I've read several posts here that basically boil down to "why aren't I doing well with women". I'm nothing like an expert but my basic response is, "If you had just reassembled a Swiss wristwatch and it didn't run, would you post to /r/swisswristwatches and ask 'I reassembled a Swiss wristwatch and it doesn't run'? No, it's a complicated activity and there are about a million things that can go wrong. The three most important things on your side are

  • luck
  • practice
  • luck

So I failed the fastest, most accidental shit-test ever and I thought I'd tell everyone about it.

I don't think shit-tests are usually intentional. The girl is just squirming a bit, she's not sure she should be responding as strongly as she is, and at some level, she's trying to escape.

So she does something or says something that gives you the opportunity to fuck it up. Obviously, the more experienced you are at this (and, yes, the more luck you are) the less likely you are to fuck up.

I met this girl, let me call her Hope, at a breakfast place, where I was talking to a 2-set. Either I was doing a terrible job with the 2-set or they were (as I was beginning to suspect, physical appearances notwithstanding) not a 2-set at all but a lesbian couple. Hope asked me to pass the salt from my table.

I warmed to Hope right away because I couldn't help noticing she was incredibly fucking stunning gorgeous. She would have been totally out of my league, except no one is out of my league! I chat her up, turns out she's the manager of a large hotel in a faraway city and in town for some conference. It's like 10 am, so I make a date with her for that evening.

I figure, perfect, right? Out of town, up for a fun night. Dinner went nicely (I realize taking her to a fancy dinner is something of an AFC thing, but what the hell, I was hungry). Afterwards, we sneak up on the roof of the 60-story building the restaurant was in the ground floor of. It was just-barely raining and we could see the whole city. We were laughing and having fun.

I'm giving her her space, letting her enjoy the night air while I look casually over the rail, but she walks up to me, stands right in front of me. Her face was maybe, maybe!, six inches from mine. And she was just devastatingly beautiful.

So I reached out and put my hands on her hips. Nothing more intimate than that. But she reacted.

She didn't say anything, she didn't move. Maybe she stiffened a little, but her eyes shot open in pure surprise.

That was the test. She didn't mean it as a test, it was involuntary, but a test it was and I failed it.

Because I did the natural thing: I let go. I dropped her like she was hot. Pulled my hands back. I apologized. And then she apologized. And we both apologized some more.

The evening didn't end. We laughed about it, went out and had drinks, even a carriage ride. All that couldn't erase the failed test, the big red F. I had a split-second to decide and did the wrong thing and we went our separate ways.

The right thing would have been a nod and the shadow of a smile and the gentlest possible kiss. Next time.