I’m out on Friday night with three old uni friends I haven’t seen since before Christmas. There are already a bit monged on champagne before I roll in at 9:30 but we have a good chat about normal men’s things. After a couple drinks we roll on to an Islington bar with a meat market vibe. The male/female ratio is about even so there’s a bunch of 5, 6s and 7s shaking their asses and waving their arms on the dancefloor while nervous-looking young professional guys try to come onto them. For all it’s fascinating people-watching potential I’m just focused on my continued inebriation. I find myself propped up against the bar opening three different girls who order drinks next to me. The last one hooks well.
Peering through my beer-goggles, she looked like this
I’m a douchebag. The whole pick-up is on auto pilot where I’m dimly aware of the model I’m following but it’s never at the front of my mind. I insult her alot in the first five minutes but it’s all smirky-asshole stuff that she likes. So she plants herself next to me and allows it all to happen. The next hour is a blur. I know I remain rooted to the same spot without moving while she does a couple of takeaways (the effect of which is nil, because I can see her staring at me from across the room the whole time). Her bolshy little friend comes over twice to evaluate me, the first time she’s friendly the second time there’s bluster: “Did you just tell my friend you wanted to fuck her in the ass and spit on her hair?”
Easily dealt with and she leaves us to it. By the thirty-minute mark she’s doing a full-body press against me and subtle grinding of her pussy against my legs, kissing, and grabbing my cock. I flip between outrageous dirty-talk, douchebag push-aways, and feigned naivety. I put it at 70/30 that I can SNL her but at crunchtime little Bolshy comes back with her gang and drags her away: “Take his number and we’re leaving”. Nothing I can do. Bolshy is clearly mother hen.
Bolshy is the one on the right
I’m so drunk I scoff a Big Mac (my first ever) and pay £30 for a taxi home rather than find a nightbus. As I’m eating, I start up the text game. Note she’s an English girl (remember, the type my game “doesn’t work on”) so I’m able to use the full nuance of my language:
Me: Is your leopard-printed pointy-fingered (but kinda cute) friend still angry and pointy? [frame the cockblock for what she was, but without being resentful]
Her: Hehehehehe, nah it’s cool, we’re at another bar right now… They like this one better ð are there any other gals or guys you’d like to fuck in the ass over in Angel? Be honest ð [she’s still turned on, and still loved the anal sex idea and my outrageousness]
Me: Fucking loads of ’em. You’ve slipped to 13th place in the queue. [douchebag push]
Me: Which, technically, makes you unlucky. My apologies… still like your smell, though [I’m the prize. Push-pull]
Her: Hehe ð [reward]
Her: Is this you trying to be smooth? [banter]
Her: It’s kinda funny ð [shit test]
Me: Sorry. I’m terrible with girls. I hope you don’t bust me for being a virgin. [agree and amplify]
Me: Pretend you never read that [feigned naivity and confusion]
Me: So… um… what do you think of Greece’s continued membership in the euro? [de-escalate in tongue-and-cheek manner, drop in implicit contrast game that I’m not just a sexually aggressive douchebag but I’m also educated]
Her: Haaaahaaaa… I knew you were a virgin, I could smell it on your neck, taste it on your lips and feel it on your dick ð [playing along, getting herself off on remembering me sexually]
Her: And I think the euro is ridiculous ð [a knowing wink at what I was doing]
Me: It was the hover-hand wasn’t it? [keep going with the thread]
Me: I knew it! I should’ve just collected my courage and put my finger up your chuff [feigned cowardice and regret, in contrast to what she knows was strong bold intent]
Me: Then my thumb
Her: Haaaahahaaa! It’s like Fort Knox down there… It wouldn’t have ever happened! But Ilike the visuals your descriptions are providing ð [She’d told me she hadn’t had sex since April 2011]
Her: You’re not bad for a 42 yr old! [callback humour to a game we played, she’s rapport seeking and obliquely IOIing]
Me: If you knew what your imaginary self was doing to my imaginary cock right now, you’d get a touch of the vapours. [blame her for the sexual escalation]
Her: Oh you’ve got a dirty lil mind. [approval]
Me: I’m innocent. It’s your slutty imaginary self taking advantage of me. I’m almost shocked. [feigned naivity, position her as seducing me]
Me: Almost
Her: You kinda called me a slut… I should be offended
Her: Should [girls love being slutty about sex when given permission]
Me: You scandalise me. Stop talking about sex. There will be no more talk about my rock hard dick invading your sweet little pussy. None of that talk at all. [push-pull]
Her: So… um… what do you think of Greece’s continued membership in the euro? ð [callback humour, rapport-seeking, signalling a willingness to follow my lead]
Me: Referendum, default on the debt, return to the drachma… and “go greek” on the next hot bird dumb enough to put her ass within banging distance of my dick. [contrast game]
Me: Should I spell out who that bird is, or can I rely on your social acuity to start getting wet on the intimation? [assumed the sale on her being wet for me]
Her: No no… No need as I got that from the moment I laid eyes on you… And you made me quite wet earlier on, I’m still kinda wet… But not as wet ð so I will have to rely on my imagination it seems [reliving the moment to extend her pussy tingle]
Her: I have an amazing imagination!!!! [qualification]
So this was an SNL candidate that never quite got there. Not sure if I’ll see her again. I’ll be leaving the country again soon and I suspect the escalation went past the point of no return regarding buyers remorse. We’ll see.
