe we can meet up for drinks during the week 🙂
[and produces a swift reply and a counter-offer. good]
I’m eating a massive steak drenched in gravy… how r u?
[Re-initiate the text game. The steak stuff sounds alpha]
just left big ben & westminster etc. I’m in trafalgar sq now:)
Could do a beer tomorrow night if you know any Jersey girls that can hold their drink?
[no need to fuck about, straight to date invite]
I think I may know just the right girl lol… I will hang out in camden soon
[agrees and covertly asks me to come to meet her in camden. she seems determined to get fucked on this holiday. i weigh the odds of her meeting a guy with enough game to do it versus me apocalypically losing value by taxiing out to camden past midnight and decide not to. thus i just snip and leave it.]
Camden eh! Anyone tried to sell you meth yet?
[humorous re-initiation. i do NOT try to set up the date immediately]
Haha one can only hope (not) I’m at the savoy right now actually, drinking the best absinthe of my life
Hey trouble what did u do to the weather?!;-( Nevermind.. let’s get that drink tonight. Meet u at Camden tube at 7. j
Trouble indeed, see ya later 😉
I’m at Camden tube station just before seven and she’s not there. I then get this text:
Do you have a friend for my French friend tonight? Oui? ;p
I’m incensed. I can’t see her, so she appears to be either late or still in her hotel and tooling me. I call Nick and rage for a minute. We come up with a plan:
- If the friend is there be nice, work them both, double-tease them and work the set. See how it goes
- Accept no tooling whatsoever
- At the right moment bounce to venue 2 and if neccessary just directly say the friend has to head home now. If they refuse turn and walk away.
Youre bringing a friend?
I’m outisde Cameden Town statio nnow, i can meet her later or she might meet me
So it’s ambiguous. I walk round the corner and she’s there. Alone.
She’s not done up, no obvious jewellery or slut clothes. Mmmm. We shall see. I greet her, don’t try and touch her and we start walking to the first bar. She immediately starts jabbering on trying to dominate the conversation. I simply say “Shush” and put my hand over her mouth. She looks shocked. The Frame Crush begins. She starts babbling again and I tell her to just be quiet, enjoy London. She looks amazed but turned on. Her eyes sparkle. I then force her to walk behind me. I tell her she can use the lines on the paving stones to help her gauge distance. I laugh at her expression.
We’re in a blues bar. It’s spacious and open. We get drinks and I deliberately sit across from her at a table, but I turn myself away at an angle, to get that shitty dimissive body language she’ll need to feel attracted to me. We chat. It’s certainly easy to get this girl talking as she talks a lot. I find it easy. It’s just like guiding a frenetic toddler along a pavement. I ask her comfort questions and guide the conversation. I stop her and talk over her deliberately at certain points. Which happens a lot. This girl is American and despite being unable to form a logical conclusion from a given set of arguments believes she is smart. This girl, master-engineered by nature to coo to babies, grind corn and grub in the dirt for roots while the men did everything else actually believes she’s really smart. I swallow my outrage. I’m constantly amazed when I meet American women how incredibly ignorant and stupid they are yet what glowing educations and high-level jobs they manage to achieve. I can only surmise that the American education system is by and large utterly poisoned by feminism and mediocrity. In a free market this girl would be one of three things:
- a housewife
- a prostitute
- working in a pie shop
Anyway.. back to trying to fuck her. So the key elements at play her are to nudge and direct the conversation. To get her talking about what I want in order to produce the required psychological effect, but then to snip and stop her blabbering on endlessly. I plant seeds and she takes them and asks me about myself and I answer honestly but it just makes me more mysterious and slightly aloof. I crack a few jokes. I use contrast game and move between polar opposites: one minute I’m obscenely arrogant, the next vulnerable. One minute I pretend I’m stupid, the next I show intellectual insight in a certain domain. Sometimes I’m silly, sometimes serious. Sometimes alpha, sometimes vulnerable. Towards the end I hold eye contact and give her some eye mesmer. It feels tingly. I run a compliance test and take her hand to look at her rings. There’s no resistance at all and her hand feels soft and floppy.
After about 45 minutes I decide to run The Toilet Check. I excuse myself and head downstairs, take a pee and splash some cold water on my face. I relax and empty my mind and ask myself.
Is it on?
And my intutition says:
Ok. Time to change gear. Proceed to venue two. Bounce…..