Fucking insane 5 hours. It’s 4:12am, just got on the train back to Brooklyn. I’ve never been to so many high end venues in one night and I think I’ve developed a solid connect with a promoter who frequents the best night clubs. It started liked this. Meet up with my Portuguese wingman in LES. We plan to go to this popular bar but decide to check out some Mexican bar nearby. Inside is exactly one three set and exactly all three of them are way above average for LES. All blonde, all tall, all cute.

I walk up, throw my backpack off my shoulder and sit down next to the one on the right. We start chatting. My wingman runs away, comes back with a beer and chat’s another one. The conversation with mine is fine, I’m not running out of things to say but she is giving me little. Also she has a boyfriend. Does she really have one? Who the fuck knows. My wingman gets the same boyfriend thing. Again, who the fuck knows. We chat and chat but they order an Uber and leave. My wingman finishes his beer, I finish off the drink one of the blonde girls left, and we bounce.

We’ve been outside for three seconds when I see a told blonde girl. Skinny. My type. We make eye contact and I do a solid open. “Hey, I’m sorry but you’re just not dressed in enough black. I like girls who dress in black and you just don’t make the cut.” She’s wearing black shoes, black leggings, a black shirt, a black jacket, black nail polish, and black eyeliner. We banter and she invites me and my wingman upstairs by mentioning that “Oh, my friend has a table. Come upstairs and you can come drink some free alcohol.” She has me hooked.

We go up to this venue that is 30 feet from a bar I’ve been to two dozen times and yet I never fucking knew it even existed. Secretive and hidden. It makes me wonder how many other clubs I don’t know about. The friend is a promoter, he’s chill, we all get a bunch of drinks. Since my wingman is leaving NYC in two days he doesn’t give a shit about building promoter connections, but I care a lot. So after twenty minutes he decides to leave, but I want to stay because I think there’s a 25% chance one of these guys will invite me to something cool or else at least give me his contact info.

Wingman leaves, I feel out of place. It’s immediately evident that I don’t have the level of game necessary to totally chill here and feel great. I just have the bare, bare fucking minimum amount of cool factor to be able to chill here and chat up people. The girl who I opened and who got us up here has immediately detected I lack serious game and isn’t talking to me. I feel like I’m hanging on by nothing and I don’t belong, but fuck! Determination. I decide to stick it out. I end up talking to a very tall gay guy who turns out to be a promoter. We chat and chat, and then he invites me to go to a high end club in Meatpacking. I say yes.

We take the train and get there. His friend has a table and we chill. The club is great for a Monday night but I’m not approaching anything. I’m just chilling at the table, stuck in my head. I believe that (right or wrong) by spending maximum amount of time with this promoter he’s more likely to invite me out again.

We leave and everyone goes to another club. Another table, another comped bottle. This is the third fucking high end nightclub that I’ve been to this night, and it’s the third time I’m pouring myself drinks from some promoter’s table. I’m in a club I could never, never fucking get into otherwise and I’m chilling enjoying it. I’m growing 0% in game or as a person, but I’m building some sort of connection with this promoter. He’s already taken my number and started talking about which events he’d like to invite me out to in the future.

There is an Asian girl here who I met in the other club and I start talking to her more. We chat some and then I ask her “If you could meet any celebrity in the club, who would you meet?” She thinks for a second and says “Owen.” Immediately I think no fucking way! There is no way. But then we make eye contact, she smiles, and I’m just like holy shit. I say “Can you give me his last name?” She doesn’t even answer that, she just says “Yeah.”  And that’s it. There is, as far as I know, exactly one girl in the NYC inner forum and I’ve met her in a basement club while we’re all partying, drinking some promoter’s comped alcohol. Just sick.

The night continues, I drink more free alcohol and chill. I’m focused on building a story with this promoter so that he remembers me and keeps in contact with me. At some point he makes out with the blonde girl who I opened decades ago, way back in the LES. I guess he’s only 90% gay. The thing for me is that about 100% of my night, ever since that blonde girl brought me and my wingman to the table, I’ve felt uncomfortable. Like I don’t belong. And let’s be honest, I don’t. My game is shit and we only made it up to this private club because I was able to do a super solid 2 minute opener. Once inside, once surrounded by promoters and girls, I feel totally out of my fucking league. I feel like a fish out of water and I’m stuck thinking when the fuck are they going to figure out that I don’t belong here?

So in summary, my game got 0% better tonight, but I did develop a night life connect and I got to meet a female PUA who digs on Owen. That was fun. Here’s what I fucked up.

* When we got to the first club I didn’t introduce myself to the HNIC of the table and because of that we never talked the whole night. It was my place to introduce myself to him and I failed to do so.

* Should have asked for the doorman’s name at the club and made some witty remark so he’s more likely to remember me.

* Even with my shit game this blonde girl was still almost into me at the first club and then at the next club and I could have absolutely pushed it a bit further. Those promoters didn’t give a fuck if I flirted with her. I wouldn’t have ruined anything by doing so.

* I spent about 90% of the night stuck in my fucking head. Like really stuck. Vodka helped a bit but not that much. To get out of my head I should have left the table, done an approach or two, and came back.