"He basically changed his whole life for me," Nina explained, referencing her recent break up with a guy she had cheated on 3 times in the last 3 months "and I just couldn't deal with that." Adam, Nina's now-ex, had always been her biggest cheerleader, and the more I read about Red Pill theory, the more I knew this was inevitable. Just two weeks earlier, Nina explained to me how she had decided to "grow up and stop being a whore" and get back together with Adam. On the surface, Adam appears to be a man's man who wears Carharts and cowboy boots when he's not riding his Harley or drilling with his Army Reserve unit... which, I suspect, is how he was able to land a babe like Nina in the first place. Deep down, however, he's a beta bitch who will let a woman walk all over him only to leave him because he's covered in nasty footprints.

All this, of course, is unrelated to what followed... but I thought it was a nice prelude all the same.

As she explains all this to our mutual friend, Jess, I keep my beer at face level to conceal my shit-eating grin (unsuccessfully). Six months ago, I might have judged Nina for her cruel and ruthless behavior towards Adam, but today this story doesn't make me think less of her. I simply remind myself that AWALT, and we can continue being famous friends. In this moment, I realize that TRP has, in a way, helped my preserve my respect for women simply by making peace with who they are and how they behave, and that any notion that TRP is "misogynist" is not only false, but the complete reverse is true... but I digress.

Over the course of the next 15 minutes or so, I watch curiously as Nina tries to set Jess up with another member of my group. "We need to get you laid," Nina says to Jess. Okay, I'll bite: "Jess, don't you have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Jess sighs, "Nina hates my boyfriend, so she's trying to set me up with someone else." She declines to offer anything more than that, but I have bookmarked this info for later use. Jess is a cute, petite ginger with gigantic tits, so the fact that she's loading up on proverbial carousel tokens is of great interest to me. I barrage her with rapid-fire "dad jokes" (my specialty), and let her work her fingernails in my scalp (her specialty). Kino ensues, and before long she's sitting on my lap. Although she has my full attention, I don't miss an opportunity to do a little dirty dancing with Nina in front of her. Good times are had by all.

The end of the evening draws nigh, and we all depart for the parking lot. Jess is leaving town on Sunday (this is on Thursday night), so plans are made for last goodbyes, etc... I can't quite figure out how to close, but I figure I'll see if I can finish what I've started tomorrow. Five minutes later, as I'm driving home, I get a text from Nina: "Argh, so close! She definitely likes you!". She gives me Jess' number, and I call her and we have this conversation:

Me: "Hey, Nina gave me your number"

Jess: "Yeah, she does that..."

Me: "Hey, since you're leaving forever... which is a damn shame... you want to hook up?"

Jess: "Sure. Text me tomorrow."

...Really? FUCKING REALLY??? That's all I had to do was say "Hey, let's fuck"? While sex was inevitable at this point, I was hesitant to count this as a win, because were it not for Nina's intervention, I would have most definitely spent the weekend lifting weights and jerking off as needed. In light of this, I decide that this is not a time for celebration, but for introspection, and for a review of what I did wrong. Here's what I came up with (feel free to add anything I may have missed):

  • Be direct. Fortune favors the bold. I said the tackiest yet most direct thing I could think of and somehow it worked.

  • If someone sits on your lap, there's zero ambiguity in that. I have often mistaken friendliness for attraction, but this is one of the few acts I can think of that is never the result of someone who simply has a friendly personality.

  • When people start talking about "taking off", you make like Alec Baldwin in Glengarry Glen Ross and you close... not unlike how when the bartender says "last call" you get another beer. Worst case scenario, you're told to bugger off and you're subjected to a full ten seconds of awkwardness before you go home like you were going to anyway.

  • "I have a boyfriend" is a statement that means exactly fuck all. Now that I think about it, I know many women who habitually say this to would-be courtesans even though it isn't true... but even if it is, she can most likely be persuaded to make room in her life for some alpha cock with little or no badgering.

...Okay, so I messed up... but I refuse to let one mistake beget another. We start texting the next day, which eventually turns into sexting. This is the easy part... except I think she was a little nonplussed by the fact that I almost let her go, so she tries to psych me out: "I'm going to go hop in the shower... and I'm wondering how good in bed you are, and my expectations are pretty high, since you're a Marine."

I respond: "You won't be when I fuck you until you forget your own name. You're welcome to mull that over while you're in the shower, BTW." It was the most alpha response I could think of on the fly. While she has actually succeeded in making me doubt myself a little bit, this changes once clothes start coming off and I remember "Oh, that's right, I'm pretty fucking good in bed!"

One night stand. We fuck three times over the next 10-ish hours, and then go our separate ways. She demands a repeat performance the following night, I deliver. She leaves Sunday morning, and I think "Well, that's the end of that."

...But no. She gets there and she's sending me nude photos of herself. She's just moved in with her boyfriend and she's sending me pictures of her twat. She lives a good six hours away and this isn't going to turn into anything sexually/romantically or otherwise, but it's strange and a little surreal. Is this the sort of thing I can expect in the future? I sincerely hope so.

Thanks, TRP.