To the noobs who find themselves slipping into an LTR, here's a (hopefully) inspirational story from last night:
The last three months in the life of Caligula have been uneventful. I've slipped into LTR-mode. It started off as an SNL. Met her at a dive-bar at last-call. We went back to mine for champagne on the terrace; half an hour later we banged. I dropped work the next day to spend all day in bed with her. She cooked me lunch, then dinner. I was hooked.
Since meeting her there were a couple of hookups. I wasn't into them. Slowly I lost my will to hunt, even as my appetite for fresh meat grew. I set up a couple of OKCupid dates, but half-assed them and always went back to the sure thing.
Worked long hours. Most weeknights I returned from work to home-cooked meals in front of the TV. Family, hearing me name-check a girl regularly for the first time in years, thought I might be settling down. Finally. They were happy and encouraged me. My new-found focus on work had me thinking it might be a good idea.
But being with LTR-girl was like a beach holiday that dragged on for too long. In three months it went from Paradise to Purgatory. Earlier in my life tiring of her might have taken a year. Now, in three months, I felt trapped. I looked at other girls every time we went out, but didn't do much apart from an occasional flirt. I felt like a caged animal. It's very comfortable, though. I became lethargic. Predictable sex replaced running as my main cardio activity.
For the first time in years, I empathised with my married friends.
Then last night, out of the blue, I got a call from a Russian girl I worked on right before I met LTR-girl. At the time I lived in a hotel. Last time I saw her we were in my hotel room at 4am; she refused the kiss and I told her to get out and fuck off back to Queens.
She wanted to see me over a drink. Bored at the office I gave her a chance. I told her to meet me at a nearby bar.
Three bars and eight drinks later we found ourselves at the Boom Boom Room at the top of the Standard Hotel overlooking New York. As we chatted on the sofa I scoped the talent. Hot girls everywhere and a lot of the guys looked gay; the kind of ratio any player hopes for when going out.
It was time to check how serious she was. Her body language had been off all night. She hadn't been returning my touching, and sometimes assumed a defensive posture. I moved in for the kiss. She shirked. What was that? Do you try to seduce every girl you meet? - Most of the cute ones, yes.
She wasn't into it. She was hanging out with me for the attention.
On the other side of the table two girls saw my failed move on the Russian. A blonde girl and a black girl. The blonde girl was hot, small, tanned, in her late twenties. The black girl was thick, slightly older with a cute face. They discussed why the black girl could never meet any decent men, despite being a high-powered attorney. I resisted the temptation to open with a snide remark but joined the conversation - I think you came to the wrong place unless you're in the market for a gay best friend. After a bit of back and forth I pointed out a guy to the black girl, "I don't know if he's French, gay, or both but you should go talk to him, he was checking you out just now". Off she went to the dancefloor. Then my Russian date left to get me a drink at the bar. I was alone with blondie.
I bantered with with blondie for half an hour. She shit-tested me about the Russian girl and the failed kiss. I deadpanned that she was my wife and we were in the middle of a painful divorce, I don't want to talk about it. She laughed. The Russian brought my goose & soda to the table and got the hint when I turned my back and didn't include her in the conversation. She orbited the table aimlessly on the edge of the dancefloor, glancing back at me regularly.
The black girl got tired of not being approached on the dancefloor and came to say goodbye. It was a school-night after all. Five minutes later, tan blondie was in a cab going back to my place. It was on. A shot of adrenaline hit me me as I thought about what I'd be doing to her in ten minutes' time.
Bang.
On the subway this morning I noticed girls all around eyeing me. My peripheral vision had come back. I was aware of my surroundings again. Opportunities were everywhere. Every hottie was mine for the taking.
I feel alive.
I'm shutting down the LTR and taking the no-date challenge. I sense a hot-streak. This is why I'm marrying the game.
You're all invited to the bachelor party.
The last three months in the life of Caligula have been uneventful. I've slipped into LTR-mode. It started off as an SNL. Met her at a dive-bar at last-call. We went back to mine for champagne on the terrace; half an hour later we banged. I dropped work the next day to spend all day in bed with her. She cooked me lunch, then dinner. I was hooked.
Since meeting her there were a couple of hookups. I wasn't into them. Slowly I lost my will to hunt, even as my appetite for fresh meat grew. I set up a couple of OKCupid dates, but half-assed them and always went back to the sure thing.
Worked long hours. Most weeknights I returned from work to home-cooked meals in front of the TV. Family, hearing me name-check a girl regularly for the first time in years, thought I might be settling down. Finally. They were happy and encouraged me. My new-found focus on work had me thinking it might be a good idea.
But being with LTR-girl was like a beach holiday that dragged on for too long. In three months it went from Paradise to Purgatory. Earlier in my life tiring of her might have taken a year. Now, in three months, I felt trapped. I looked at other girls every time we went out, but didn't do much apart from an occasional flirt. I felt like a caged animal. It's very comfortable, though. I became lethargic. Predictable sex replaced running as my main cardio activity.
For the first time in years, I empathised with my married friends.
Then last night, out of the blue, I got a call from a Russian girl I worked on right before I met LTR-girl. At the time I lived in a hotel. Last time I saw her we were in my hotel room at 4am; she refused the kiss and I told her to get out and fuck off back to Queens.
She wanted to see me over a drink. Bored at the office I gave her a chance. I told her to meet me at a nearby bar.
Three bars and eight drinks later we found ourselves at the Boom Boom Room at the top of the Standard Hotel overlooking New York. As we chatted on the sofa I scoped the talent. Hot girls everywhere and a lot of the guys looked gay; the kind of ratio any player hopes for when going out.
It was time to check how serious she was. Her body language had been off all night. She hadn't been returning my touching, and sometimes assumed a defensive posture. I moved in for the kiss. She shirked. What was that? Do you try to seduce every girl you meet? - Most of the cute ones, yes.
She wasn't into it. She was hanging out with me for the attention.
On the other side of the table two girls saw my failed move on the Russian. A blonde girl and a black girl. The blonde girl was hot, small, tanned, in her late twenties. The black girl was thick, slightly older with a cute face. They discussed why the black girl could never meet any decent men, despite being a high-powered attorney. I resisted the temptation to open with a snide remark but joined the conversation - I think you came to the wrong place unless you're in the market for a gay best friend. After a bit of back and forth I pointed out a guy to the black girl, "I don't know if he's French, gay, or both but you should go talk to him, he was checking you out just now". Off she went to the dancefloor. Then my Russian date left to get me a drink at the bar. I was alone with blondie.
I bantered with with blondie for half an hour. She shit-tested me about the Russian girl and the failed kiss. I deadpanned that she was my wife and we were in the middle of a painful divorce, I don't want to talk about it. She laughed. The Russian brought my goose & soda to the table and got the hint when I turned my back and didn't include her in the conversation. She orbited the table aimlessly on the edge of the dancefloor, glancing back at me regularly.
The black girl got tired of not being approached on the dancefloor and came to say goodbye. It was a school-night after all. Five minutes later, tan blondie was in a cab going back to my place. It was on. A shot of adrenaline hit me me as I thought about what I'd be doing to her in ten minutes' time.
Bang.
On the subway this morning I noticed girls all around eyeing me. My peripheral vision had come back. I was aware of my surroundings again. Opportunities were everywhere. Every hottie was mine for the taking.
I feel alive.
I'm shutting down the LTR and taking the no-date challenge. I sense a hot-streak. This is why I'm marrying the game.
You're all invited to the bachelor party.
"A flower can not remain in bloom for years, but a garden can be cultivated to bloom throughout seasons and years." - xsplat