I was still focusing on women in my age range, mostly women ages 30 to about 45 (I was 35), which meant I was dealing with lots of ASD and sexual resistance. Yet, I was still getting occasional, sporadic results because I was putting in the numbers hardcore and was being as confident and outcome independent as I could, despite the fact my game was pretty shitty, mostly revolving around taking women out to dinner; a terrible idea if your goal is to get to sex quickly.
During this time, a cute, blonde, 31 year-old named Heather messaged me on Match.com. Usually, the women messaging me first were ugly or overweight, but surprisingly, Heather seemed pretty cute. During our messaging and text communication, she was very sharp, sarcastic, and witty. I liked it. I scheduled a first date with her easily.
We met up at a bar attached to a restaurant downtown (no dinner, thank god), and as soon as I got a good look at her in the lights of the evening, I was flabbergasted. She was ridiculously beautiful, far better than her pictures had indicated, and was an exact duplicate of the Christy Template, so she was exactly my physical type. Short, blonde, brown eyes, trim body, big ass, decent boobs, beautiful face, and an amazing smile. It was as if a more intelligent and attractive version of Christy had been resurrected from my past and was standing there right before me. I had hit the jackpot, or so I thought.
We talked for a few hours (too long for a first date!), sitting in one of the darker booths in the back of the bar. She wasnât as feminine as I liked; she had been raised in the rural Midwest so there was a slight masculine, redneck edge to her that I didn’t love. However, she was very intelligent and whip-sarcastic, which was a huge plus. I hadnât yet calibrated my conversational style for women and dating, and many women have trouble keeping up with me verbally when Iâm in my natural state, but she had no problem. It was nice. No kissing or hugging or sex at the end of the date; I just said goodbye. (I had no idea at the time that this was actually the best thing to do.)
We met up again just for about 20 minutes a few days later, just to chat in a parking lot and exchange some real estate information (she liked looking at new houses). My horniness was off the charts. I wanted to kiss her badly right then and there, and grab that huge ass, but I was too fearful. Still with lots of beta male within me, much of my pussiness reasserted itself, and I couldnât bring myself to escalate.
Oh well. The third meet was the charm. We met up at a furniture store and took a look around as our âdate.â Very, very big mistake, since nothing fires up provider hunter tendencies than something like that, but I had no idea at the time.
Afterwards, weâre talking in my car, at night, in the parking lot, and I finally mustered up the courage to kiss her. She was, hands down, the best kisser I had ever kissed up until that point. She used her tongue in just the right way I liked. Holding her in my arms was an orgasmic experience. Her eyes were the most beautiful things I had ever beheld (again, up until that point).
My inner caveman took over, as it usually does, and I started getting very aggressive. Instead of scaring her, she liked it. Soon, we had moved to the back seat of the car and got more sexual, though no clothing came off.
That very next morning, I was planning on leaving for Las Vegas, by myself, for some blackjack fun. We were already right by the airport and my plan was to stay over in the airport hotel, then leave the next morning. As I held her in the back seat of my car, panting, my horniness a volcano, I asked her to come to the hotel with me and spend the night. She responded with âI donât know.â
I asked her again. She wavered.
I asked her again, harder this time. She just looked into my eyes and said nothing.
I asked her again, a fourth time. She said âOkay.â
Lesson Number Nine
Persist. Ask. Then Ask again. Then ask again. The odds are good that eventually sheâll say yes even though her first answer is no.