At some point late last year or early this year I embarked upon a challenge to go out 30 nights in a row. I can’t remember the dates and sadly I didn’t keep a complete diary of my nights. But here is what I do have. Enjoy.
Day one – In the beginning
Here’s the start of another 30 day challenge to super boost our life experiences.
Day one, I mentally decide to treat this like my first driving lesson: I was confident, joyous, and over critical of my faults. When speaking to my dad about my experience I expressed concern that I lacked coordination with the gear stick. I doubt he’s ever realised but his response is something I’ve never forgotten and something I reapply to other challenges I faced:
“It was only your first lesson”
Too true. Mistakes are there to be made and learnt from.
On with the night.
I’m early to the bar. I head upstairs to the toilet, relieve thy self and make friendly with the toilet guy. Standing at the bar I scan the top floor for possible ’sets’ (must remove pua termination from my vocabulary), uninspired by the options I go back downstairs and end up lurking like creepy guys by the main bar. I was on my own and unwilling to approach any of the available groups.
I creep myself out and decide it best to lay low; seating myself on a lone table and blending in with the football watchers. I glance at my watch- still 20minutes till my mate Banker turns up. I pretend to watch football and slowly sip on my orange juice. Chode-like behaviour. I intuitively know this is wrong behaviour.
I access rsd alex blog on my phone and skim read article on getting back to basics. This reaffirms my thoughts that I am acting like a bum.
Two girls are by the bar. My view is partially obstructed by a pillar and I peer at them from behind it: Leering. I look at my watch again and then my phone. No messages indicating Banker’s location. I sit back and further pretend to be engrossed in the display of male masculinity on the projector screen.
My hideout is soon after compromised by bar staff clearing tables and chairs to make way for the dance floor as the bar takes transformation into a club. I hold my position for as long as possible. I battle annoyed gazes from staff wanting to clear my table and I battle the voices in my head telling me to let go and start experiencing.
Two girls still by the bar. Do I go, or do I sit still and continue my dominance of the chair, table and empty drink cup. Fuck it – lets go.
I relinquish my position of security and walk in a straight line towards the girls. The bar is still fairly empty. As far as I can see these are the two hottest girls there.
They are facing the bar. I open them like double doors with a tap on their respective shoulders. I fluff shit talk. They are Columbian. I thought they were Greek. My geography is shit. One of them leaves to make a call. I maintain unimpressive fluff talk with the remaining taller girl. I am nervous enough not to be fully outside my head. She engages me but I talk fast with little direction.
The bar man comes over so I order myself another orange and spill it over the table. Smooth. When it comes to these classically embarrassing situations I find its best not to get embarrassed. Simple eh? The girl grabs some tissues and mops up my mess. The bartop still wet so I ask her for another tissue – Compliance? Haha! Overthinking in play.
Banker finally shows up. I let the girl introduce herself and listen intently since I’d already forgotten her name. Banker politely shakes hands then disappears off to the toilet.
Silence ensues.
I feel awkward. I let the awkward ness permeate. Her friend returns and they talk in Columbian. I step out of the circle of involvement and assume a position of nervous actionless cluelessness. Some dude takes the opportunity to open the girls and I take it as and opportunity to leave.
Banker rejoins and we hang by the bar. Now for quite a long time, neither of us move. We seemingly feed off each others chodeness. Lame. We note its lame. Still no action. WTF. We go stretch our legs on the dancefloor.
My state rises. Soon after this I shoot off and open American looking chick texting by the fruit machine.
“Got any coins?” I opened. “I want to get rich tonight!”
We have some exciting fluff. At some point I call her a physco for standing alone. She slaps me on my arm.
Disappointingly she is not an American. Excitingly she is English with some mix of Indian and quarter French – I think. I find combinations like this hot. I ask which quarter of her body is what? She gets confused. Perhaps I expressed too much sexual interest at that point since she jumped out at some passing by dude (probably friends from before) and engaged him in conversation.
I assume the same clueless no action confused chode stance as I did earlier with the Columbians. I self eject.
I can’t find Banker for shit now. I spot some lair type puas and watch them for a while. Some classic manouvers pulled – over the shoulder openers and back turns. I mock them but really at this point in time I am no better. I text Banker. No reply.
I head outside to smoke a cig. No girls out there and the guys look too foreign too approach so I pace about on my own. I see three guys standing in a triangle. The guy at the apex is holding a little note book. I laugh in my head at the thought of this being their little strategy manual. I had to find out.
I engage in conversation and ask them whats going on. One guy with curly brown hair explains they are part of some cult called ‘landmark’ and asks if ive heard of it. I have not. The others stand around in silence. CurlyHair further explains it some sort of pyramid scheme that involves inviting more friends. I am confused.
The guy holding the book looks familiar. I point to him and say “he looks like a pua”. CurlyHair cheers and shouts to me “ah I knew that’s why you came over”. Exposed and without a word the book guy flitters off into the club. I think I angered him. I spoke with Curly a little longer and then they all disappeared inside. I will never understand unsociable pua’s. CurlyHair was friendly but the others were weirdoes.
I found Banker inside and told him about the weridos. Weirdly I was excited by the other puas in the club. I guess I’m glad I’m not the same anymore – my aims are less structured, more fluid. I can easily spot unsociable Lair puas in a club: Their faces are sad.
The rest of the night was lame on the approach front. Banker and I clearly don’t function well enough at a duo at the moment. Rather than push each other forward we hold ourselves back. Its getting late and I’ve only approached 3-4 girls. Since we agreed on minimum 10 approaches a night we set off separately and blitz the club. I do a lot ‘hi/byes’ (drive-bys) and leave confused and some saddened girls in my wake.
There is much work to be done and fun to be had. Plenty of time to learn how to coordinate the gear stick of social interactions.
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