IIX. Field Reports

Russian Girls at Dinner

I met a smoking-hot Russian girl sipping coffee at a caf on the corner of 59th and Fifth. She took well to my rap, but alas, she had a boyfriend. She was hesitant to give her number, instead offering to take mine. Never do this. I have not had a single instance of a girl calling me when she had my number. Though she demurred, I have a tricky move for that: grab her phone and tell her you’re entering your number in her phone. Then dial it. If she doesn’t catch on, your phone will ring and her number will be shown in caller ID. I’ve found that these women have short attention spans – it may not even occur to her that you circumvented her objection. In this case, I sent a text an hour later saying it was nice to meet and that yes, I’d love to be introduced to her single Russian friends.

So, here’s the discipline: She texted the next night saying she was with girlfriends at a restaurant nearby. I had just wrapped up with a very hot, but evangelical girl, who was on a reform kick and hadn’t had sex in five years. And she’s waiting for marriage before she’ll be penetrated again. Sweet, and for a moment I contemplated turning my life around 180 degrees to accommodate her – the abstinence, not the Born-Again stuff – but then decided that would be ridiculous. I like having sex too much.

So, while I’m wrapping up, this Russian girl texts that she’s with her hot girlfriends and I should come by. From experience I know it was a set-up. Not a set-up in an intentional way, but the way women think, it was a set-up for me: all downside risk and no upside opportunity for me. I wasn’t prying one of them off and taking her home. That almost never happens. Essentially, I was being “brought out” for critique. This gets to the timeline issue. Women are not in a hurry to have sex. They can leave it on the table and come back tomorrow. For a woman it’s ideal to have you make an appearance and showcase your “talents,” whether they are sartorial, conversational, financial or physical. It’s a safe environment for her and she doesn’t have to extend anything. These women wanted me to arrive, be charming, share a drink and maybe head downtown with them – ideally picking up the cab fare as a demonstration of my chivalrous nature. The whole time, my every move is on display and I’m there to impress not just my girl, but all her friends.

The Lesson: beware of group settings in public places – you are there to showcase yourself and your girl will not leave with you.

“Meet Me at Starbucks…”
(or, Male Pride and What It Has Almost Cost Me)

The stick-in-the-mud is always a challenge. A hot Puerto-Rican something who had stopped by midweek was ready. We had a “date” set for Saturday night. 9PM, we start texting. She’s nearby, but she has some “game” herself, wanting to get me out. I try some amateur texts about having her swing by because I’m not ready. She stands her ground at a Starbucks, four-and-a-half blocks away. I tell her I’m on the phone with my mom and won’t she just head over, so we can leave from here. She returns: “I’m at Starbucks on 66th. If you want to see me tonight I’ll be here.”

My pride swelled. That bitch isn’t going to give me an ultimatum…! In the past, I’ve cut women like this out of spite, giving up the sex to make a point (in that way, I was no smarter than an emotional woman). I got a buddy on the phone who has superb game. One of his skills is that he remains cool-headed and sees the line – or, course of action – even in the midst of an emotionally-taut moment. I quickly explained the situation. His solution was brilliantly simple: tell her you’re taking her somewhere across the Park and it makes sense for her to come this way. I sent a text… waiting… She buys it! She’s on her way.

I’ve found that the better players find solutions that allow the women to save face, but in which he still gets it done. This was a classic example. She wanted to see me, but didn’t want to just come up to my place. She arrived and messaged, “I’m here. You can come down now.” (You see what kind of girl I was dealing with). I text back, “Thanks for permission. I’ll be right down.” We take a walk down a few blocks – I broke my rules about staying-put in my apartment, but she was really hot and I knew she was in the sack – and then make like we’re going into the Park. Unfortunately, my leg started to “hurt” me and we had to return to my apartment. In the comfort of home with candle light and Luther Vandross we talked for an hour. She insisted on wine, so I took her to the store and she got some beer. We came back and chatted. I ate a late dinner. She stayed over.

I fucked her.

The lesson: as a man, you’re a fool if you let pride get in the way of your game. For the record, I’m saying this as a man who has, in the past, left plenty on the table in an effort to maintain my pride. In retrospect, that was silly. These people aren’t men; who cares what they think? The other lesson here is that there’s always a way to get the girl and don’t let yourself get frustrated. A clear, cool plan, well-executed will end with her squirming on her back. She’ll be impressed that you worked so smoothly. Because in a way, they want men to play them; they like the idea of being the object of a well-executed seduction.

“I’m Not Ready to be Physical, Right Now…”

Bullshit. Unless she has a medical disorder or is legitimately involved with another guy, a woman is always ready to get sexual. Don’t be intimidated by a woman who claims that she has to wait a while, or some other crap. Two women in my recent sexual firmament claimed that we could hang out but that for one reason or another they had curbed their sexual enthusiasm.

In the first case, I was sitting in a caf near my house with a young female TV producer. We were talking about a prospective show on MTV. It was to focus on my lifestyle and be something called Break the Player, in which hot women compete for my love. The producer and I were discussing various scenarios in which these women could demonstrate their skills: cooking, a book report, day at the museum, jogging, dressing the man, etc. I think I joked about a blowjob contest, since the goal was to win my true affection. The producer laughed and then a girl at a table nearby looked up but said nothing. Later in the conversation, the girl at the table made a comment to us about blowjobs.

I was in. I got her number and said goodbye when she left. A few nights later I was in a cab on my way up to her place in Spanish Harlem. She is a fit girl from New Jersey who knows how to fuck. We fooled around the first time, ostensibly eating oranges and watching Silence of the Lambs. Well, we actually did eat the oranges.

The next time I wanted to see her, a few days later, she texted back that she wasn’t ready to be physical at this point. She had just moved to the city and was busy getting settled in and preparing for graduate school. Don’t tell a player he can’t have the honey!

I was over there in a day or two and fucked her well. We had very good rhythm and both agreed the sex was good. I saw her a time or two more, until she demanded more out of the arrangement. So, there you have it. A woman is always ready for sex, regardless of what she might say. In general, I’ve found that the female mind can shift on a dime from rejection to compliance and also, unfortunately, from interest to disgust (yes, I’ve disgusted my fair share of delicate minds…)

A second case of this same idea came from a 23-year-old finance girl, who lives in the neighborhood. I met Rebecca through friends and we walked home along Lexington Avenue one spring night. She was giving me all kind of flirty energy and was touching me, unprovoked. As we walked she confessed she’d been rather wild and had a big sexual appetite that sometimes got her into trouble. At one point she claimed her pants were sliding down, so we stopped in front of a supermarket so she could adjust. I said, “I’d better have a look…,” and she let me pull her spandex pants down and get a nice shot of her beaver. Needless to say, that got the blood flowing.

We walked some more and she disclosed a host of ridiculous sexual exploits. The situation was slightly delicate since we know people in common and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go there. We talked about going to the movies. She told me sure. That weekend I texted her about going to a matinee and sitting in the mezzanine and behaving like high-schoolers. She stated that I had missed my opportunity and that if we’d met just a few weeks earlier things would have been different, but at this point she was reformed. Are you kidding me? That reminds me of a t-shirt I once saw out in Hollywood, California: Recovering Slut. Imagine that on a sexy girl!
Basically, she was telling me that nothing was going to happen because she was no longer conducting herself in a promiscuous manner. Two weeks later, I saw her again, brought her home and had sex with her on my floor. Easy as one, two, two-and-half. I forgot to mention that we had traded dirty pictures over our camera phones (my hard-on came from a girl in my bed who knew about the whole deal; she declined to be photographed for the little project).

The lesson: if a woman with whom you’ve had sexual contact tells you she isn’t ready for sex or she’s reformed, she could be posturing to avoid looking like a slut. Barring medical or relational restrictions, a woman is always ready for sex. Go give it to her!

The One from 2007

I met Lisa at a popular lounge downtown in December of last year. We exchanged numbers and texted back-and-forth for a period. She’s Canadian and it seems she was always out of town doing this-or-that (herein lies the power of strong inventory; you can weather these periods of uncertainty, fortified by your other women). We got back in touch in April of 2008 and after a couple of texts, we agreed to meet. She was in Brooklyn at her friend’s bar and was having a few. The hour got late. She arrived at 2AM and within thirty minutes we were on the ground screwing. She was fun, though her period caused a bloodbath in my little apartment.

This was a phone number (actually, she’d given me a business card on which her cell number was printed) that I had gotten four months earlier and I’d had no intervening contact with Lisa. Still, after a few well-timed texts, she was at my place ready to have fun.

The lesson: even a number from months ago, provided the woman continues to reciprocate your text efforts, can lead to a great sexual encounter. Culling a phonebook should be done with this in mind; only delete non-responders and hostile chicks.