Night of the 12th

Last night I decided that it might be worthwhile to go out with some college people (not really friends, but I really wanted to go out) and we ended up in a club on their weekly student night, which means big mixed groups and general cliquey shit. We’d already been to a bar for a quick drink so due to my complete lack of tolerance for beers I was already feeling a nice slight buzz. The company was boring, however – they seemed to have zero desire to go and get large amounts of pussy (same for getting dick for the girls with us) and at this point I was pining for my game-aware friend to come back (he’d visited and had left the day before) so we could have that special Bonobo Times-Minotaur type relationship like on that famous RSD Nation thread. Everyone seemed like they ‘just wanted to dance’. Gay. Who the fuck goes to a club and doesn’t want to get laid and instead dances to 90s hits in an ‘ironic’ way? I mean the choice here is between standing a decent chance of ending the night in the warm confines of a vagina, or despondently shuffling home, reminded of your complete worthlessness and lack of self-belief when it comes to the only thing that actually matters – getting laid. I don’t give a fuck that I have no game, no looks and absolutely no money, I will try and get ass when I can because I’m actually honoring the sole purpose of my existence.

Anyway, enough of this. We went in and I stayed with the group for a bit. Damn. Not beasting. Pulled out the phone, read my favourite YaReally and immediately the shots girl came along. WARMUP TIME! I told her to go away, we didn’t want the shots, and to fuck off with a beaming smile so she knew I was just messin’. She leaned in and asked where I was from. I said Antarctica. Is that where I learned my manners from? Yep, those penguins can be nasty assholes. All the while a dude from my group came in and started apologizing for me, who is this chode.

After another few minutes it was obvious that nobody here a.) particularly liked me very much and b.) was up for a night of beasting. I went Super Saiyan and started professing my love to the ladies of the night, and asking them to marry me. The first few approaches were 90% belief, so they tanked. After the third one (and with me pissed about my slow noob lack of physicality) I reached the 100% mark and dragged some girl to the dance floor. Put her arms around me, went for the makeout inside the minute, laser eye contact. She leaned back. Kept talking and violating her with my stare. Went in for the makeout again, still she leaned back. I thought maybe someone she knows is watching, I’ll try and move her to a different part of the club. Nope. What was up with her? I felt that I wasn’t getting  anywhere so I prematurely ejectulated (no typo) and went off to hit on some others, one of which similarly denied me another makeout. Dammit. I wasn’t really interested in where the other people were (90s hits have little appeal to me), so my shoulders slumped and I went home.


Because I don’t intend on ever browbeating myself, here are the positives in the night’s performance.

  1. I managed to fully unstifle and get into state completely on my own, and without being at all drunk.
  2. My physical game is improving! Comfort zone being pushed here.
  3. Not scared of showing intent! This is what it’s all about. That rush you get when you show intent completely shamelessly.

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