No, I’m not asking if you can last longer than.
I’m sure, you can.
That question my wingman was asked by a girl on Tinder. This post is not as much about game, girls, and online dating, as about female conspecifics and their sexual behaviour. I’m not about to provide any revelations, really. Rather, the tell-tale story, even though circumstantial in evidence – a fully evidence based one – a personal true story.
At the end of it it will become blatantly obvious what, by way of this illustrative story of personal experience, I’m trying to say. Hopefully, a discussion will follow.
Let's begin.
It’s Monday afternoon, my phone vibrates, I look up the message and it reads: “Would you like to meet Tuesday night? Or Wednesday? I’m off work.” This is what I was waiting for. It did not guarantee the lay was in the bag but I could feel it getting pretty close. I decided to message her back a few hours later, after my gym workout, for I sensed acting too keen wouldn’t help the cause. After all, she’s asked to reschedule the first date. After workout I popped into my friend’s house for a bit and with another wingman, avid Tinder user, looked up some of his leads. Him, being classically “tall, dark and handsome”, he had no difficulty in attracting girls, though still some work was required – especially, that he screened heavily for sex only with his semi-nude pictures. One Tinder lead of his was particularly unusual. A girl with no pictures, no details, and who started a conversation by asking him:
“Can you last longer than 4 seconds? The last guy I shagged didn’t last more than that.”
"For Christ's sake, someone's got an attitude", I thought to myself. I scrolled back and forth the conversation and it was obvious the girl was sexually aggressive, secretive for some reason, though sex-wise very matter-of-factly, to the point of disbelief. Possibly, because of the anonymity? Possibly, because she liked to fuck strange men? Possibly because she was crazy? Who knows. My wingman concluded upon her confidence she must’ve been at least a decent looking girl, he liked a challenge, and had nothing to lose. A blind date of sorts but with no pretences of a date at all, surely. They were setting up the bang for the last few days and seemed they’d hook up either Tuesday or Wednesday.
As things usually go, I shared what I was up to. I had a new lead from a shopping mall that I ventured to in a completely different, and far away part of the capital. I got it from a bubbly, well-dressed, petite girl who seemed very excited and upon my suggesting to meet up, immediately volunteered her number. It felt solid. The girl was very chatty over Whatsapp, sent me some pictures after a visit to a hairdresser, wearing a distinctive, red-black scarf, and was seemingly very interested and easy to setup a date, although by her request rescheduled for the next day. She arrived wearing a top revealing her full breast, red tights, the same distinctive red-black scarf as in the pictures she sent me and a small, yellow handbag which, among other things, contained a pack of cigarettes. Date went well, though the girl seemed a bit crazy, quite touchy-feely, and a little motor-mouth. I just had to sit back, relax, and lead. We ended up at the bus stop, making out and me groping her a bit. She had to work the day after so declined to come to mine and it was getting really late. The bus arrived, she gave me a kiss whilst holding her yellow handbag in one hand, then off she disappeared into the night. Perhaps, If I started the date earlier, or escalated quicker, I’d have her on my bed. Seemed like a good girl, who didn’t jump into a man’s bed on a first date… I kind of liked that. Call me old-fashioned. Regardless, on my way back home I was musing If I should install Tinder and get some easy lays like some guys on RVF. No dates, no hassle, just straightforward-to-your-home bangs.
A week passed. In the meantime, the girl I met in a food store and banged on a second date over a month ago, came up from London with her mum for a few days. I also got a lead in a tiny coffee shop from a cute Canadian tourists visiting for a couple days. With the bubbly girl I just had a date with, things looked promising. In the meantime, my handsome wing, got some quick bangs off Tinder. Girls weren’t spectacular lookers but still. Some hard filtering for sex, some messaging back and forth, a quick date nearby his place, then back to his. The Canadian girl slowed down in her replies and we haven’t met. I knew why but that was inconsequential. The girl from London said she couldn’t meet because of her mum. Finally, she said she could but only for a drink and possibly for something more the day after. I declined drinks only. I wasn’t that much into her anyway. She left for home with her mum. What it meant was only one lead left of the bubbly girl. And she didn’t message me for a couple past days.
***
It’s Monday afternoon, my phone vibrates, I look up the message and it reads: “Would you like to meet Tuesday night? Or Wednesday? I’m off work.” The message is from the bubbly girl and it’s on. Or so I thought? After the gym workout, and meeting with my wingmen later on, I message back to have her reply she is going for a dinner with her friend and they are hanging out because they didn’t see each other for a bit and she’ll let me know tomorrow if she can meet me that night. I don’t like it one bit. The girl seems all over the place, and flakier than I thought. Being kept hanging in the air never good for a man. I consider replying “Nah, forget it.” An ultimate push, of sorts. I decide to just ignore. I will learn this a good strategy, for she will contact me in two days, on Wednesday, asking if I’d like to go out with her dancing on Friday.
Tuesday arrives and by early afternoon I’m pretty sure I won’t hear back from the bubbly girl. I pack my bag, and head to my wingman’s house. In the meantime, my handsome wing, at whose place I’m staying overnight due to new paint in my flat, tells me some Tinder girl he was supposed to meet Tuesday, asked to change for Wednesday, then again said she’d probably be down for some action on Tuesday. It seems at least one of us is about to get laid tonight. Late Tuesday night arrives, I’m chilling with my wingman, my phone still silent, whereas he tells me his Tinder girl confirmed and he’s going to fetch her from the bus stop. I ask him why not just have her come straight into the flat and he says it’s the crazy girl with no pictures so he’d rather check her out first and not get into some trouble. Makes sense to me.
He messages me the girl is legit and I leave for the bedroom, sit on a bed and turn my laptop on and scroll through RVF, thinking intermittently why the fuck that bubbly girl isn’t replying. My wingman chills with his crazy girl in the living room for a bit, then moves her to the bedroom. He messages me: “lol, she brought condoms and lube with her”. I think it's hilarious. Soon after, I can hear the inevitable, him having a good time and wild sex thanks to Tinder, me thinking if daygame grind is worth it. As they keep fucking into the night, me having read through “Dating apps don't deserve your time” RVF thread, I realise I’m thirsty… Well, a glass of water will do. I walk through the living room, get a glass of water and on my way back, whilst hearing all the wild noises coming from my wingman’s bedroom, kind of glance towards the beige sofa. Then look again and take a sip from the glass and... see the unmistakeable – a distinctive red-black scarf and a small, yellow handbag lying on the sofa.
I’m sure, you can.
That question my wingman was asked by a girl on Tinder. This post is not as much about game, girls, and online dating, as about female conspecifics and their sexual behaviour. I’m not about to provide any revelations, really. Rather, the tell-tale story, even though circumstantial in evidence – a fully evidence based one – a personal true story.
At the end of it it will become blatantly obvious what, by way of this illustrative story of personal experience, I’m trying to say. Hopefully, a discussion will follow.
Let's begin.
It’s Monday afternoon, my phone vibrates, I look up the message and it reads: “Would you like to meet Tuesday night? Or Wednesday? I’m off work.” This is what I was waiting for. It did not guarantee the lay was in the bag but I could feel it getting pretty close. I decided to message her back a few hours later, after my gym workout, for I sensed acting too keen wouldn’t help the cause. After all, she’s asked to reschedule the first date. After workout I popped into my friend’s house for a bit and with another wingman, avid Tinder user, looked up some of his leads. Him, being classically “tall, dark and handsome”, he had no difficulty in attracting girls, though still some work was required – especially, that he screened heavily for sex only with his semi-nude pictures. One Tinder lead of his was particularly unusual. A girl with no pictures, no details, and who started a conversation by asking him:
“Can you last longer than 4 seconds? The last guy I shagged didn’t last more than that.”
"For Christ's sake, someone's got an attitude", I thought to myself. I scrolled back and forth the conversation and it was obvious the girl was sexually aggressive, secretive for some reason, though sex-wise very matter-of-factly, to the point of disbelief. Possibly, because of the anonymity? Possibly, because she liked to fuck strange men? Possibly because she was crazy? Who knows. My wingman concluded upon her confidence she must’ve been at least a decent looking girl, he liked a challenge, and had nothing to lose. A blind date of sorts but with no pretences of a date at all, surely. They were setting up the bang for the last few days and seemed they’d hook up either Tuesday or Wednesday.
As things usually go, I shared what I was up to. I had a new lead from a shopping mall that I ventured to in a completely different, and far away part of the capital. I got it from a bubbly, well-dressed, petite girl who seemed very excited and upon my suggesting to meet up, immediately volunteered her number. It felt solid. The girl was very chatty over Whatsapp, sent me some pictures after a visit to a hairdresser, wearing a distinctive, red-black scarf, and was seemingly very interested and easy to setup a date, although by her request rescheduled for the next day. She arrived wearing a top revealing her full breast, red tights, the same distinctive red-black scarf as in the pictures she sent me and a small, yellow handbag which, among other things, contained a pack of cigarettes. Date went well, though the girl seemed a bit crazy, quite touchy-feely, and a little motor-mouth. I just had to sit back, relax, and lead. We ended up at the bus stop, making out and me groping her a bit. She had to work the day after so declined to come to mine and it was getting really late. The bus arrived, she gave me a kiss whilst holding her yellow handbag in one hand, then off she disappeared into the night. Perhaps, If I started the date earlier, or escalated quicker, I’d have her on my bed. Seemed like a good girl, who didn’t jump into a man’s bed on a first date… I kind of liked that. Call me old-fashioned. Regardless, on my way back home I was musing If I should install Tinder and get some easy lays like some guys on RVF. No dates, no hassle, just straightforward-to-your-home bangs.
A week passed. In the meantime, the girl I met in a food store and banged on a second date over a month ago, came up from London with her mum for a few days. I also got a lead in a tiny coffee shop from a cute Canadian tourists visiting for a couple days. With the bubbly girl I just had a date with, things looked promising. In the meantime, my handsome wing, got some quick bangs off Tinder. Girls weren’t spectacular lookers but still. Some hard filtering for sex, some messaging back and forth, a quick date nearby his place, then back to his. The Canadian girl slowed down in her replies and we haven’t met. I knew why but that was inconsequential. The girl from London said she couldn’t meet because of her mum. Finally, she said she could but only for a drink and possibly for something more the day after. I declined drinks only. I wasn’t that much into her anyway. She left for home with her mum. What it meant was only one lead left of the bubbly girl. And she didn’t message me for a couple past days.
***
It’s Monday afternoon, my phone vibrates, I look up the message and it reads: “Would you like to meet Tuesday night? Or Wednesday? I’m off work.” The message is from the bubbly girl and it’s on. Or so I thought? After the gym workout, and meeting with my wingmen later on, I message back to have her reply she is going for a dinner with her friend and they are hanging out because they didn’t see each other for a bit and she’ll let me know tomorrow if she can meet me that night. I don’t like it one bit. The girl seems all over the place, and flakier than I thought. Being kept hanging in the air never good for a man. I consider replying “Nah, forget it.” An ultimate push, of sorts. I decide to just ignore. I will learn this a good strategy, for she will contact me in two days, on Wednesday, asking if I’d like to go out with her dancing on Friday.
Tuesday arrives and by early afternoon I’m pretty sure I won’t hear back from the bubbly girl. I pack my bag, and head to my wingman’s house. In the meantime, my handsome wing, at whose place I’m staying overnight due to new paint in my flat, tells me some Tinder girl he was supposed to meet Tuesday, asked to change for Wednesday, then again said she’d probably be down for some action on Tuesday. It seems at least one of us is about to get laid tonight. Late Tuesday night arrives, I’m chilling with my wingman, my phone still silent, whereas he tells me his Tinder girl confirmed and he’s going to fetch her from the bus stop. I ask him why not just have her come straight into the flat and he says it’s the crazy girl with no pictures so he’d rather check her out first and not get into some trouble. Makes sense to me.
He messages me the girl is legit and I leave for the bedroom, sit on a bed and turn my laptop on and scroll through RVF, thinking intermittently why the fuck that bubbly girl isn’t replying. My wingman chills with his crazy girl in the living room for a bit, then moves her to the bedroom. He messages me: “lol, she brought condoms and lube with her”. I think it's hilarious. Soon after, I can hear the inevitable, him having a good time and wild sex thanks to Tinder, me thinking if daygame grind is worth it. As they keep fucking into the night, me having read through “Dating apps don't deserve your time” RVF thread, I realise I’m thirsty… Well, a glass of water will do. I walk through the living room, get a glass of water and on my way back, whilst hearing all the wild noises coming from my wingman’s bedroom, kind of glance towards the beige sofa. Then look again and take a sip from the glass and... see the unmistakeable – a distinctive red-black scarf and a small, yellow handbag lying on the sofa.
____________________
My Adventures in Game updates on the go: twits by Max Detrick
Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
I don’t ever give up. I mean, I’d have to be dead or completely incapacitated.
-- Elon Musk
![[Image: giphy.gif]](http://media.giphy.com/media/JceRvHjp8CcTe/giphy.gif)
