Weekend field reports: Friday

Posted: June 16, 2012 in Uncategorized

Last Friday was the LSS social in a central London club. I went along with the intention of meeting some new wings (My post on the wings section of the LSS has only got one crappy response so far. Either everyone does day game now, or people were put off by the fact I started the post with ‘Dear Mansluts’. People need to learn to laugh. ). I only met one guy who fit the bill, and he lives slightly outside London, so don’t know if we’ll be sarging together much.

Between chatting to LSS guys I bought a drink at the bar by the dancefloor. I stood watching an Eastern European looking HB7 dance with her friend as I drank. I sensed they might be interested in meeting a man. This was confirmed when the HB7 shot me increasingly more obvious glances over her shoulder as she swayed her hips to the music. But I wasn’t going to go yet. I never do anything on the dance floor while I’ve got a drink. It’s one of my little quirks. Drinks and the dance floor don’t mix in my opinion. Too much risk of spillage, and I like both hands free to escalate with.

When I’m done with the drink I go to her. A small bit of AA since the club was so empty. It’s more nerve wracking approaching a girl when there’s only half a dozen people on the dance floor. I find it easier when I can hide in crowds. I push past the AA and go.

Me: Blah blah blah
Her (smiles): Blah blah blah

I take her hand and she’s ok with it, even kinoing me back. I like the way this is going.

Dance with me, I say. Now she pulls away and says something I can’t hear about her friend. I think she didn’t want her to be left out. She went quite cold on me physically at that point compared to the initially warm reception. Since she wouldn’t dance with me I told her maybe later and left her to it. I sensed the set still had some potential. Probably after she’d had another drink or two. She was giving me eyes a bit later, but I think she left early, so I never got a good chance to reopen.

All the LSS guys fucked off by 10pm. Some to a strip club, others to a Brazilian bar. I didn’t fancy the Brazilian bar, and regular readers know that a strip club would be a financial disaster for me, so I stayed put. The club was only half full at that time, and a cockfest due to the fact they were playing one of the Euro 2012 football matches (soccer for the yanks amongst you). I don’t like nightclubs playing football matches. It used to be just the pubs.

Although I know it’s possible to pull when the club is a cockfest, when you almost can’t see any women because it’s just men everywhere you look, it’s hard just to find a girl to hit on.

I meet up with an LSS guy who came too late for the social. He somehow instantly recognized me as a PUA, despite the fact I wasn’t even wearing my platform boots or goggles that night. We chat PUA stuff for a while, then I say we should hit the dance floor and hunt for women. The club’s about half full at this point.

There are two European girls dancing near the bar. They look friendly and open to meeting a man. They’re smiling and enjoying the dancing, but aren’t completely engrossed by it (like when you see women dancing with their eyes closed… just them and the music), and they have left a reasonable gap in between each other. These are good signs that they’re open to being approached.

A chode crystal has rapidly formed around them. Later in the night when more drunk and horny, and I guess more in state I might ignore this and just push through the men and grab the girl. At this point I try for eye contact with one of them. She’s an HB7 with curly hair. She won’t give me eye contact back, but knows I’m looking and is OK with that. At this point I realize that if I don’t either open or back off, then I become just another chode in the chode crystal. I decide to back off for now and see what else the dance floor has to offer.

It’s then that one of the guys dancing as part of the chode crystal comes and tells me she’s French and I should dance with her. This guy looks like the cliched passed his prime Italian player. Slicked back black hair. Pearly white teeth. A shirt with big collars. Perma-tan. Seductive eyes. May have been good in his day but he’s just a little old for it (he must be in his forties). It’s easy to laugh him off, but this guy could be a vision of my future. I’m 30 this month, which means I’ve only got maybe 5 more years of club game left in me. This is why my rate of progress worries me. If I was where I am now but only in my early 20s things would be fine. But the truth is I haven’t got much longer left for this type of fun.

I chat to the Casanova a little then decide to open the girl.

She’s sort of side ways on to me, and I’m slightly behind her so she can’t see me. I think girls always need to see you coming so you don’t startle them. I have a new way of opening girls from behind (LOL) when on the dance floor and it’s awkward to get in front of the girl. I just tap them on the shoulder. When they turn around, I get good eye contact, smile at them a little and hold out my hand for them to take.

She takes my hand and we dance a little. She’s from France and only in London for the weekend. I escalate a little too fast and get my hands on her ass prematurely. She backs off. There’s some guy in a red T-Shirt with white writing saying, “Bar Crawl Organizer” on rounding people up. She says she has to go to another bar now and leaves. I fucking hate these organized London bar crawls. It means they’ll often be a load of hot girls in the club that will only be staying for an hour then moving on to another bar / club. Waste of my time.

The club’s still not great. Men everywhere. Eventually a half decent brunette on the upstairs dance floor gives me a smile. I take her hand and move her out of her circle of friends. She’s hesitant about it at first but I persist. I dance with her a little. She’s Russian but doesn’t like vodka. Go figure. We’ll call her HBWhiteRussian. I go to take her outside for a cigarette. One of her guy friends tries to stop her but she comes anyway.

We talk outside. Her English is awful. I take her downstairs to dance away from her friends as I think she’s more likely to let me escalate while they’re not watching. She won’t let me kiss her. We sit down to talk for a while, and I number close her. We arrange to meet up the next day. When we go back upstairs her friends have gone home. I walk her to her bus stop, and make one more last ditch attempt to get her to come home with me. I sense it isn’t going to happen so it’s quite a half arsed attempt.

I saw her the next day and later in the week.  She says she’s looking for something more long term (despite the fact she leaves London within 4 months), and she seems to expect the man to pay for everything on dates. I don’t like either of these things, so I doubt I’ll put any more effort into her.

 

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Comments
  1. Jim Bacon says:

    I don’t know why you don’t get more replies to these posts, as they are always a quality read.

    Good effort on keeping trying throughout the night even though you got no kisses. I have to say that I always lose energy/hope very quickly and perhaps give up too soon (or did before I stopped going out due to health problems).

    It seems to me that you are pre-screening the girls you approach on the dancefloor by forcing eye contact with them, and seeing if they give you a smile or an inviting look before approaching. I am right about this?

  2. […] I was walking away from an art gallery, hand in hand with HBWhiteRussian when I see my ex walking towards the gallery with a guy. I’m sure she must have seen me, but […]

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