Hey everybody! Long time no posts! I've been busy getting out in the field, making new experiences. Despite the rush of posts in the past few weeks, I had to give myself some time to have some new experiences! These things don't just grow on trees! Anyhow, without further ado, my latest report on my blog: Dating American

Long Game: Understanding Situation Changes & Seed Planting

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I recently started hanging out with a new group of people who I was introduced to by a mutual friend this month. In order to benefit as much as possible, I've decided to play the long-game with this group. This will maximize the amount of friends I meet through the group, but it will also help engender comfort between the members of the group and myself, a comfort that may last a considerable amount of time. I'm planting seeds that may turn into becoming a hot commodity.

Understanding the dynamics of a new situation isn't always intuitive. As somebody who has always had a great amount of success with women, finding a strange drop-off in success has tended to send my head spinning. What could be the cause of dry spells?

Growing up in school, you play a long-game that you may never notice or fully realize the effects of. In my early twenties, getting new girls was simple. I had a large pool to pull from, and my high school reputation managed to permeate many different social circles. Re-meeting people at parties or bars would ignite familiarity for these ladies, so reeling in the bait was like shooting fish in a barrel. This is all because of the repeated exposure that I had with girls in school. Whether any of us liked it or not, girls got to learn my personality little bits over a long time. High school fame continues to pop up when I least expect it, a decade later.

College is a great example. You're there to focus on school. Everybody has an objective. A distracting objective. Slowly but surely, you rub off on the people around you. I hear a lot of people mention that their college days were their best. Girls were everywhere, there was never a shortage.

So here you are, out of school, and feeling a bit down on your luck. What has changed? Your situation has changed. You have been reaping the benefits of these repeated long games that you didn't even know you were in. Girls seemed to throw themselves at you, and now, breaking into a girl's world is like pulling teeth. That's because you're at square one of the long game. And the most frustrating part? You didn't realize you've been playing long-game your entire life.

I headed to a bar last week with a small group. Two ladies and three dudes. I already knew it would be a tough up-hill battle with that much sausage present, but getting the gold is never easy.

When we arrived jokes were had, and laughing ensued. Keeping my game face on, I managed to always turn everything the girls said into jokes. For some reason, the blond, Amy, had a very sour disposition. Although she laughed with the jokes and appeared to be having a good time, it seemed as though genuine interaction was lost on her, and the only method of communication she knew with guys was repeated shit tests and put downs. She was off-putting and nervy, but would eventually break after a few seconds into a smile. Knowing this, she was easy to flirt with.

After an off-color joke, I made a slightly sarcastic comment, "I'm so glad we're friends."

"We're not friends," she said to me with a stern look. The group went silent. I knew I had to turn it into a joke, and I needed to publicly display that it was I who was controlling the gates to friendship.

"Well, we're working on that, aren't we? You see friendship is like a building, you start building it by putting blocks into the foundation..."

"What are we, seven? I don't play with blocks!"

"See, Amy, now I have to take blocks away from the foundation. At this rate we're never going to have sex." I smiled and pointed to where the fourth floor should be, "Sex is level four. Don't tear this down. Build it up!"

She finally cracked and the group laughed.

I had to continue reminding myself, you're not gaming Amy. You're gaming the entire group. Your job is to confident in your humor and keep trudging forward no matter what. Nothing anybody at this table can say can affect your emotional state, you're doing your thing, and everybody else can only watch. If you have trouble with long game, repeat this to yourself.

Eventually with continued jokes and never falling victim to the shit tests, the guys in the group started to admire me. I had established my position as somebody with some form of control over women, and they appreciated it. Obviously, no real control, just the ability to flirt in a way that counter-acts every shit test. To the unwitting, it appears to be magic. To myself no more than a few years ago, I'd have said it was magic. Opening my eyes to the subtleties of this covert psychological mechanism has allowed me to realize where I stand in a conversation, where previously I would feel directionless and lost.

Eventually, one of the girls, Ashley, left our table to go talk to a few girls at the bar. I decided to follow.

"Um, why are you over here?" She asked annoyed.

"Oh, the conversation over there was boring. You guys look entertaining."

As a matter of course, I wear suits almost exclusively when I go out. The girl Ashley was talking to looked at me quizzically and asked, "Why are you wearing that suit?"

Before I could answer, Ashley interrupted with the excuse I had given earlier. "He just came from a meeting."

It's true I often have meetings, but in this case I didn't. At this point, it's just assumed, and I let it ride, since it sounds pretty cool.

"Ohhhh, a meeting? What do you do?" She looked at me with wide eyes. The girl sitting next to her also turned and started looking interesting.

Ashley answered again for me, explaining that I was running for a political office. She apparently had heard a lot about me through the grape vine. Interesting. She also explained the service industry that I worked in.

The second girl chimed in, "oh, you do that work? I really could use some help."

"What do you?" I asked.

"I'm a massage therapist." She smiled.

"I think we can work something out..."

She winked and appeared to get what I was putting down. I pulled out my card and flipped it over and asked for her details so we could get in touch. She proceeded to write down the name of her salon, but nothing else. No name, no number. She then handed it back to me.

In the audience of two other girls, it was a higher priority to me to maintain an alpha position for the long game. Perhaps this move was cruel, but obviously this girls' interest in me was already low (i.e. didn't provide information). I took a look at the card and said "Oh, the name of your salon. No number?" I then smiled and flipped the card right side up, exposing my details, handed it back to her and said, "ok, well here's my card. Now we've got each other's information!" And then I walked back to my table.

She was astounded that I just did that. But the message was sent. I don't care about your salon. The other two girls broke out laughing. My value was increasing in the group.

Some phrases I'm starting to get used to, and if you get them, consider them good:

"Where did you find this guy?"

"Where did you come from??"

"How do you know this guy?"

These are phrases I've been getting a lot. My jokes and attitude border on the absurd. I make ridiculous jokes, I don't stop, and my attitude is completely independent of anybody's statements or comments. I'm almost a super hero.

"Did you just see what he did to that girl over there?" Ashley was retelling the business card story. She was astounded anybody would do that. And she loved it.

The night went well, and towards the end, I decided I needed to get home. The group was likely going to stay another hour, but I felt like I was beginning to get sick, so I decided to take my leave. The group had grown, and the table now had about eight people joking and laughing.

I took Ashley's hand and said, "I must go, but I hope this won't be the last time I see you!"

"Of course not!" She replied.

I turned, motioning that I was leaving, when from across the table I heard, "HEY! You're not saying good-bye to me?" It was Amy.

I turned and looked, the group was waiting for a response.

"Amy, Amy. I really don't know what to make of us. I feel like we're either going to kill each other or have passionate sex. Honestly, I'm hoping for both."

The group broke out in laughter as I walked away. I heard a new-comer to the table recite the common theme of the night, "Where did you get this guy? He's ridiculous!"

Just before I walked out the door, I turned, looked back and met eyes with Amy, held up my hand to show my fingers were crossed, and mouthed the words "BOTH!" Then I left.

Money in the bank.

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