Serbian Roller Coaster

It was the 27th November 2017. Me and Oscar had just had linner[1] at a cevapi joint in Belgrade. Having gamed alone semi-daily for a few days, I felt good. My macro-vibe was on a high, and now, with the added confidence of walking with a wing, I felt like daygame superman. A well-preserved 33-year-old woman walked by. Short. Skinny. Reddish hair with a red hat on it, looking like a strawberry. Pale. Many good things. She gave me an IOI and I ran over and front stopped her. Hook point came almost immediately. I told her she looked like Little Red Riding Hood with her red hat, and she told me that I was the wolf. I told her how they would open my stomach and she would jump out of it, even though I haven’t even thought of the story since I was a kid. That’s one of the amazing things about good vibe; it gives you access to little bits of memory that you’d forgotten existed, and at just the right time. It was the strongest set of the whole trip, the whole thing flowing nicely, and her already projecting when we would meet again. Good times. Her name was Marina. I took her number and texted her later that evening. Texting was easy, even though she made a slight attempt to take the frame and lead, which seems as common in the girls here as social retardation in Swedish girls. We organised to meet two days later.

The evening of the date came. She called me half an hour before we were supposed to meet, and told me she’d run slightly late. “No problem,” I said. “Text me when you’re there.” She ended up being 20 minutes late. No big deal. I was in high spirits. We met and the banter continued as if it had never ended, but with more sexuality this time.

“I had a burrito for lunch with raw onion in it. Sorry if I smell,” she said. She didn’t.
“The only time you can eat raw onion is right before you’re going to bed.”
“What if you’re sleeping with somebody?”
“Then, no. You have to be single to do it.”

We walked to the first venue, a small pub near the river. She took off her jacket and revealed a grey pants and vest over a white shirt. I told her she looked like the singer of a blues band, and we continued imagining what that would be like. I also incorporated some questions that Craig Cassidy had told me would be good to use on a date.

“What’s your guilty pleasure?”

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

“What kind of guys do you date?”

“What did you like about me?” (She said my thick black beard and my eyes)

They worked well in themselves, and so did the extra confidence of having somewhat of a plan for the conversation.

I felt great in the first venue. I was charismatic and her eyes were lighting up as I did my occasional spikes. I easily took back the lead when she was being too chatty. She had a tendency to ramble on, which I didn’t like. But it was clear that we liked each other. And she was white! After having only fucked Asian and black girls previously during the year, having a white 7 sitting across the table fully into me felt like being dealt a royal flush at a poker game after a streak of mediocre hands.

We had ordered one beer each, and I noticed she was taking too long to drink hers. Again, Craig’s advice came to me. “When it’s time to go, tell her to finish her beer. Otherwise, you’re not holding the frame!” Point taken. I told her to finish it. She left it and we left the pub. Cheers, Craig.

We walked to the river, which had been the original plan for the date. She wouldn’t position herself to be kissed. I was contemplating just grabbing her and pulling her in, but I decided that it would be too needy and fast. Better to keep progressing her through the date and go for it when she’s clearly ready. We stood by the river for a while, until I decided it was time to go to the second venue.

I’d scouted the area surrounding our apartment for good date locations the day before, and had found a close to perfect venue just around the corner. Dark lighting, sexual atmosphere, quirky decorations, sofas. “Bingo,” I’d thought, before making a booking for a sofa in the darkest and most secluded corner of the bar I could find. Now we arrived, and sat down. Marina made the annoying decision of ordering food along with her drink. The escalation-train would have to make a little halt. On top of that, she kept bantering in Serbian with our waiter, even after he suggested that they speak English. I simply ignored it and played with my phone/looked at the menu until they were finished. It was becoming increasingly clear that she had an overall bossy demeanour [2]. “Don’t react, don’t react, stay positive,” I told myself. I know that I’m too easily triggered by these things. When things are going well, I tend to forget that girls have to test you before they surrender to you sexually. She must have been content with the way I handled these obstacles, because after she’d finished her food, I put my arm around her and successfully pulled her in to lean on me. I told her I liked how her eyes lit up at certain moments when we were looking into each other’s eyes. “See, you did it again,” I said. She laughed.

Experienced daygamers will know that when a girl is willingly leaning on your shoulder, she’s almost certainly ready to be kissed[3]. This is my number one signal for when to go for it. If she leans on me when I pull her in, I will go for the kiss very soon. After a first failed attempt and some rolling off, I got it on the second try. “You’re nice,” she told me as she looked me intensely in the eyes with a suggestive smile, effectively pumping my body full of oxytocin and dopamine. I started to seed the pull before going for it. “Let’s go for one more drink at my place, but just one drink, because I have to get up early in the morning,” I said. She complied.

We got to my place and sat down on the sofa. I played her a song on my trusty melodica wingman, and we started kissing. I brought her over to the bed and we engaged in heavy makeouts. There was LMR, and I was beginning to feel like it wasn’t going to happen this night. “Are we going to meet again? When? Let’s meet another day,” she said. I kept making out with her while being on top of her, and started grinding my crotch against hers. “I want you,” she hissed. I took the hint and continued escalating, but she wouldn’t even let me take her jacket off. So, I said to meet the next day instead[4].

We got off the bed and left the flat. I could already notice that I was more affectionate with her than what I would normally be with other girls I’d pulled. That was the first red flag on my part. I walked the 10 minutes walk with her to her car, and she gave me a ride back home in it. We kissed and I stepped out of the car. “Don’t dream too much about me tonight,” I said. “It will be difficult,” she responded.

The whole next morning, my mind was entirely consumed by her. Oneitis was in the making. I felt it, and didn’t like it. I knew from experience where this would lead. Still, there was nothing I could do about it. I simply had to run my game and do my best to fuck her. “There is always an emotional risk in going for what you want,” I had told my sister a few days ago when discussing something else. “But you have to go for it, otherwise, you’ll never grow.” These words rung truer than ever. I remember waking up much earlier than I had been earlier during the trip. I was constantly checking my phone to see if she’d written me anything. She sent me a picture of her socks, and I responded. She didn’t text back for a long time. I thought to myself whether I should wait for her to respond or simply tell her when to come to mine tonight. I went with the latter option. She responded quickly and affirmatively. We arranged to meet at mine at 7pm for a homemade dinner.

Now, let me give you some context to this story. After the day I’d met her, I hadn’t gone out and gamed properly for around 4 days. The cold weather held most of the blame, since I nowadays will feel fatigued and tired after only a short time of freezing outside. This, combined with the fact that I had no other strong leads at this time and that I valued her as one of the hotter girls I’ve dated this year was an excellent recipe for neediness.

I should’ve gone out and done some daygame before she came. I should’ve went out and done things that would occupy my mind and give me some perspective to the whole thing. But I didn’t. As 7pm approached, she told me that she would be late again. She said that she would be 30 minutes late, but after 30 minutes, there was still no sign of her. This really soured my mood. This was supposed to be the highlight of my day, and now, she was ruining it. 45 minutes passed, and I thought that this was enough, and proceeded to start cooking the food to eat it alone. But then, five minutes later, as I was frying the chicken and finalizing the meal (I’d done most of the work earlier), she arrived. She apologised many times during the first minutes of coming, as she could probably see that I was annoyed. I tried to play it off and stay positive, but the neediness I felt for her combined with my sour mood made it feel like trying to push a giant boulder up a hill. All of nature was working against me. Still, the date progressed fairly well. We finished our food and sat down on the sofa. She’d come in wearing a big white figure-hugging knitted cardigan. It looked nice, but it wasn’t particularly sexy. However, I noticed that she was wearing something tight and black under it. I was curious what it was. Also, I noticed that she was wearing socks that ended just above her knees, and when she sat down eating my food, a strip of skin showed between the end of the cardigan and the end of each sock. I stroked it as I walked past her. We finished our food and sat down on the sofa. I put on some clips of me playing guitar on the computer. Then, her boss called. She excused herself and spoke to him while I entertained myself. I left the room to go to the bathroom and then tidied up the kitchen a bit. She got done with her phone call and told me that know I would have all her attention. I was still a little annoyed, and didn’t fully engage with her. I left the room again to do something, and when I came back, she stood in the doorway, smiling. We started to make out heavily. I pushed her into the wall, and she lifted one knee up as if we were in a love scene in a movie. Her big cardigan came off, and revealed what she had been hiding under it. It was a tight black tank top, coupled with a faux leather skirt that went down to just below halfway down her thighs. That, together with the socks, made her look like a cheerleader. She was skinny, too. Hallelujah! She straddled me as I sat down on the sofa and she gave me a lap dance as I undressed her. Her boobs were great, larger than what you’d expect on her skinny body. Her stomach had slight abs on it. She was beautiful. Exactly my type. “Should we go to the bedroom?” she asked. I grabbed her and stood up, and walked with her to the bedroom and put her down on the bed. I took the last of her clothes off, and we had sex.

The sex wasn’t good. I thought it was, in the moment, because I was really attracted to her, but looking back, it was shit sex. This had a few reasons. First, she was unlike any other girl I’d had in bed before. Her pussy was extremely sensitive. So sensitive, in fact, that I could barely touch it with my hand. Putting a finger in it was out of the question. I could only place my hand on it softly and rub it slowly. This was also a problem when I was inside of her because I couldn’t fuck her hard, like I normally do. She also didn’t want to give or receive oral sex. Second, she hadn’t slept much after our date last night, and was tired. The third reason was that I wasn’t dominant and masculine enough, before, throughout and after the sex. I felt weak. I felt like I didn’t have the balls to do what I wanted with her. This was obviously made worse by her sexual quirks. The fourth reason was my neediness, which was manifested through overblown affection from me, as well as other low value behaviours. After we had sex, I couldn’t stop touching her. I was consumed by neediness. In the back of my mind I probably knew that it was bad, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was addicted. My guess is that my weird, moody behaviour before the sex, the bad sex itself and my neediness after it together killed her attraction for me. It must have become clear to her hindbrain that I liked her more than she liked me.

I didn’t consciously realise that I’d fucked up until the next day, when suddenly she went cold in her text messages. Her messages were about ten percent as long as they had been just after we’d met. I began to think it was over. The good state that I’d been in when I met her was gone and replaced by a sad mood with a touch of anxiety in it. Oneitis was in full effect. I decided not to text her for two days, go out and game again, and then send her a ping to see if she’d gotten warmer. One day passed, and she pinged me. It was a Youtube link to Bruce Willis playing the harmonica and singing in a blues band. Apart from the surprise from not knowing that Bruce Willis could sing and play harmonica, I got some state back from thinking that maybe she was still into me after all. I was like a heroin addict who’s feeling like shit from going cold turkey and then gets a little shot of smack that makes him feel normal again. I invited her to meet me two days later, before I leave town. We were to watch a movie together. Two days later, she texted me this:

“I will not stay very long, sth came up at home. But I will come anyway at least to see you once more before you leave…”

She had mentioned before that she lived in a village outside of town with her father and her brother. She had not been wanting to go into it too much. I thought that her excuse was genuine and that she must like me since she was making the effort to come see me even though she had things to tend to at home.

She came, and from the moment I opened the door, I couldn’t behave normally. No matter how much self-control you exert, it seems you can’t hide severe neediness. I felt awkward, clumsy and non-centred. Still, I thought that things might be fine. I was wrong. We sat down on the sofa, and she maintained distance between us. When I pulled her in, she reluctantly agreed to lean on my shoulder. She did it, but there was no participation on her part. We talked for a while before I got up and told her to come with me to the bed. She objected, but I simply walked into the bedroom and sat down on it. She followed me and we talked some more, before I made out with her. When I touched her breast, she giggled, said “no,” and pulled my hand away. Some more making out and I tried again. Same response. I began to realise that I wasn’t going to fuck her. That she didn’t consider me sexworthy anymore. I stiffened and felt a tightness around my heart. Even writing it now, a few hours after it happened, makes the same feeling come back. I know, it’s gay. But I can’t control it. I decided to confront her. When she said something that hinted at not wanting to have sex I asked her:

“Then why did you come?”
“If I don’t want to have sex?”
“I’m attracted to you. You know that I’m not interested in another type of relationship. So why are you here?”

At this point she started rambling broken chick logic. When Roosh V says that you should never listen to what a woman says, this is what he means. I could only comprehend little bits of what she said, it was very incoherent, and my mind was in overdrive thinking of what I should do. One interesting bit that I remember was this:

Me: “Did you enjoy when we had sex?”
Her: “Yes, I like it.”
“Really? I don’t think you did. You didn’t let go, it wasn’t good sex.”
“Yeah… Maybe, if we’d had sex on the first date, it would have been different, because the day after, when we did, it just wasn’t the same.”

I’ve been thinking about what this means. Here’s my theory:

The first date went well because I wasn’t yet needy and I was in high spirits. She left that night highly attracted to me, which explains her both texting me to tell me she’s home and then pinging me in the morning. It also explains her making the effort to dress up in sexy clothes the next day. But on that next day, for reasons already mentioned, I was in a shit state and needy, which resulted in the vibe of the date being bad, me beginning to lose the frame and having shitty sex. When she said that it might have been different if we’d had sex on the first date, she meant that she would have enjoyed it more and possibly let herself go more if it would have happened on that date. I think this is true, because the vibe when we were in my bedroom the first time was magical. I felt like a completely different person compared to the day after when we had sex and I have a feeling that whatever would have happened then in terms of her queering up the sex, I would have been able to handle it better.

Now back to my bed and my failed attempt at sleeping with her again. In the middle of her rambling, I interrupted her:

“Listen, I’m attracted to you like a man to a woman. If you don’t feel the same way, you should leave.”
“Okay, I will go. In five minutes.”

It didn’t take five minutes. I didn’t say anything more, and she got up in about twenty seconds and dressed in the hall while I remained still on the bed. She came back to say goodbye. She seemed to be expecting a hug, because she came to stand at the edge of my bed, looking at me. But I couldn’t give it to her. When a girl snatches the frame from me and there’s no winning it back, I just cut them off. I can’t act civil and treat them nicely and give them attention when they no longer respect me. I can’t even do it a little bit. In this example, I couldn’t even give her a hug and a warm goodbye. It’s an instinctive thing. It feels as if an invisible force is keeping me from doing it. I’ve tried to explain this behaviour to myself, and I the best theory I’ve come up with is that when the dynamic changes and I lose the power, I also lose my trust for them, and thus seek to distance myself from them and protect myself as much as possible. There have been times in the past, say around 4 years ago, where I’ve hung out with a girl that I’m sexually interested in after she’s rejected me. In hindsight, it felt like I was pissing on my own self-worth, only I didn’t know it back then, because I did have much of it anyway.

What it did next is slightly cringeworthy. As she was stood waiting for me to get up and give her a proper goodbye, I put out my hand to invite her for a handshake, as if it was the end of some kind of business meeting. My only explanation for this is that I don’t do well in confrontational situations. I couldn’t think clearly because of the adrenaline flood that was overrunning my brain. She didn’t take my hand. “I won’t get up.” I found a dark satisfaction in her reaction to those words.

“You won’t get up?” I saw her face contracting while she tried to maintain the smile on her lips. Evidently, I wasn’t the only one who felt the pressure

“No. I’ll stay here.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, unable to say it clearly.

She walked out of my room, through the living room, past the sofa and out in the hall. I heard her closing the door. It was game over. Another notch had been attained. Another emotional roller coaster had reached its bottom. It was time to heal, and to, of course, do it again.

[1]: Brunch, but for lunch and dinner. Tends to be consumed when you have nothing else to do every day but hitting on girls, and thus waking up ridiculously late.
[2]: Which seems to be the norm here. The consensus on the Balkans seems to be that it takes an extra-strong frame to be successful. I concur with this opinion. This trip has made me really up my game in terms of dominance.
[3]: Tom Torero refers to this as the Floppy Test.
[4]: In hindsight, I’m not sure whether this was a good move or not. Over-escalation has made me lose a few lays in the past, and thus I’m much more sensitive to resistance today. I think this is a good thing because it reduces the risk of girls jumping ship because of over-escalation. However, I might be missing out on quicker lays. Going forward, I will try to understand and overcome LMR more successfully. I plan on incorporating the “macro-roll off”, e.g., getting off the bed and making some tea, before going for it again.

Cocktease Masala

I met Roshni, a short and curvy Indian girl, inside of H&M by Oxford Circus. We had made eye-contact as she walked by me, and as I opened, there was instant eye-spazz. Even though the set could have went smoother, it resulted in me getting her out on a date. We spent it in my usual first venue pub in Covent Garden. It felt very on from the start, but I didn’t escalate further than some light touching. It was all very pleasant. I smiled a lot and enjoyed the conversation. But when I went for the kiss, she rejected the attempt. I was surprised at the time, but now I realise what the problem was. Like on the date with the gorgeous Burmese girl, this one was steering into boyfriend territory, right under my nose. I’d been too comfortable and too comfort-heavy. And now, that had resulted in her non-compliance. When time came to bounce to the second venue, she started putting up resistance. “No, let’s stay here.” I wouldn’t buckle, but still, this wasn’t the behaviour of a girl who’s firmly in your frame.

We went to the second and third venues, and I tried kissing her many more times, which was another mistake. It gave her too much power. We were talking dirty, I was touching her boobs (which were enormous), but she just wouldn’t kiss! At the end of the date I stole an apple from the bar we were in (it was in a fruit bowl on a table, meant to serve as decoration). As we were parting, she did something that really defined the whole story with her. She said: “If you weren’t eating that apple I’d kiss you.” I didn’t care and told her I liked my apple, before we said goodbye.

I went home to Stockholm for two weeks and texted her to keep her warm. Part of me knew that she’d put me in the wrong box, but since I didn’t have enough leads to not have time to message all of them, I decided that she was worth the time [1].

I came back to London, and we arranged a second date. I tried kissing her early on, and she rebuffed the attempt. “Here we go again,” I thought. She started shit testing me, accusing me of being a player and saying that she didn’t believe a word I said. She asked about what I’d done in Sweden and quite blatantly inquired about any possible interactions with members of the opposite sex. This was another bad sign. When she’s sizing you up to be the boyfriend, she’s naturally going to demand exclusivity on your part. I only gave vague answers. I started to get tired of the whole thing. I felt gamey, she was being gamey, and the interaction felt so disingenuous. I told her I needed to go home. She felt the push and started asking me if I was bored. I was, quite frankly. I was bored of being milked for my time and attention and not getting anything back for it. I was irritated by her tests and constant “why?”-questions following every single one of my statements. She was acting like a spoiled, demanding child. Unsurprisingly, she told me that’s exactly what she’d been when she was little.

Somehow, somewhere along the way back to my home, my mood changed and I decided to try something new. I took her to a café called Laudurée. I know, it sounds like a place way too posh to take a girl that you want to have lover sex with. But it was close to my apartment, and we’d seeded the idea of eating macarons before. Things got more real, and it felt like we were being ourselves more. It was a breath of fresh air. When it was time to leave, I paid the bill. Again, this was probably a mistake, but the poshness of the place and the people sitting nearby made me decide not to split the bill, even though I could see Roshni was slowly reaching for her card.

We went outside and I told her I was going to play a song for her on my guitar. She came with some token resistance (“I have to go soon”). I played her a song, she snuggled up to me, and then, I went for the kiss. I finally got it! Things got more hot and I got her enormous boobs out. Boy, were they big. I had my fun with them and tried getting her bra off. It wouldn’t happen. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you do that.” Fair play, I thought, and felt content with where I’d gotten. From not even getting the kiss to heavy make-outs and playing with her massive jugs felt like enough progress to validate a third date.

I thought it was in the bag. One more date, and I’d finally get that notch. It would make it the seventh of the year, which would mean that so far, in 2017, I’d almost fucked one new girl per month. Can you tell I was counting my chickens before they hatched?

She came over for a third date, and I cooked food for us to eat. She wore tight fitting jeans and a figure-hugging black knitted top. She looked hot. I cooked, we ate, and I got really full, so I laid down on our ghetto-ass sofa [2]. “Can I join you?”, she asks. “Yes,” I reply, eager to rip those tight fitting clothes of and ravage her boobs and the rest of her body. It was finally going to happen. The notch, along with the end of over a month-long dry spell was within my reach. Nope. We started kissing briefly, before she pulled back and said “I only came here for the food.” Now this would have been acceptable behaviour if it was a genuine rationalisation on her part. It is common knowledge in the PUA-sphere that a girl doesn’t want to be the instigator for sex. She doesn’t want to be at fault. So naturally, she will say things like “We’re not going to have sex. I don’t sleep with guys so fast,” etc. But what she did next hinted that this wasn’t a case of normal anti-slut defence. After having told me that her only intention by coming to my house was to satisfy her appetite, she added on a “does that annoy you?”. She was playing games. She wasn’t “in my frame.” She didn’t respect me enough to simply let herself get fucked. Instead, she was leading me on, making me escalate on her to then rebuff my attempts with a bullshit excuse and a “does that annoy you?”™ added on the end, all the while milking me for attention and investment. Now, I did get her top and bra off while we were watching a movie, and I took my t-shirt off. Even though she wouldn’t let me take her pants off, I thought the lay might still be possible. But her shit-tests and attempts at taking the frame were leaving me with a bad taste in the mouth. It started to feel beyond my worthiness to keep chasing her. “Does that annoy you?” “You’re damn right it annoys me, you cunt!” is what I felt like saying. I was increasingly angry. I got my pants off, and she grabbed my dick. When she refused to suck it with a firm negating “mm mm,” I decided that the lay wasn’t going to happen. It was time for the apocalypse move. I got up, quite nervous about what I was intending to do, and proceeded to put all of my clothes back on. She did the same, sensing that some switch had went off in my brain. “You should go,” I told her. “Go?” she asked, seemingly surprised. “Yes. I don’t like you playing games,” I said, my hands shaking from the adrenaline rush. Growing up in Sweden makes you inherently uncomfortable with confrontation. English people say the same thing about themselves. But they have no idea. Reflecting on it now, I feel like my decision and subsequent behaviour was reasonable, but in that very moment, thoughts of doubt were racing in my head. “Am I over-reacting?” “Could I have gotten the lay with just a bit more patience?” “Is she really playing games?” Still, the point of no return had been passed. I had to stick to my decision. She collected her things before I walked her to the door and helped her unlock it. There was a brief moment where both of us were pondering how to say goodbye. Without making eye-contact or saying a word, I closed the door.

[1] Which she was. I’m a strong believer in the “any experience is good experience”-mantra.
[2] It’s an old bed mattress that we’ve put on the floor. Better than nothing.

Banging a Singaporean girl – in London

It’s been two months now since I left Singapore, but yesterday I found myself on a date with yet another Singaporean girl, this time in my new city, London. Her name was Erica [1].

I met her on a warm summer’s day in Covent Garden. She was sceptical during the street stop, but we still spoke for a while before I ended up taking her number. I thought I wouldn’t get her out on a date since her responses gradually got shorter and shorter. After vacuuming (not writing her) for about a day I re-engaged with my trademarked Baguette Ping. She responded, and we got into a back-and-forth text conversation. Even though her responses were still short, the vibe of the conversation was unmistakably sexual. I felt my inner animal awaken and my entitlement rising. I stopped relying on my default date-request texts and made something new up that fitted the situation, and she agreed to meet up that same night. What a great surprise!

The time for the date came around and I found myself alone by Covent Garden station, waiting for her to show up. My last two scheduled dates with other girls had ended up with them simply not showing up. Now five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed. Not again, I thought to myself, half relieved because of the pressure of the date being taken off me, and half worried that there might be a fundamental flaw in my game that I’m not aware of. I walked into Marks and Spencers across the road to buy some candy, figuring it’s better for my inner game to not wait for her like a dog. I bought my candy, and then had another look at the station entrance just in case she’d showed up. I didn’t think she would at this point. Her texts have been too short, she isn’t invested enough. I was about to accept the setback and go home, eat my candy and recharge for yet another day of grinding it out on the streets. But there she was, stood just outside the station, texting me an apology for being late. I walked up to her. She looked much better than I’d thought when I saw her the first time. She had a light dress on, and a nice, curvy figure along with the expected Asian skinniness that I like. Her hair was cut in a shoulder length bob, which made her look cute and a bit mature. We chatted on the way to the first venue, a classic-style English pub, and I felt the usual awkwardness of the first minutes of the date. I focussed on relaxing and creating a comfortable vibe, instead of going overboard with rapport-destroying badassness like I’ve done in the past. If a girl comes out on a date with you it is because she’s sexually interested in you [2], so trying to seem cool in order to generate sexual interest is unnecessary and even counter productive. I chatted a bit about her and her day, and tried to really listen to what she was saying and staying on the conversational topic.

We came to the pub, and I did the Tom Torero routine off telling her to find us two great seats while I get the first round. She clearly liked the dominance, her face lighting up with a smile and her eyes widening. I sent her on her way and went to order two IPAs. I went upstairs to find her, and saw that the entire floor was empty except for three tables, one being ours. It felt a bit odd, and Erica thought so, too, but I reminded her that it was Tuesday. She put up a slight challenge in the beginning of the date, asking me many questions and trying to qualify me. I alternated between answering her questions truthfully [3] and giving her ridiculous answers. Also, I would switch the focus back to her a lot. It’s possible that her asking many questions was a way for her to manage her own nervousness, so I didn’t go out of my way to battle her. I did some hand-kino by comparing hand sizes. She knew what I was up to and played along, but still pulled back slightly, not giving me full compliance. I did the routine of telling her three things I like in a woman, one of them being good-smelling hair, and then grabbed her hair to smell it. Since it was cut in a bob, it required both of us to lean forward quite a lot for my nose to reach it. It wasn’t very smooth, and she resisted it, saying that it was “creepy”. This didn’t shake me. I knew she was just putting up a front of being a good girl. She knew what was up.

I rolled off the physicality for a while, and we started to build rapport. I told her stories from my time in Singapore, and she seemed to enjoy them. I’ve noticed that many girls’ eyes light up when I go into a story with one hundred percent conviction. Hers did, too, and I made sure to make the stories as dramatic as possible. We talked about her as well, and I asked her about what she studies and what she wants to do in the future. I started feeling warm towards her, and when we both leaned forward over the table there was a pleasant, electric tension between us. I started to understand what a date should feel like. A date is about seduction, and seduction is different from attraction. We finished our beers and went to the second venue. The second venue is a dark and much sexier one. The music is trippy trance music, the lights are placed on top of naked mannequins, as well as many other quirky details. And of course, in this venue, there are sofas where me and the girl can sit next to each other. We sat down on one of these sofas, with some space between us at first. I didn’t go to her, instead leaning back and spreading my arms out. We chilled for a bit, and looked at the bar menu, trying to decide what to order. At one point, I take the menu and pretend to read her a story out of it. I tell her a story that is obviously about herself, where “a little girl called Erica came to London and met a crazy man called Sam…” and so on. It was fun, and goofing in this way put me in a flow state where I stopped caring so much about what I said. She went to get the second round of drinks, while I went to the bathroom. I came back, and we had our drinks served to our table. I wanted to escalate further, and noticed how I could put my hand on her shoulder and grab her, even shake her a little bit, without her flinching. That’s a good sign. So a little bit later, I grabbed her and started pulling her towards me. “What?” she said. I gestured for her to come sit next to me. She asked, “why should I?” and I responded, “Well, you don’t have to, but I’d like you to”, and then proceeded to drink my drink and not push it further. Recognising my non-needy intent, she sat next to me and pushed herself into me. I made a point out of finally smelling her hair. It smelled good, and it turned me on.

We started talking about more sexual topics. We spoke about her past relationships, her telling me that she’d come out of a 5 year relationship and decided that she would never have a relationship again. I told her that my longest relationship lasted 6 months, mindfully positioning myself as the fast-sex guy. She told me that she didn’t believe in monogamy, and how she thought it was unnatural. I agreed, telling her about women’s dual mating strategy, how they will marry one guy for security, but the sex will be shit, and they’ll secretly want to fuck the badass who chooses his freedom and isn’t willing to be locked down in a marriage. As I lectured her about these red-pill truths, she started stroking the inside of my thigh and leaning into me more and at one point she told me: “You’re such a rebel”. She was getting turned on, and it filled me with pride. I was getting full confirmation that I was the lover, something I’ve sought to be for years. I was certain I was going to be able to kiss her. I’d been sure ever since she sat down next to me and leaned into me. At one point during a drawn out silence, I turned her face by her chin towards me, and we engaged in a soft make out. Between the talking, we made out a couple of more times after that, a bit heavier each time and always with me ending it first. We did the questions game, her telling me that she’s previously had a relationship with another woman, that her favourite position is doggy style and that she’d had sex with a married man in his family home without knowing he was married. It was on, so I pulled. I told her something along the lines of: “Do you have a favourite song? I’ll play it for you, I have a guitar. But you have to promise me one thing. You have to clap when I’m done.” Her response was an affirmative one, although a very faint one. I knew, however, that faint agreeing, or even silence, is a green light. She went to the bathroom, and when she came back, we walked out and went to my place, which is in the block next to the second venue. I put my arm around her and she responded by doing the same thing. I don’t normally like to do this, but the vibe was so warm and pleasant that it felt totally natural. Besides, she was only in London for holiday and didn’t seem to have a reputation to protect. She did some light teases on the way, probably to see if it rattled me [4]. It did a bit, but not a lot. I simply agreed and amplified whatever tease/shit-test she threw at me and laughed it off. We got to my room, and I sat down on the bed, her on the other side. I played her Hallelujah on the guitar, as I looked into her eyes. I played one more song, before I decided it was time to escalate. She asked me if I wouldn’t play her another song, which was token LMR. I told her no, and pulled her over to my side of the bed. Things got hot from there, her clearly gagging for it. After getting past a bit more token LMR, we banged. Score!

[1] No, it wasn’t.
[2] Assuming you were man to woman on the street.
[3] While still avoiding to qualify myself and ramble on.
[4] For example, when I told her that I had a friend who, like her, lived near London Bridge, she jokingly asked if she could have his number, while clearly looking at me to gauge my reaction.

YouTube launch

I’m back in the daygame capital of the world, London. Me and another dedicated daygamer called Tom are properly starting a youtube-channel. Like, borrowing-your-friends-DSLR-and-filming-in-between-the-rain-storms properly. We filmed our first video in the weekend and it’s just gone through editing. Here it is for your enjoyment:

Summary on Daygame in Singapore

I’m writing these words on a Ukraine International Airlines plane, on my way home from Singapore to Stockholm. The plan is to see my family and re-pack before I move to London for a second time. So here I sit, thousands of feet above the ground, under slept and with airplane ears. I’m definitely not a fan of long plane rides. Apart from the obvious boredom of having to sit still in one place for over 10 hours it also makes my ass and teeth [1] hurt. But despite all of this, rather than to sit and suffer in boredom for the remaining 8 hours of my flight, I decided to be productive. And what better way to be productive on this plane ride than to give my few but trusty [2] readers a summary of my time in Singapore. Let’s start by diving right into the numbers.


Time spent in Singapore: 2 January – 7 May (4 months)
Instant dates: 5
Day2’s: 10
Day3’s: 2
Pulls: 8
Same day lays: 1 (hotness: 8)
Day2 lays: 2 (a 7 and a 6)
Near misses: 3

These numbers are all from daygame. I did almost zero gutter game and I stepped inside one single bar and did one approach during my entire visit in Singapore. In fact, almost all of these numbers stem from either the 313 Somerset or ION Orchard malls, or the pedestrian area between them.

This has been the most successful period in my daygame journey by far. The proof is in the results. In 4 months, I had 8 pulls to my apartment, 3 girls that I was close to fucking (near misses) and 3 new lays.

The fact that I have had as many near misses as lays makes me feel like there was something to be improved in my dating/endgame. Let’s go through the reasons for each of the near misses. One of them was caused by over-escalation that caused the girl to leave my apartment and subsequently block me on WhatsApp. In another near miss, the girl was on my bed in nothing but her panties, but wouldn’t let me take them off and fuck her because she was on her period. I felt her panties and she did indeed have a sanitary pad [3] there. The third near miss was with a girl who it was going really well with, but due to me not being alpha/r-selected/fuckboyish enough she wouldn’t let me escalate beyond kissing after I got her on my bed.

Quite a variety of reasons there. The bottom line is that my dating and end game need to improve. This shouldn’t surprise anyone, because I’ve just started to get regular dates from daygame. Moving forward, I want to add structure to my dating, which right now is just a salad of improvised silliness, asshole spiking [4] and boring chit chat. I want to have prepared topics to talk about and a plan for how to escalate verbally when it doesn’t happen naturally [5].

Now, let’s talk about the good stuff, the lays. My first lay was a same day lay with a hot Singaporean nymphomaniac slut. That isn’t to say it didn’t take skill to attract her, but once the attraction was done and I’d managed to lead her through her hesitation to an instant date, it was almost hard not to manage to fuck her. The sex was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. She fucked like a bona fide pornstar. I could probably have had more sex with her if I’d had more experience with post-sex game [6].

My second lay was with a half Korean, half Chinese Singaporean who I fucked on the first date (Link to article). I was surprised that I managed to even get her out, but patience and text game experience paid off. Once on the date with me, it felt like she had already decided to fuck. After venue 1 and venue 2 I pulled her to my place with some light resistance on the way. We were sat on my bed and I played my melodica for her. I then kissed her, got all her clothes off almost instantly and fucked her without any LMR. The sex was bad, with her lying like a starfish most of the time and me trying in frustration to make her excited. She disappeared like a ghost afterwards and made it clear on text that “she was not interested in a repeat” and that “she wasn’t really that into me”, but “just wanted to try it”.

My third lay was the most unusual one. I’d approached a near 40-year old Filipina domestic cleaner who was walking with a basketball in tight yoga pants and a sports bra early on in my trip. I never managed to get her out until about 3-4 months later [7], but when I did, it was on. I took her to a park and took great care to not over-escalate and successfully flipping the script. After some making out in the park and me rubbing her pussy through her yoga pants (she seems to own no other clothes [8]), I pulled her to mine with zero resistance under the pretence of us going to watch a movie. She started escalating on me from behind as I was on the computer contemplating which movie to pick, so I decided to skip the movie and just fuck her right away. It was smooth sailing and quite enjoyable. After I blew my load though, I had no interest in having her around me anymore. She looked quite busted [9] and while I sprayed my cum over her chest, face and hair [10], my attraction for her vanished. She was quite clingy as I sent her off to a cab that I don’t think I paid for [11].

Lastly, let’s talk about the bread and butter of the daygame-effort, namely the daygame done on the street. On the street, I did some of the best sets in my life on this trip. Repeated analysis by myself, my Singaporean wingman Zak and my wing Tom in England made all the pieces of the puzzle come together. I reached new records of consistency with the street approach due to new moments of enlightenment and inner game advancements. The last weeks, however, I got lazy with the self-analysis, and the quality of the sets deteriorated. It is imperative that I start analysing my sets again as soon as I get to London next week. Self-analysis breeds competence, and competence breeds confidence.

I came to Singapore on a university exchange program. I’ve always been a good student, which made it feel somewhat surreal to see myself possibly failing [12] courses due to not studying enough. I’d initially decided to not do the exchange at all, since I was afraid it would distract me from my goal of becoming an elite daygamer. And while it did somewhat distract me (some weeks I did no daygame due to simply having too much to do in school) I feel like it was worth it. I made a friend for life and learned tons from going out with him. I saw a part of the world that was completely foreign to me. I evolved immensely as a daygamer. And last but not least, I developed yellow fever [13]. Let’s see if it lasts in London…

PS. The flight that I’m on now is a Bangkok-Kiev flight (it was the cheapest option to fly Singapore-Bangkok, Bangkok-Kiev, Kiev-Stockholm) and thus, it is loaded with Ukrainian girls. They’re hot! Just next to me on the other side of the aisle is a girl sleeping in purple/blue yoga pants that reveal a gorgeous body, with muscular legs and a big, firm and round ass. Behind her sits a hot brunette. A visit to Kiev seems due…

[1] Yes, my teeth.
[2] I don’t even know if you’re trusty. I just know you’re few.
[3] Is that what it’s called?
[4] Which I sometimes even forget to do.
[5] I’m already very structured in my daygame, and it makes sense to approach dating in the same way.
[6] I’m a bit embarrassed to say this, but I had a case of affection addiction with her that clouded my judgement after the lay. More lays should solve that problem.
[7] She got back on the radar each time I ran into her again due to her living in the main daygame area.
[8] Just kidding, I’d seen her in other clothes when bumping into her. She told me she wore workout clothes so that she could go running if I didn’t turn up on the date, which she thought would be the case.
[9] Even though she must’ve been one of the hottest women in the Filipina-domestic worker demographic.
[10] Oops.
[11] I hope I didn’t.
[12] I’ve yet to receive my grades.
[13] I thought this would never happen. But like my partner in crime Tom says, “You’re DNA understands it’s got no choice.”

Over-Escalation: Korean Girl Fleeing the Scene Head Over Heels (+Text game)

This happened a couple of weeks ago. I was pretty sure before the girl’s great escape that I’d be getting laid. Unfortunately (or fortunately), her escape exposed a flaw in my game that I’d been neglecting, or that I’d not discovered yet, namely over-escalation. The harder you push, the more resistance you’ll get from the girl, and if you’re not careful, that resistance will accumulate and blow up in your face. Anyway, here’s the report:

Singapore, 2017-04-08 3:41 AM

I did an approach in the evening outside of 313 Somerset. She was Korean, with thick legs and a curvy body, a rarity in Singapore, where skinny is the norm. I did the front stop, got really close to her and ran a sexually charged and awkward set for what I believe was around 7 minutes. Got the number, but was afraid that she would flake due to the set being too sexual. I’ve heard that that can happen since the girl will associate meeting up with you with guaranteed sex, which of course triggers her slut defence. However, the texting went well and I got her out on a date this Friday night. She finished very late at her restaurant job (which she wouldn’t tell me the location of, as well as where she lives) and I met her at 12:30 AM. We go to a bar in the Somerset area which has great sofas to sit side by side in. I sit down in the sofa by a table that’s been reserved for us (I went there earlier the same day to make a reservation like the true, diligent daygamer I am, lol). She sits down next to me and doing kino is really easy. I pulled her into me after what was probably less than 10 minutes of sitting down, and quite soon, my hand that is held around her is caressing her breast via her bra and dress. It felt to me like she’d decided on fucking and the date was just a formality. Nevertheless, we follow the social convention of engaging in conversation and ordering our drinks, me a white Russian, inspired by my classy, legendary old friend from back home, and she a Bellini. She pays, which is a relief. Alcohol in Singapore is stupidly expensive.

By Asian standards, she’s fat

I’ve been trying to have a structure in my dates lately, but to be honest I’m still struggling with it. Rather than sabotaging myself by trying to follow any structure I pretty soon decide to just go with the flow. I spike things up, then some rapport, and then repeat. It’s worth noting that I go for the kiss close around 3 times as we’re sitting there. I get close on the second attempt, but at the last moment, she turns away. I’ve been on dates with awkward Asians before and figured that it was simply a case of their fear of getting sexual in public, a feature that is rarely seen in Swedish and many other western women.

She’s an extremely slow drinker, clearly having low tolerance for alcohol, which she herself admits. An hour in and she’s still only half way! God damn, in this tempo I’ll fall asleep in the bar forgetting to pull her! I put some pressure on her. “Wow you’re a real slow drinker. You don’t like it? You’re not having anymore? Okay. Do you want me to finish it? You sure? Okay.” and then I proceed to drink the rest of her drink. Having her pay for the drinks and drinking half of hers. Yes, I know what you’re thinking; Sahand is a true gentleman.

I’m seeding the pull in various ways as we’re having the first drinks by the way. I talk about the wine I have at home, me playing music, playing her a song on my melodica, showing her clips from back home of me playing guitar, and possible other things that I can’t remember.

I tell her, “let’s go” as I get up from the sofa and we leave the bar. Trying to act casual (I wasn’t that stressed about it but I had to be conscious about not making the pull a big deal) I tell her “let’s go to my place. I’ll play you a song”, or something along those lines. She’s a bit hesitant but complies by following me. A funny side note is that on the way to the cab a girl I number closed the same day walked by us hand in hand with a guy. I wonder if she saw me. I hope she did.
We get a cab that I pay for since the Iranian in me is dying to repay the debt he’s in by having drank out of someone else’s pocket. To be fair, it was only right. The drinks were probably at least 4 times as much as the cab fare. I still feel a bit guilty about it. Anyway…

We get up to my apartment. She first makes an excuse about not coming in because of my roommates sleeping. I should’ve noted what was to come at this point already. I tell her it’s okay, don’t worry, and step in to get some water for us. We then go into my room and I put on Gangnam Style and we have a bit of a laugh before changing to something more seduction friendly. We’re getting close and she senses that I’m about to go for the kiss, but says she needs to go to the bathroom first. Sure, no problem. She goes to the bathroom, then I go after her. When I come back, I instantly sit down behind her and start massaging her body. First her shoulders, then her breasts and stomach. She has nice boobs, just a handful, and she’s moaning as I squeeze them. This is a done deal, I think to myself.

I turn her head to me and make out with her. It’s very passionate. Her whole body is engaged in what is going on and she’s moaning without me touching her private parts. I get her breasts out, and eventually take off her dress. I keep escalating, until she suddenly goes “I should go home”. WTF? “Uhm, okay.” She starts getting dressed. I think of what to do. “Do you want to watch a movie?” She kind of stops and seems to want to, so I just assume she does. I put on “La La Land” which I downloaded on my laptop to watch with another girl who it eventually died out with. We sit down on my bed to watch it. I have zero interest in watching movies in my free time. I literally never do it if it’s not with a girl or at the cinema with a friend. It’s boring to me. Thus, I start escalating again. Two minutes into the movie we’re making out. Three minutes in I’m going for the lay again. Again, she’s super turned on, BUT, she’s holding back at the same time. After things progressed a bit (didn’t get her clothes off this time) she again said, “I should go home”. I admit I over escalated here. I put the computer away and made out with her after she stopped me from escalating. She didn’t refuse the escalation, so it wasn’t obviously pushy, but it was still a mistake to escalate with her giving all those red lights. This time I didn’t try to do anything to make her stay. What happened next was a new thing for me. She took her phone (her only belonging in the room), and simply walked out with nothing but a “Goodbye”. I got up, put on my T-shirt and went to the door. I helped her unlock the door and she was gone. 30 minutes later her WhatsApp picture was no longer visible to me, which means that either she removed my number or blocked me. Or both. Anyway, this is a good excuse to let into the chocolate cravings I’ve been having today. See you guys later, I’m going to 7-Eleven.

Since I promised you text game in the clickbait title:

Yup, it’s long

Lay report – Blood on the sheets

This girl I approached in a metro station, here in Singapore, where I’m spending this semester. She had business attire, a semi short black skirt and heels, with a finely knit beige sweater. She had a nice face and long, skinny legs. Chinese-Korean mix.

Set was okay, I was masculine, dominant and relaxed in the interaction but it was very short and I didn’t feel like I established much comfort with her. I expected her to flake. Nevertheless, I texted her, as is good practice for a pickup artist. She replied. I focused on building intrigue and mystery, instead of being boring. She stopped responding a couple of times, and I restarted the conversation with pings. Soon, she started investing a lot and writing walls of text, while I kept it shorter and more mysterious.

After a lot of texting and trying to set up a date, I finally met her. I barely remembered what she looked like since it was almost two weeks after meeting her in a five minute daygame set.

A long ass exchange that was worth it

I bounced her to a bar nearby. I focused on being dominant and sexual from the get go. I wanted to set the right frame from the start. And even though I felt a bit fake and clumsy, it worked. She was on her back foot, which is where I wanted her, reacting to me. We sat at the bar and I did some regular kino by looking at her hands, examining her shirt, and so on. We were sitting in front of each other in this venue. I worked to keep things sexual.
After one drink I took her to another bar nearby. It was a cosy, dark rooftop bar a 15 minute walk from my place. I had already reserved a table in a secluded area, with sofas. Unfortunately, she sat down in front of me. Me on the sofa, her on a chair. We ordered drinks and some delicious, beef tasting sweet potato fries (she hadn’t had dinner). I started to do more kino. Examining her hands, doing a thumb wrestling match, etc. Any excuse just to touch her. She was comfortable with me touching her, good sign. At one point I told her that I was going to tell her a secret. Then I leaned in and said “When you cross your legs, it makes me very distracted”. She giggled and said “Why?”. Also a couple of times she reacted to the sexual tension I created by saying “You’re creepy”. I responded with “Yeah, maybe”, meanwhile channeling a naughty but innocent school boy with my body language. It’s so simple and such a game cliché, but owning shit tests through agree and amplify is really the best strategy for overcoming them.

Anyway, I want to escalate more, but it’s a bit hard with her sitting across the table from me! I tell her to come over to me. She declines. I try again a bit later. She declines again, and this time gives me another shit test. “So how many girls have you brought here?”. Again, agree and amplify. “I think you’re number, hmm… Nine hundred and thirty four? Yeah that’d be right.” She laughs. The third time I tell her to come over to me, I say it more calmly. Something like “It’s alright, don’t worry, I’m not going to bite you, everything’s going to be fine, get over here.”. She says “The table is over here”, pointing at the table in front of her (she was still eating her fries), a logically retarded remark since I was sitting at the same table, just on the other end. I pointed this out to her (no, I didn’t call her logically retarded), whereupon she said “If I can sit by the table (it was a small table) I’ll come over there. Sure thing! I moved out of the way so that she could sit near the table. Now we were next to each other. I start touching her legs and hands as I talk, and at one point, I just grab her hand and hold it. It’s a little awkward, but she takes it. Some more baby stepping, me holding my arm around her, pulling her in, and soon we are making out. I expected her to be more shy because of her Asianness, but apparently Singaporean Chinese girls are less sexually retarded than their Chinese or Malaysian national counterparts. We make out and I start seeding the pull with my now trademarked melodica bounce. “Do you play any instruments? Piano? Do you know what a melodica is? It’s like a piano but you blow into it. I have one with me here. It’s really cool. If you pick a song, I’ll play it for you. BUT, you have to promise me one thing. When I’m done, you have to clap for me, otherwise I’ll get very disappointed and sad. Deal? Alright.” DON’T say “let’s go to my place” after you’ve done this routine. Simply talk about something else, and when the time is right, tell her that you should go, and take her straight to your place without telling her where you’re going.

That’s exactly what I did. Now, the funny thing is, she actually thought we were going to the metro station. She told me we were going the wrong way. I told her “Let’s go to my place first, it’s really close.” Then, I said something like “I’ll play you that song on the melodica. But remember, you HAVE to clap for me (putting it on her, occupying her mind, leading)”. When she said she was going to work tomorrow I said “Don’t worry, it’ll just be 10 minutes, then we’ll go”. What I’ve found that the thing that matters here in getting her to comply is how dominant you’ve been during the date. If you’ve crushed her frame and she’s completely in her world, you’ve stacked the odds in your favour. On the other hand, if you’ve been a pussy with the escalation and she’s directing the conversation, she’ll easily derail the train. That’s what girls are made to do, try to derail the train and make sex not happen, to see if you are man enough to not wobble under pressure. It’s biology. So lead hard throughout. She complied, not that much verbally, but she was physically continuing to walk with me, which is enough. I kept talking about bullshit to calm her down and keep her mind occupied, just blabbering on about anything I could think of. I kept doing this all the way into the flat.

Inside my room, it was easy. I simply played her a song (Toxic by Britney Spears, lol), got her to sit next to me and taught her to play a little bit, escalated, kissed her and then fucked her. No LMR. She was a bit boring in bed, but at least very compliant. Oh yeah, and she bled quite a bit (she was very tight), so now my bed looks like it’s occupied by either a masochistic emo kid or a nude menstruating woman.

I apologise for not having a pic this time. She’s not in her WhatsApp pic and I have yet to internalise the lame and semi creepy PUA selfie manoeuvre. The bloody sheets will do this time, enjoy you sick bastards ;-).

Sex is not for the squeamish

FIELD REPORT (Got out of the friend zone)

I had an instant date a couple of days ago with a Singapore girl. She was super awkward and shy but receptive to my kino (measuring her wrist size etc) so I number closed and texted with her. She tries to friend zone me over text. I get annoyed but when I see that she seems to want to meet me I decide “fuck it, there’s no loss in trying anyway”.

Hot enough to risk disappointment

I get slightly butthurt by her LJBF suggestion but decide to meet her anyway.

Here’s what happened on the date:
She came to the date and even though she brought up the friends bullshit on the date too I could read from her facial expressions that she liked me. Also, she was wearing perfume, she had a skirt on, make-up, lipstick etc. Still, she was extremely non sexual. She would let me touch her but it was generally awkward and didn’t feel reciprocated at all. So my mind was a bit confused. One second I thought it was on, the other not. Randomly she brings up how this guy hit on her on the street, and how when she said nothing would ever happen between them, he’d just left her. This was a clue. We keep talking. It’s pretty awkward. I think, “this is going nowhere, fuck it” and said to go after this drink. She says “to where?” and looks at me. I start thinking to myself “Let’s just try to pull, you’ve heard about how Asians are awkward in public”. So I talk about playing music, and how I have this awesome melodica at home. I tell her I’ll play her a song on it under ONE condition which is that she has to clap when I’m done. She says okay, and I say that we should go. She says, “where’s your melodica, it’s not here”, I say “we’ll get it”, she says “from your place?” and I reply “yeah”. She smiles. Instead of waiting to see if she’s cool with it I just assume she is and go to pay the bill. This was super effective as I’m sure I would have gotten objections had I stalled.

We get to my place, on the way she asked if it’s dangerous for her to come. I told her about my tiger that might eat her. She said she likes tigers and I told her maybe she can tame him. Inside, she’s quite stiff. I play the melodica, she likes it I think. Then we watch some youtube clips and I have her sit next to me, holding my arm around her. Still pretty awkward. I call it out at some point, genuinely empathising and saying that I don’t want to make her uncomfortable and if she doesn’t fancy me I won’t be upset if she leaves. At one point I even go “do you want to just go? I won’t get mad.” The fact that she stayed made me feel better about continuing.

At one point I play the “stare into each others eyes while holding hands for 10 seconds game”. She can’t hold eye contact very well as she’s extremely shy. I try to kiss close her at the end of it. She’s really uncomfortable with it and says it’s too fast. I empathise, and back off. At least now I know I’m not friend zoned, or else she wouldn’t say it’s too fast, she’d say she’s not feeling it or something like that.

We decide to watch a movie. We sit next to each other for a while before I start moving her hair to the side. She pulls away. I start massaging her with my far hand on her shoulder and keeping the near arm around her. I go for it again and get it. She’s super clumsy and awkward but is into it. We keep kissing for a while, no tongue. Then in the movie, the adolescent actors go “have you evver french kissed? It’s with the tongue”, “no, want to try?”. And I look at her and say, “yeah let’s try it”. And we do. I start escalating harder, and get each one of her items of clothing off with 2 steps forward, 1 step back, down to her panties. She’s jerking me off and stuff but won’t blow me. Apparently I’m the second guy she’s ever been with. When I get to the panties I feel she has a pad under it. She’s menstruating and I try to push for sex anyway but resistance is quite strong. I make her cum using my leg and finish on her myself, creating a huge mess, haha.

Now here’s the interesting part. I asked her in the elevator on the way to her cab: “why did you say we should meet as friends?” and she replied “because this other guy just left me when I said nothing would ever happen”. So apparently, it was just her way of testing if I was only after sex. Weird test, because I’m still only after sex and wouldn’t have gone if I was sure about being friend zoned, but that was her reasoning. Not a notch but a fun experience! Besides I’m pretty sure I can see her again in a couple of days and seal the deal.