chubby with a shaved head. They were leaning up against the bar.
“Hey bro, how’s your night? You sarging ?” the tall one asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m about to. How about you guys, done any approaches?”
“Nah,” the tall one said. “We don’t approach. We let them come to us. I’ve been getting approached a lot.”
“Really? Awesome! That never happens to me,” I said, truthfully. “I never have it easy. That’s why I’m learning pickup.”
I studied these guys leaning on the bar, and then checked out the room. There were quite a few pretty girls, but none seemed remotely interested in approaching us. I didn’t blame them. It’s not like we were exquisitely handsome compared to all the fit French dudes in the club. Even though we were puas , nobody knew or cared.
“So what do you do? Just stand here until a girl talks to you?” I asked.
“Yeah man. We don’t chase.” The shorter guy said. “So what’s your style? My name’s Jeff by the way.”
“I’m Sebastian. My style? Well, I don’t know. I just get in there and let the magic happen. Hope I don’t get blown out or whatever.”
“Right on,” Jeff said. “We should go out sometime.”
“For sure,” I agreed. “I’ll be your wingman.”
I sipped my beer and said goodbye. “Well guys, I’m gonna go talk to that girl over there. Wish me luck.”
They leaned back and watched as I approached my first girl. She was wearing what looked like a kimono so I said, “Did you just return from Japan ? Konnichiwa!”
She stopped dancing, smiled quizzically and said, “What?”
“I like your kimono!”
“Oh… thank you.” She didn’t seem impressed by me, not at all. A feeling I was becoming used to. A sort of insignificance, like I was a flea to be swatted away. If some of these bitches would just give me a chance, we could have an adventure. Why does everything have to be a threat? I know that life is scary for girls, but I’m scared too. Scared of missing out on the human experience.
“Did you just get back from Japan ?”
“Me? No.” She said.
She wasn’t holding eye contact and kept deferring to her friend. They looked back and forth, back and forth at each other, so I called them out, “Hey. You guys keep girl coding each other. You want me to go away?”
Kimono said, “No, it’s just that we haven’t seen each other in a long time and we want to dance. Sorry.”
“I can dance! Check it out.” I did the robot, which should have amused them, but she just smiled awkwardly and looked away. Slowly, I will peck at their shells until they love me.
I noticed a girl that had been staring at me since I arrived. I worked with her at the Call Center of Doom. She had a very pretty face with big almond eyes, dark, straight shoulder length hair and giant boobs. She’s a little bit thick but not fat, very womanly. I don’t mind a bigger girl if she isn’t straight up obese. I don’t want to slap her and ride the waves in, or roll her in flour to find the wet spot. I don’t want that or any other fat girl clichés. I suppose it’s the same as a pretty girl not wanting a boyfriend with a shitty job and no status.
The kimono girls were ignoring me. This was typical when I cold approached chicks on the dance floor since I sucked at dancing. I’m so white. I gave them the low five and left them alone. It was less corny than a high five and it doesn’t look like I just got brutally rejected. It just looks like, “peace out girls. See you around…friends!”
The bar was too small to look like a loser; I’d be forced to leave the venue out of shame. If girls see you get rejected, they all reject you. If they see you doing well, they all want to meet you. I was becoming very good at making rejection look cool. It all goes back to cavemen and all that. The head caveman gets all the women, so all the women want to be with the boss.
The big boobie girl was still stealing glances at me. Olivia was out of town
“Hey bro, how’s your night? You sarging ?” the tall one asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m about to. How about you guys, done any approaches?”
“Nah,” the tall one said. “We don’t approach. We let them come to us. I’ve been getting approached a lot.”
“Really? Awesome! That never happens to me,” I said, truthfully. “I never have it easy. That’s why I’m learning pickup.”
I studied these guys leaning on the bar, and then checked out the room. There were quite a few pretty girls, but none seemed remotely interested in approaching us. I didn’t blame them. It’s not like we were exquisitely handsome compared to all the fit French dudes in the club. Even though we were puas , nobody knew or cared.
“So what do you do? Just stand here until a girl talks to you?” I asked.
“Yeah man. We don’t chase.” The shorter guy said. “So what’s your style? My name’s Jeff by the way.”
“I’m Sebastian. My style? Well, I don’t know. I just get in there and let the magic happen. Hope I don’t get blown out or whatever.”
“Right on,” Jeff said. “We should go out sometime.”
“For sure,” I agreed. “I’ll be your wingman.”
I sipped my beer and said goodbye. “Well guys, I’m gonna go talk to that girl over there. Wish me luck.”
They leaned back and watched as I approached my first girl. She was wearing what looked like a kimono so I said, “Did you just return from Japan ? Konnichiwa!”
She stopped dancing, smiled quizzically and said, “What?”
“I like your kimono!”
“Oh… thank you.” She didn’t seem impressed by me, not at all. A feeling I was becoming used to. A sort of insignificance, like I was a flea to be swatted away. If some of these bitches would just give me a chance, we could have an adventure. Why does everything have to be a threat? I know that life is scary for girls, but I’m scared too. Scared of missing out on the human experience.
“Did you just get back from Japan ?”
“Me? No.” She said.
She wasn’t holding eye contact and kept deferring to her friend. They looked back and forth, back and forth at each other, so I called them out, “Hey. You guys keep girl coding each other. You want me to go away?”
Kimono said, “No, it’s just that we haven’t seen each other in a long time and we want to dance. Sorry.”
“I can dance! Check it out.” I did the robot, which should have amused them, but she just smiled awkwardly and looked away. Slowly, I will peck at their shells until they love me.
I noticed a girl that had been staring at me since I arrived. I worked with her at the Call Center of Doom. She had a very pretty face with big almond eyes, dark, straight shoulder length hair and giant boobs. She’s a little bit thick but not fat, very womanly. I don’t mind a bigger girl if she isn’t straight up obese. I don’t want to slap her and ride the waves in, or roll her in flour to find the wet spot. I don’t want that or any other fat girl clichés. I suppose it’s the same as a pretty girl not wanting a boyfriend with a shitty job and no status.
The kimono girls were ignoring me. This was typical when I cold approached chicks on the dance floor since I sucked at dancing. I’m so white. I gave them the low five and left them alone. It was less corny than a high five and it doesn’t look like I just got brutally rejected. It just looks like, “peace out girls. See you around…friends!”
The bar was too small to look like a loser; I’d be forced to leave the venue out of shame. If girls see you get rejected, they all reject you. If they see you doing well, they all want to meet you. I was becoming very good at making rejection look cool. It all goes back to cavemen and all that. The head caveman gets all the women, so all the women want to be with the boss.
The big boobie girl was still stealing glances at me. Olivia was out of town
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