I get to the club solo at 11pm, walk in and look for the first set. I know that what I do in the next fifteen seconds will determine how the rest of my night goes. I see two Asian girls talking to one another with gusto. I get myself into there, they blow me out almost immediately, but I set the tone. I do a few more sets, one of my wings joins me, and then we approach, approach, approach. However, nothing is hooking for me. My mind is in a fucked state and not allowing me to be good with women. Kind of like Thanksgiving eve where I left feeling like the least sexually attractive man in the Milky Way.
One exception. Third set of the night I open a girl, she sort of nudges me to her friend who I start talking to. It’s going well so I say “let’s go play skeeball” and I pull her to the arcade area of this quasi club, quasi bar, quasi coffeehouse. We’re vibing and I can see the makeout happening, just not here. Too well lit, too many people. I plan on playing skeeball then pulling her into the darker area for a makeout. Then her friend shows up and physically drags her away. I took the girl without telling the friend. I hypothesize that this is probably the right move 75% of the time, but 25% of the time the friend may totally ruin it. Whether to tell the friend or not depends on the situation. More experience needed.
After, ten, fifteen, twenty, I have no fucking idea how many sets, the night ends at 2am when I say”I quit! I’m fucking done. No more.” Most of the night girls were blowing me off or not even responding to my existence. I felt like an iPhone 4: unwanted. But at the same time I’m also thrilled with my persistence. Nothing was fucking sticking but that didn’t stop me from opening everything in sight. I also practiced perpetual persistence where I didn’t accept the “It was nice meeting you” crap. There were several sets where I refused to leave. I’m super proud of that and my tenacity. Overall I gave it about 90% which is really good for me! That being said, I find that it’s also very informative to dive into what exactly I fucked up. Let’s have a look.
Being physical. At some point I stopped being physical. It was fear or rejection, plain and simple. I was playing the game to not lose, instead of playing to win. I laughed it off in the moment, but that girl getting stolen from may have affected me more than I realized. After that I subconsciously toned down my style and the result was that I looked like a softy. Generally I don’t have a problem being physical. But if I get into this case in the future, I need to hit the reset button and go back to being calibrated physical and playing to win.
Matching head height. This is a really good concept. Always match the head height of the girl. For example, the cutest girl I talked to last night, a ballerina, we started talking when she was standing up then she sat down. I stayed standing even though all I needed to do was grab a chair. That was a fuck up, should have sat down. Another time me and the girl were both standing with a chair between us. It made the interaction weird. I should have gone around to stand beside her, or better yet planted my feet and pulled her over to me.
Checking my phone. I kept looking at my phone. This really isn’t usually a problem for me. Usually that fucker stays in my pocket. I guess because my emotions were not so great I kept looking at it. In this case in the future I should just turn it off.
That’s really about it. I gave it my fucking all and I feel great about myself. That being the case, I can see how someday I might go through a faze where I’m a fucking asshole to girls. Once I get good at this I may revel in that and dish back some of the shit that girls have given me. God it sucks to work your ass off, put yourself out there and get rejected over and over. It’s glorious and beautiful, but I’m also probably not going to forget it so quickly once I do get good. I’ve heard plenty of guys talk about this same thing, the asshole stage. But that’s in the future, I know it will be temporary, and first I have to reach a point where girls even care about my existence. That requires more practice and more time at the club. Tomorrow is Saturday night in New York City, let’s get it..