Wednesday.
She was quiet.
She was never quiet. Something was wrong.
"Rough day?" I asked
"No." She said. She wanted me to dig. I would, but not for long and only because this wasn't like her. Firstly, though, I concentrated on my turkey sandwich. Being as broke as a guy can be, purchasing a turkey sandwich, even at TGI Friday's, was something I would cherish and enjoy regardless of whatever LTR/FB bullshit was going on. We sat at a small, square table beside the stairs leading up to the bar area. It was meant to seat four people, but in that weird way. You know, where all your legs are awkwardly touching while you're hovered over your plate, and you can't tell whether your foot is on someone else's shoe or the metal supports for the table so you have to keep looking down to make sure. Definitely not ideal for four guys, but perfect for me and an FB. I love bringing day twos here just for the reason that it's socially appropriate for our legs to touch. I chewed and relished each bite of my child's menu sized sandwich. I comfortably enjoyed the silence. She wasn't having it. I looked up to find her staring at me, with that cute head tilt thing your dog does while you're trying to explain why he shouldn't shit on the rug because it's bad, bad, bad with a finger shake.
Holding eye contact, I took another bite of my sandwich and chewed. I pictured James Bond in "From Russia With Love." I pictured Marlon Brando in "Streetcar Named Desire." I pictured Clark Gable and Tyler Durdan (Fight Club TD), and Dirk Diggler, and even my old natural friend from High School who was Johnny All-American. I pictured all of them, and I wondered how they would act right now; how they would sit. I had known this was going to be weird. I never really do a formal lunch thing with girls excluding a few LTRs from before I entered the community. I only brought them out formally like this when I was cutting things off. I don't know why. Maybe because I haven't developed anything better yet. Or maybe because it's like #1,007 in my list of things I need to improve still. This HB knew what was coming too. She was an intelligent brunette, bout a 7.5 or an 8, with a fantastic personality whom I had met in the middle of May at Sananofre beach.
She was a surfer girl, but didn't have that super-dark tan. She had a lighter skin tone with great complexion and a few scattered freckles around her face and body. Her skin-tone was the kind of slight tan where you can just make out the tan lines when they're lying naked in your bed. I like tan lines. They remind me of the forbidden, and I find that sexy.
"Nice," she had said after I opened her, pointing to the decal of a topless female-devil on my 10' Robert August long board. "I can tell that you're just starting out. If you WERE a surfer, that (the decal) would be a blonde girl."
"Um, 'IT' is actually a SHE, thank you. You may look at women as merely objects, but I like to think of women as people first...Geez. Get it together! Actually, you're right though, she's not my type at all. I'm totally a sucker for blondes. They had these little blonde angels, but the angel thing just isn't my style," I replied.
"Oh you like the bad girls huh?" she said sort of disdainfully, with a lack of flirtation, "Well, too bad. I'm a good, Christian girl." She explained.
"No, no. Didn't you hear me? I'M ATTRACTED TO BLONDES (cupping my hands in a screaming fashion). So don't get the wrong idea. You're, like, totally in my friend zone already (credit BradP). I respect that you're religious though. That's neat-o. I used to be ueber-religious before I started studying philosophy and rational theology. Was raised Catholic actually. Still believe in the whole 'no sex until marriage' thing though."
"NO WAY!" she exclaimed, "You are SOo not a virgin!"
(and I went into my Virgin Except Anal Sex routine)
She spent the next two hours "teaching" me how to surf. I'm not great, but I can hold my own. Still, I let her believe that I was just plain horrible so that she could enjoy teaching me. We flirted, escalated kino. Played push/pull verbally a whole lot. Not just me, but she played too. Still, it was obvious to both of us that it was simply that...just playing. I could have been totally AFC and it would've resulted in a lay. She was majorly investing in me, and it was a solid connection. Definitely a cool chick and fun to hang around. That's why we've been at it this long (I'm not good at keeping FBs around. I usually sabotage it in some way subconsciously. It's an SP I'm working on). I think I've been leading her on to keep her around, but just didn't want to admit it to myself. Not verbally, mind you. I've always talked with her openly and honestly. I run the whole, "I'm just not BF material" routine all the time. I even have this yellow t-shirt depicting a husband and wife cutting a wedding cake with the words 'Big Mistake' written under it. But my sub communication was manipulative I must confess. And I felt bad about that. Now though, I felt that she had sensed this would be an awkward lunch as my response to an ultimatum she had given me three days prior: "Commitment, or no more sex (more or less)." I had stopped calling her for two weeks (part of that sabotage-complex I think, but I always backwards rationalize some reason out of cognitive dissonance. Eventually I'll have to resolve that too.), and this must've been the answer to that. In an earlier time, I would have felt lucky to have found this girl and would probably proclaim her my girlfriend. I'd say it had to be fate. These things just don't 'happen'. Quality girls show up all the time now, and I learned that this was all BS mostly (I actually do have a metaphysical view supporting the idea of fate and destiny, but you get my drift.) She had realized that this was Decision-Time, and it was grabbing a hold of her nerves. She wanted me to either start talking about it or dig for what was bothering her until she brought it up. She was getting all fidgety, eagerly awaiting my decision. ['God I'm self-absorbed now,' says my conscience]
Whatever. I was still going to finish my sandwich first. I started looking around the TGI Friday's at all the sets out of habit and caught an HB8.5's EC at the bar with her friend. I held it as I chewed monotonously the way a horse sort of chews on oats in cartoons, but with my mouth closed. She held it a long time- IOI. She was the typical Laguna Beach gold-digger wife. Had a huge rock on her left ring finger. Whatever, I knew I'd open her after dealing with the FB anyways (foreshadowing to Part II). After she focused back on her friend, whose back was to me, I looked back to my FB also. She had brought out what looked like one big fucking report. Something like 150 typed pages. She worked hard at school. What a cool chick.
"Okay, I bite. What's wrong?" I asked in sort of a 'here we go' tone. But she held EC and remained quiet. It was awkward. I was intimidated actually and looked away first. Why did I feel so guilty? I verbalized how awkward the atmosphere was in sort a narrator way, "It got weird..." It's a sound-byte of mine that usually gets a laugh or two during awkward pauses with groups. But like most sound-bytes, it's hard to understand until you hear the tonality. She didn't laugh, just held EC, but now with her jaw clenched. 'Wow, what the hell was going on?' I thought, awkwardly looking around the room, avoiding her EC. When finally, my eyes settled on the top of the first page in her massive pile.
"GEEW!" (Pronounced like the word hue, but with a 'g') I screamed, eyes wide and body stiff. I could see the first two words of the entire document, but I knew exactly what it every single page read after that. I also knew I had been wrong about everything up to this point. I didn't even want to look up into her eyes. For the first time in a while since entering the community, my intellect didn't know what to do. My instincts didn't know what to do. Even that little voice inside me, the one that helps out just a little every now and then, was hushed. I was ashamed.
"You left your laptop at my house when I took you to school the other day so I could watch Nacho Libre, remember?" She explained. 'Gulp' was the only perceptible reply I gave. We had fallen asleep watching a horrible, bootlegged version of the movie "Click." (Great movie to watch with a girl you've already slept with FYI. Never take a day2 to a movie unless you've already established a connection and are comfortable escalating kino in the theater without talking much.) "Yeah, well remember how I told you I suck with computers? I never did find Nacho Libre. Instead," she picked up the first page to begin reading. I closed my eyes tightly, not wanting to listen.
"Lay Report: Saint Patty's Day. Laid HB8.5 right in front of old AFC friends," she began reading. My mouth simply hung open in shock.
"This is all bullshit. You were never this smooth."
"Huh?" I was lost.
"That day at the beach. You weren't this smooth. You were pretty dorky actually," she explained.
"Really? Are you sure? Cause I'm pretty fucking smooth," I said, taking a sip of water while looking at the TV to feign disinterest. She kept eyeballing one of 'her' papers. "I mean, I must have done something right if I have a girl researching my life like THIS, Detective."
"Hahah, you never kissed me at beach!" she wasn't even paying attention.
"I know."
"See, this is all bullshit," she threw the page at me. It wasn't the right FR. I could tell by the title. The community is always saying that teaching a girl something is a major DHV and generates a lot of attraction. Like at the post office, telling a girl who's licking a stamp something like, 'Hey, did you know that a stamp is 1/10th of a calorie?' or something sorta lame like that. I agree, but letting a girl teach YOU something gets her to invest in you unconsciously. She'll be more inclined to like you afterwards, or to convince herself that she does. She'll ask herself, 'Why did I devote so much time to the interaction? Hmmm, must be because I like him.' This is called backwards rationalization. It's much easier for her to backwards rationalize that she's attracted to you than it is for her to handle the cognitive dissonance of investing in someone for whom she feels indifference or even dislikes. I tend to run the whole 'I don't know how to, will you show me how' thing all the time lately.
"Hey, Genius, check the date. That's not you," I finally started to feel annoyed by all this. She grabbed the paper back.
"Yes, actually, it is," she leaned forward and pointed to the sheet, "You're talking about fishing in Alaska there, see? And you even write about how we were in a lull, and waiting for waves, and..." she must have been just scanning some of the pages. Had she actually read any of these? I hoped she hadn't. She was now perusing the document thoroughly"...Routine..?" she whispered to herself, "wait, Fat Paul Walker ROUTINE?! THAT was a routine too? But it wasn't even that funny. So, wait..." she kept reading, "This ISN'T me!" I knew she felt like our meeting had 'just happened.' She probably imagined that it was a cool story we could tell all her friends and even her parents about later on after we had been together for awhile. It was painful watching her realize that this was not the case at all. Rather, it was something I did all the time when I went to the beach.
"Yeah, I know. Listen, this stuff comes off really sleazy from an outside perspective, I know. But, look-"
"That's because it is! It's...manipulative," she said.
"No listen...look, I wasn't always good with women. They used to petrify me. Plus, I just plain didn't understand them. Okay, see, there was this one girl Angela right? She was my-"
"You're a player."
"Better than a needy Whine-aholic," I replied automatically.
"You shouldn't lie like this. I KNOW you tell lots of girls about Angela. Is she even real?" Holy fucking shit, was I this stupid? That's how it always is for me. I make one mistake, then I keep making more. I must've gone into a very common routine of mine out of habit. Every page she bothered to read probably had the whole routine or a reference to it. It actually was a true story. Most my common routines are. Well, it was 80% true at least, lol.
"Yes, it's a true story, but see-"
"Do you tell every girl that she has an eye booger?" she asked, cutting me off.
"Well, not every-"
"What's an AFC?" she asked, but kept cutting me off when I tried to talk.
"Mystery, Alessandro, BradP, Tyler Durden, Toecutter...are these all your fake names, or are they your friends? Do I know them? Jessica told me that your friend told her her nose wiggles too last Saturday. Are one of those him?"
"No, no they're not me. And no, lol, they aren't him either," That bastard, I thought lightheartedly, "Well, I guess...yeah, they're my friends...sort of."
"What does David Shading mean? It says that you David Shaded me in one of your papers." Hahah, I was NOT going to go into that.
"Okay, look, I'm not going to be put on trial. The point is, YOU did something wrong here, not me. You went into my computer. You read my journal. You printed out my personal writings. I'm sorry if you're hurt by all this, but if anyone should be mad here, it's me."
"You're a fucking asshole," she pretty much shouted, shoving the papers to me quickly so that many fell to the floor around us. People we're looking now.
"Sometimes, but the thing is...See, I'm not truly a social person, even though I want to be. The idea of approaching anyone new, guy or girl...that still terrifies me. All I did was find ways to overcome my greatest fear. Some girls would find that cool," I had to try.
"Nope," she said, gathering her things, "You're an asshole. God, why can't I just meet a nice guy?!" she was still really loud.
"You know what, lady?! Maybe I AM an asshole. But that whole 'nice guy' thing? I tried that!" I was a little heated by now, "And you know what it got me? It got me a whole lot of ex-girlfriends giving me comforting explanations for why they were leaving, telling me how I was exactly what they wanted in a husband when they get older, and then leaving for some non nice-guy who was sometimes even a 'friend' of mine. So you know what I figured out about your 'nice guys' (using quotes)?! Your 'dinner-date guys'?! Your 'old fashioned guys'?! They're all full of shit. That's right. Every one of them! You think they don't have an agenda too? Cause they totally do! It's even worse in my opinion. Every thing they do for you, everything they pay for, every compliment they give...it's all some secret ploy. Everything for them is a fucking trade. They do this, so they can get that. They don't fucking care about anything, at least not in the way you think they do. At least here (referring to her and I), we made a genuine connection. And I like you, FB, I really do. You're a cool chick, and I have fun hanging out with you. But don't stand there and feed me that typical 'nice-guy' crap. Cause I WAS one, and as much as I tried to convince myself differently to think that I was somehow more virtuous than my friends or some shit, I ALWAYS had an agenda. Okay, you know what I want you to do? Next time you find a 'nice guy,' you ask him this for me. Ask him if he considers himself an asshole. Ask him if he's ever been a prick to a female. Ask him if he's ever lied to a girl. He'll say no, and then he'll go into how he hates how some guys do this and that to girls, and how he'd NEVER do that. He'll say he's never been an asshole I guarantee it! You know how I know? Because that's what I said way back when too! And to me, the biggest assholes in the world are THOSE GUYS, the guy I used to be. The ones who won't admit that they are, in fact, guilty of all three aforesaid vices. Every single fucking person on this planet has been an asshole to someone for no reason at least once in their life. It's a fact. It's how we all learn, by making mistakes like that. That's why, on all those little fucking questionnaires you take they'll ask, 'have you ever cheated on a test' or 'have you ever stolen something.' Because the researchers know that every paper filled out by someone who put NO for one of those questions is going to be complete Bull Shit, so they throw those papers out. They know that almost every kid finds out that stealing is wrong by actually doing it and then being scolded by Mommy or Daddy. It's a fucking Step-By-Step episode for Christ's sake! So there you go, sweetheart. There's my final gift to you before you leave here. An Asshole test you can use just about anywhere in life. It's the people who do NOT admit to ever being an asshole you ought to worry about. It's the Ultimate Lie. See? They're the biggest dickheads of them all, and the ones you need to avoid most. The 'nice guys'." Though I wasn't yelling, I was speaking loudly and most the restaurant had been listening. Being too much into my rant, I was unaware until finishing. I felt extremely embarrassed.
"He's right, honey. You oughtta write that down." The waitress said, coming out of left field.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm sure he'll do it for me." She snapped. My ex-FB looked me long and hard before giving me her farewell speech which was simply, "Asshole!" grabbed her things and began stomping out of TGI Fridays.
"Yeah, we've covered that." I answered as she left.
The waitress was cool. I knew her. She was actually one of my first number closes way back when. Only a 5 or a 6, but a sweet girl nonetheless. She gave me her number but also told me she had a boyfriend so I never called. I thought there was nothing I could do in that situation at the time.
"Yeah, I've got it," I assured her about the bill as I shoveled the leftover food onto my own plate. I was still embarrassed until looking up to see that HB8.5wife whom I had made EC with earlier was looking at me with almost DDB eyes. Had all this been a DHV? Could this be possible? I wasn't quite sure what ugly truths I may have loudly divulged about myself to the ex-FB. Remember, this is all summarized. Might as well give it a shot though.
I had to piss so headed to the bathroom, but went up through the bar area to get there. I stopped on the way right in front of the two hot older ladies and looked HBwife in the eyes. I then leaned my head to the side and looked quizzically at her left hand. I grabbed it, and inspected her wedding ring from many angles, sort of like I've never seen one before. The wives were smiling, but totally confused. Dropping her hand onto her lap, I held both of my hands right in front of her face in the thumbs-down position while saying, "Booooooooo." She laughed but I made no facial expression, just walked to the bathroom, pissed, and headed back to my table the same direction I had came. They re-opened me as I was passing like I'd hoped.
"So what was all that about anyways?" said my target while kinoing me by gently grabbing my arm.
"Whoa! Hold on, lady. What are you doing? You're married and I don't even know you!" Her friend laughed genuinely. I then turned to direct a question to her friend (seated to her left), so that I could also lean slightly against HBwive with my right side, "Nah, that's a long, boring story, seriously. Hey, do you guys think I look like a Fat version of Paul Walker?"
"Hahah, sort of! I can see it! But you're not fat," her friend consoled me...and kinoed me.
"Really? Cause get this, I was up fishing in Alaska last month, right, and..."
I went on to number close HBwife. It took a little persistence though, and I don't think she's really too interested, but it was a good sarge still, and it got my state back up after that whole ex-FB episode which was the whole point of the approach anyways. It also gave me a chance to practice a couple new routines, which I wanted to type out in this FR as stated above. Still, hopefully you guys can enjoy this regardless.
(Credit - Philos MASF)
Suggested free e-books to read:
Donald Moine - Going For The Gold In The Selling GameDating Insider - Guide To Internet Dating
David Jones - The Art Of Internet Dating
Keywords: erotic bedtime stories franco manual seduction learn massage 8020 leading desire johm field online dating activities sensual massage fuentes basic arousal life women seduction going beatiful juan commandments
