Well, goodness me. It’s has been an eventful weekend. Not normally one to propagate weekend or night game, I’m starting to see it’s appeal. Least of all, despite the mass utilisation of technology in dating, it seems the digital variety only serves as a series of weak fixes to satiate the ever hungry appetite of females for attention; nothing can beat the real life hit of uneven gender ratios & legions of desperate men of the weekend club.
These vast pools of attention are far too tempting for a lot of woman to avoid & they dress up for optimal absorption; meaning a number of pleasing sights & potential on offer.
Friday; on the back of a relatively quiet week, post workout & preparing to work an additional day over the weekend, I get the bus home. Actually content to have a quiet night to myself. Living in a place where everyone tries to leave for the weekend, I find myself at the front of the bus, next to a fat old woman & seemingly little else of interest. I revert to reading the news on my phone, the bus slowing for the next stop. As the bus slows to a stop, the usual bustle of people shuffling around getting on, off & out the way takes place. The seat in front of me comes available but choosing not to move, a girl suddenly jumps into the seat. I find myself looking at her for a little more time than usual, but I realise not consciously as she starts to speak;
Smiling Girl: Sorry, did you want to sit?
Unjaded: Ah no, please.
Smiling girl: OK thanks.
I don’t know why, but we seemed to have a natural affinity. She was pretty, slim & for some unidentifiable reason, I felt compelled to speak to her, although it wasn’t a conscious ice breaker.
Unjaded: How are you?
Smiling Girl: I’m fine thank you. And you?
A quite natural conversation then emerged, mostly straightforward but with a superb backhanded compliment I unconsciously slipped in about how we both wouldn’t fit on the seat, which left her wondering if it was actually a compliment or not. As she actually seemed genuinely nice, I let her have that one later, saying we wouldn’t have fit because despite her being slim, I take up quite a bit of space. All innocuous at this stage of course; after this strange compulsion initially to speak with her, I did of course realise she was very pretty & seemed pleasant. Her stop came quickly, so I decided to be direct & see if she’d like to give me her number. She did, & I jumped back on another bus to go back home. ‘That went well & felt pretty natural’ I thought.
Arriving home, I decided to take a leaf out of Zan’s book & double up for the evening. Or more accurately, triple up. After some sustenance, I went out for a walk. The plan was to see Bulgarian Bass Player (BBP) who was playing a couple of miles away, say hello & then go into town to meet Party Albanian. Off I went, enjoying being out the cold but fresh evening air.
I arrived at the gig where BBP was playing, coincidentally seeing a Ukrainian girl I’d almost fucked when I’d first arrived in this new country & had pussy practically thrown at me. In the beginning I was beating them off with a stick, having to choose between about five women who all wanted me exclusively. After taking advantage of this popularity in full, my situation was showing the disadvantages of the machine gun game, except I was being quite passive. That experience taught me about the euphoria stage; the initial period when a woman is very excited about you can lead to all types of fun, providing you don’t make any massive fuck ups & crucially; if you have enough time. I hadn’t had enough time then, spreading myself too thinly, banging someone she was semi-friends with resulting in Ukrainian slipping the net.
After a brief chat with her & the guy who’d hoovered her up into his house to become his de facto wife (she now had no job & was living in his house rent free for the last five months), I reflected on my recent piece about sniper game & machine gun game, & moved on to the bar BBP was in. It was a rock bar, with all the usual suspects; drunk middle age men with empty bravado, some reasonable looking alternative younger people, a couple of tattooed biker dudes who looked like the immediate stereotype popping into your head when you started reading that sentence & finally, the band people. It looked like a two piece acoustic performance; a bass & guitar. I saw BBP & greeted her from distance. I noted she looked a little surprised, despite me already telling her I’d come say hello.
After waiting for a few minutes, she came over & spoke to me, kissing me on both cheeks – the standard greeting between different sexes where I am. Given this girl was giving me a excellent blow job a week previously, I was surprised at this. She quickly clarified;
BBP: I can’t kiss you on the lips. The guitarist there? It’s my ex boyfriend.
I wasn’t really shocked, because firstly it may well be still a professional relationship, but mainly because I am used to eventually discovering a caveat at some point with every woman by now. I totally maintained my frame & enquired further.
Unjaded: Isn’t that weird? Playing with your ex?
BBP: Yeah, it’s a bit awkward but we’re trying to make it work.
Quite successfully it seemed, given they’re on stage together. In addition to the surprise she’d exhibited earlier, I noted a biker dude nearby had jumped over to the guitarist to say something to him, obviously speaking about me because of the eye movement & contact from both of them. I wasn’t concerned for my safety; there’s no man I fear, although professionals could kick my ass. Aside from that, I’m fully confident against anyone & irrespective of that, ninety five percent of men are all talk anyway when it comes to a confrontation. Just watch when you turn your back, as there’s a lot of cowards out there who’ll tool you up when you’re not looking.
In fairness though, she’d addressed that she wasn’t openly affectionate with me immediately. I wasn’t entirely convinced but I have been in the music industry myself for over eight years, so I knew the challenges attractive female musicians face. I wished her good luck for the remainder of the show & asked her to message me later when she finished. The message was a little test. Enjoying the sharp yet cooling evening, off I went to destination two; a bar in the middle of town where Party Albanian was residing.
I haven’t mentioned Party Albanian yet so a little background summary. Originally met online about a week. Was hot & cold. Got number, followed by more hot & cold. Didn’t bother wasting any more time, only to of course hear back. Arranged a drink, followed by some sushi one night, where she was heavily flirting with me. Body regularly being pushed against mine, lips being pushed close. Found out from eighteen to twenty five she’d done some solid party fucking, followed by twenty five to thirty four (current age) in relationships, the last of which was with a guy who’d clearly employed the classic ‘treat a woman like shit & she’ll stand by you’ routine with great success. I left the night with a kiss & was supposed to be taking her to dinner later that week.
The day of the dinner came. During that day, I’d suggested Indian for the evening, to which she’d said she wasn’t up for. So, given her highly affectionate behaviour earlier in the week, I thought I’d try a quick escalation by suggesting I make her dinner at my place instead. That seemed to go down badly, as she sent me a volley of messages expressing her disapproval, as to her it was clear I might try to fuck her.
Yes love, that’s precisely the thing that differentiates my friends & I from relationships. God forbid, I might actually want to engage in intercourse with you. Presumably you essentially want to fuck me too, otherwise you wouldn’t have been throwing yourself at me the first time we met. What was particularly amusing about our exchange is she seemed to have a problem with me propositioning her to come to my place on our third meeting, as this was ‘player’ behaviour, I was informed.
Hmm I see. Should I mention to her the way she was dressed & acting on our first date indicated her physical interest in me? Or that she clearly looks like a party girl says to me, she looks like she’s up for it? No I don’t, because I don’t pass judgement on anyone based on their look, choice of fashion or demeanor. While I can understand certain behaviours might be picked up upon over time to make me appear to be a ‘player’ (whatever the fuck that means anyway), I’m fucking sick of being judged before I’ve even said a word, on being either a player or gay, because for example I put a lot of effort into looking after myself & the perception is the typical man does not.
Anyway, that could warrant a whole article by itself. Getting back on track, I arrived & greeted her. She wasn’t really able to return the greeting before her having to handle a young drunk girl, who sneered at me as I introduced myself. Her punishment was being her, judging from the state of her; disheveled & embittered at the world at only the age of what looked like twenty two. I actually felt sorry for the drunk girl.
Party Albanian returned & affectionately greeted me. In person, the disagreements we’d had earlier melted away into affectionate playful anger as she again started getting very close & personal again. I stayed an hour, met a friend of hers & then said my goodbyes as I had to work again on the Saturday. She wanted to meet as soon as possible.
On the way home, I chatted with a couple of random women I’d met online, making arrangements with an older US woman to meet after her party Saturday night. From our exchanges, I’d got the strong impression she’d got divorced recently, had left the US & was now working her way through some European cock; frequent references to partying, how she enjoyed meeting different cultures / people, & was enjoying her ‘new life travelling’. ‘Whatever’ I thought, I arranged a late evening meeting with her after her party the following night. On the way home, I messaged Smiling Girl, who also happily agreed to meet me the following evening. Early start the next day, so time for some well deserved sleep.
I worked Saturday. Arriving early, I went into the building & saw the fairly young Security who I’d often said hello to since she’d joined a year ago. She was always friendly & down to earth, something I can appreciate a lot in a girl. We’d been for a drink one evening which went well & she told me she’d enjoyed it a lot, so we had each others numbers too. Today, she was there not for me but because some minor construction work was taking place, so there were a couple of construction guys in the building. It was nice to see a friendly face with the building being deserted aside from ourselves. She was shyly embarrassed by thinking she looked rough in the early hours of the day, but I assured her there was nothing to worry about. There’d always been some chemistry between us, despite her not having the type of figure I usually go for. As I’ve said before, a good personality can really make the difference, regardless of looks. It follows the classic idea of people only doing business with those they like – with an adaptable personality you can control it to a a degree as the best salesmen do, but like them you must always be in control of yourself so as to maintain the illusion you are trying to create. It can be tiring for some though, particularly if you’re having to drastically shift from a more natural state to achieve a longer term goal involving someone.
Fortunately there was none of that with Security. I had to rush to my desk to register my arrival on the client side, but soon after went to the kitchen to get a coffee where we met each other again. We had a good chat without any significant depth. I went back to my desk. She messaged me on my personal number, telling me if I didn’t have to stay at my desk I was welcome to join her upstairs. Unfortunately I was at the mercy of reacting to emails when my side of what we were testing was ready & so chained to my desk. I did mention she was welcome to join me though.
It was only fifteen minutes before she was sat next to me, where we proceeded to discuss whatever came to mind. I threw in some mild compliments & flirting. I’ve tended to drift away from direct compliments to girls as it doesn’t generally yield anything or have a positive effect – rather just reinforcing her view you have to earn what’s between her legs (her main bargaining chip), increasing her perception of what you have to do in order to ‘earn’ that. However Security was obviously a humble girl, as was confirmed to me the more we spoke. A humble twenty four year old French girl with north African parents, working this job as a step to her actual goal. She reminded me of myself before I became a consultant, & I was pleased to have some company for something involving a lot of waiting but mostly not being able to leave my desk.
We chatted on throughout the day, her leaving occasionally to address queries from the builders. I had a substantial window while the system ran a time consuming process, so I went to the gym in the bottom of my building. I went through my uneventful workout & made my way back upstairs to the office. On the way, I prepared the following message;
Unjaded: Help, I need security!
Unjaded: I’m in the downstairs shower…
Unjaded: …And can’t wash my back!
I didn’t see her on the way in, so I made my way down to the shower, leaving the door intentionally unlocked & before I’d even started getting undressed, fired off the first message. It wasn’t long before I received a reply…