For the past two months I’ve been trying really hard to slow things down and not view women as pieces of meat, to just enjoy their company and not always try to bang them quickly. But no matter how hard I try, just knowing I have the ability to make something happen is enough for me to make it happen.
I met a girl at a bar and talked to her for maybe five minutes before I had to leave to catch the Metro. I have been telling myself I was done with numbers but she was cute and Venezuelan so I got it. Besides, I’m going to South America and it will be useful to pick her brain.
On the phone I found out that she is going back home in four days for several months. By the time she returns I will most likely be gone. A girl doesn’t give you her number with one week left if she’s not trying to bang, but I’m done with this casual banging, I said to myself. “How about ice cream?” Just for one hour, to talk.
Man, that night was chilly for ice cream. “Do you want to get a drink instead?” I said. Of course she wanted to. Once we started drinking that sangria I was put into situation that I’m all too familiar with. The auto-pilot switch went on. It starts with touching first, her hands, her arm, barely brushing her legs with mine, then a couple of stories (true stories of course) that indirectly display qualities that she probably wants in a man. Hours pass.
The more time she spends with me, the more my tentacles have a hold on her and the weaker she will get. Yeah, initially she was sitting there in a bar, mostly sober, thinking logically about how she’s not a slut and won’t fuck some guy she just met, but things change.
When I walked her home, I remember she told me earlier in the night that her rooftop has a good view of the Washington Monument and Capitol. Whether she said that purposefully or by accident, I’d be stupid not to use it. “How about you show me that view you were talking about? I can’t stay for very long though.” The time-constraint line came out without conscious thought on my part, just like how you can throw a ball in the air and calculate its mathematical trajectory without thinking of numbers or equations.
Girls can be so full of shit. She’s telling me before how she is going to be busy before she leaves, but then after rooftop moves all of a sudden she’s pretty free the next three days. You can’t go wrong if you ignore everything a woman says and just follow her body language and actions and do what you had in mind.
The way I interact with women has more or less turned into a program. If this, then do that. With any situation that comes up I access a prior experience that helps me determine the best next move, like the Deep Blue chess program would do. It sounds technical and robotic but when you are doing this in the flesh it’s more like art: the girl is digging you and you got this goal you are trying to fulfill and you have no idea how it’s going to turn out. No two girls talk, kiss, or touch the same, and the pathway to bang ends up differently. The guys who are successful with the game are the least robotic because they can quickly adapt to different environments and girls. They have many different ways of getting to the same thing. I understand how the phrase “art of seduction” came about.
So I’m not going to mess with my before sex game. I’m not going to try to get to know girls better and see them as amazing creatures if there is strong physical attraction. As I found out over sangria, my brain won’t allow myself to make an evolutionary backwards step by artificially lengthening the time it takes to get girls into bed. If she’s trying to get banged, she will get banged. We’ll go with the flow (more like rapids) and have at least one memorable night.
