Out in Black

Learning Game: Reports from the Field

Tag: Miami

An Hour on the Beach with a Russian Singer

One day I will look back on the set I did yesterday and laugh at my own stupidity. I will probably question my very manhood and why I’m even in game in the first place. Shit. I don’t want to beat myself down too much though, there’s no point in that. So I’ll paint the picture of what happened, talk about what I fucked up, then mention what I did right. Let’s go.

In Miami and I’m feeling sick as a gay prostitute before they figured out what AIDS was. It’s 4pm and I’m about to spend the next eighteen hours in bed when I get a text, asking if I’m going out. I seriously debate ignoring it, but I just can’t. Something in me says get your fucking ass out there, even if you feel like shit. So I do, and I meet up with a guy from Peru. Can’t pronounce his name to save my life but he’s cool. Daygame around the beach. Talk to some unattractive Dutch girls to warm up, then some French girls, then some Spanish girls, then he finally breaks off and opens a cute redhead who is sitting by herself on the beach.

I immediately go sit down next to a blonde girl thirty feet away. I look at her for about 0.12 seconds and say “You’re Russian, aren’t you? Ты русская?” She says yes, of course. She’s very beautiful, and like other highly attractive women I’ve talked to, she’s wonderful. I’ve gotten way more shit from unattractive sixes than I ever have from model quality women.

Since she’s Russian we have lots to talk about. And we do. The conversation stretches on for about an hour. It was about 30 minutes into it when I saw her eyes go big and some subtle body language start to go my way. One thing that I was doing very well was physicality. I wasn’t doing any. In one hour I think I put my hand on her knee twice, that’s it. I just sensed that physicality was not called for, and I was correct. I built attraction without it.

So after an hour she’s like I want to get food. She’s a relatively famous singer and has plenty of money. She says she wants to go to a fancy steak house. I’m a relatively unknown nothing and I have no money. But we keep talking. Finally she stands up, says she’s going back to her hotel. We do one of those things where she says “Very nice to meet you”, I say “Очень приятно познакомиться” and then I just start walking with her anyways. Walking and talking, we’re moving very close to each other.

We get to the gate of her hotel, she turns and says goodbye again, with regret in her voice. And my dumb fuck brain thinks the appropriate reply is not “Let me just come in for a minute to use the bathroom” or “You have an awesome view in your room, let me check it out” or “Let’s go in for just two seconds, I want to check this hotel out. Two seconds, two seconds.” No.. My retarded brain says goodbye and walks away. I’ll never see her again. Unless I go to one of her concerts I suppose.

You know what it was? I didn’t think that a girl like her would be attracted to a guy like me. She’s talking about how she’s YouTube famous, she goes to the hottest clubs in NYC, she’s met loads of celebrities, and I’m just some guy. Or so I think. But what it really was isn’t that simple. I happened to be the right guy in the right place. She was spending the day away from her friends because she was sick of them. She was on the beach by herself feeling lonely. She had a glass of wine so she’s probably horny. And here comes this guy who has loads and loads in common with her, her speaks her native language, who loves NYC just as much as her, and we watch the sunset together while having a great conversation. In this situation I was absolutely attractive enough. Sure, the odds of pulling a girl like this from a club are super low. But in this situation everything was stacked in my favor. But success barriers and fear stopped me. What’s worse, I could literally hear the regret in her voice. Like she was on the edge of inviting me up to her room. Another glass of wine or two and she might have even done that. Fuck man.

So that was that. The best day game interaction I’ve ever had and I failed to close on it. Some positives? I approached. There were several times during the interaction where she gave me vibes like she might want me to leave, I ignored these. I expressed myself well. I didn’t leave the set. And so on. But you know what, ultimately I failed. Not just that I failed to pull, I failed because when it came time to do the scary thing, the thing my brain was screaming at me not to do, I didn’t do it. I didn’t go for it. I cared more about maintaining the good emotions than growing as a human being. That’s a failure in my book.

Next time, next time I do two things..

1. Assume that I am attractive enough. There will always be right time, right place situations where I will get a girl who I consider to be “out of my league.” However, if I am getting her, that means she likes me. Run with it, don’t think myself out of set.

2. I go for the pull, even if I fail. I use the two second thing, I use the bathroom thing, I use whatever but I go for the pull. To not do so is to go against everything that I believe in.

Mayhem on the First Night in Miami

2 am on Collins road in South Beach. I just experienced four hours of Goose and coke, I’m wasted. I’m leaning through the open window of a car, yelling “Give me back my fucking wallet bitch!” when the guy starts driving. I start running with the car, as drunk as Hemingway, until he’s going too fast and I fall out of the window. I made it about forty feet, but I had to give up on ever seeing my wallet again. Most disturbing about this entire experience is that without a wallet, I don’t have an ID and I can’t get into all of the bars and clubs I was planning on going to. Fucking alcohol. I don’t think these things happen when you’re sober. Interestingly I wanted an epic experience to mark the slowdown of my drinking for 2017. A go out with a bang type of thing. I suppose I got more than I wanted.

The truth is, alcohol sucks. It costs money. It causes hangovers. It’s unhealthy as fuck. When I’m sober I want to meditate and reach books. When I’m drinking or hungover I want to eat cheeseburgers and watch South Park reruns.

Anyways. Last night wasn’t all bad. I talked to women the whole night. Women from New York, women from Miami, women from other countries, women from this country. The whole night, hours and hours of women. I made out with a model but I was too drunk to think about pulling. My brain was not switched on. I made friends with a guy and I wanted his girl but I didn’t go for it. She kept talking to me but I wasn’t sure whether my guy friend wanted her or not. Decided to not be a dick. Noticed that I’m going for makeouts more. I just kind of go in for it, and if the girl turns away then I just go a bit farther and whisper something in her ear. Virtually no downside. In perfecting this I can see how I can consistently get makeouts and multiple makeouts a night.

I don’t know what I’m going to do about an ID. Maybe I can get a parent to send me an extra driver’s license if I have one lying around. I love Miami but I miss New York. I miss my clubs and my cool friends. I miss Le Bain with the weird looking door guy who never fucking smiles. I miss dollar slices of pizza and ignoring the fuck out of homeless people asking for money. I miss not having to see so many fucking Ferraris and Lamborghinis which remind me that I’m a have not.


Anyone in South Beach have an ID I can borrow for a week?

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