Lazy Smart Robot

Day Four – Temperamental State

After yesterday I’m out with a bang.. excitement and smell of adventure in the air. Feeling good.

Banker suggests Tiger Tiger but last minute changes to the plans occur. My mate, PartyBoy, a university friend, has caught whiff of my 30 day expedition and wants a taste of the glory. I willing to share and agree to meet at a club Covent Garden.

We arrive to the queue and learn that bouncers are being anal about ID and male/female ratios. Potential problems given we’re just two guys and my mate has classically decided to leave all I.D. else where. This is Irrelevant though, since we get turfed from the queue for being too male and even despite my efforts to chat up the beach ball sized female bouncer. It’s fine!

The simple answer to this to round up some girls. A couple of ugly looking sisters walk by and I spring forward inviting them to the club.

“The gardening club??” the least ugly of the two, enquires. “Like for gardeners?”

Apparently they are from up north and don’t know how hip and cool we are in London with our funky names. I convince them it’s a cool place to be.

I feel I have bestowed value upon them since I am cool with dashing looks and more over I have introduce these lost souls to a place filled with cock.

Now, imagine my shock and disgust when she turns around and suggests in a seedy sales like manner that I should purchase her and her uglier sister drinks for their favour of getting us in.

“We can get in without you, but you need us”.

“Fuck off” I retort, in surprised anger.

We quit attempts of entering that place and move on to cheesier venues.

Only later I realise what a fool I’d been; a smarter ploy would have been to agree to purchasing drinks for the ugly sisters but once inside scampered like a rat. Hehe. Oh well, live and learn.

We get to another club and thanks to PartyBoy’s genius, manage to bypass queues, ID checks and entry fees by entering through the club’s restaurant area. We get ourselves drinks and head for the cloakroom to offload jackets.

Now, with a drink in one hand and coat in the other, my only conceivable method of negotiating the swing doors in my path is with a swift kick or preferably an aggressive kick given my current mood.

Through the door windows I notice a couple of girls approaching in the opposite direction. I hold fire and wait for them to come through. Moments pass and no movement at the door – I logically assume they are clear of the door and let loose.

As you’ve probably figured the door smacks one of the girls in the face. Shit! I apologise loudly and sincerely. Her friend turns to me and retardly spouts “Can you apologise again!?”

This doesn’t make sense to me and so for the second time tonight, angered, I respond with “Fuck off!”.

This venue is busy and mixed crowd. I’m mainly hanging with my uni chums but darting off at the odd opportunity.

I do a number of approaches with no great results other than shooting the breeze. I find an odd feeling where my initial excitement for the night fizzles out and I’m plunged into the darkness of chode mode.

I fight through the feeling. Remember to have fun and just chill out with my mates.

PartyBoy, gets drunken as usual and is off talking shit to girls. I liken him to a draw-string toy – bring him to a party, apply alcohol, pull the string and he’s off!

I don’t have the luxury of this social lubricant as I don’t drink. Instead I keep fighting my chodey feelings and doing approaches. I feel likes its all going down hill. I don’t understand!

I rock up to two cute girls on the dance floor “Hey.. you guys are my favourite” I exclaim loud and proud. It opens but I self eject. Chodey times.

PartyBoy requests I wing him on two girls. Mine is a bitchy brown girl. It opens but I get a sense she is just being polite, this feeling overwhelms me and it soon fizzles out my interaction. PartyBoy doesn’t seem to be doing too well himself. We leave.

Fury now. I spot a hot chick moving through the dance floor with a friend in tow. I charge a straight line toward them and open the cute girl “Hi, I’m AJ..”, standing just in their path. She’s receptive but her friend goes to move away, “woah..” I grab the cute one’s arm.. “hey where’re you going?”

“You’re forceful” says the friend. They linger for a second but my frame is weak and I don’t persist. They go to move away and I let them.

It’s nearing the end of the night and I find myself on the dance floor with PartyBoy. We spot one cute girl surrounded by a mixture of friends. Despite feeling fairly low at this point I make one last move. Making eye contact I extend my hand over the group and go for a hi-five.. she reciprocates and I grab her hand and pull her toward me.

Other girls in her group see this and like a magnet they break from the guys they are with and swarm around me and PartyBoy. I fail to escalate or indeed do much more than just introduce myself. The moment of awesomeness evaporates almost as quickly as it occurred.

I’m done. Home time.

On my drive home thoughts about my state based game is starts to bug me. Maintaining my happy state is difficult. Tonight I was all over the place. I can see how my state based game is weak. Being on a high so early just left me tired and screwed over.

Not sure how to fix this.

Day Three – Lone Wolf

While I really need to cut down on curse language – tonight I am tired as fuck!

I get home after work and lay my head down. I close my eyes but keep my mind slightly active to prevent sleep from taking over. I relax the tension. Some time later it’s time to go.

Socks on, shirt on, jeans and belt. Late nights and early mornings don’t go hand in hand. I override emotions and just move. I got my coat on, car keys in hand – a look in the mirror reflects back a poor image of a sleep deprived man. It’s all perception right? I stand tall and head out.

It’s nearing 10pm, I’m on foot and nearing the venue – so far not a peep from Banker. I call him – no answer. I get to the venue and still nothing. I haven’t eaten and with only Mc Donalds in sight, reluctantly, I head there to fill up.

Banker calls, he’s stuck at dinner for another hour. What a fuck up. He invites me along as they have a spare seat but it’s already late. I don’t have time for this and decide to go it alone.

It’s student night. I can actually smell students in the air: a weird mixture of tacky excitement and cheap drinks. I feel old and creepy. I ‘creep’ around the place on my lonesome. Luckily last nights experience helps a little and I console myself, knowing that no one will know or care that I’m on my own.

After a few too many laps creeping around the main floor I bite the bullet and introduce myself to two girls at the bar. Congrats to me. Vibe and chat was friendly. I bounce and search for more. I open another two set with similar vibe but more confidence. I can feel myself warming up and I relax. I have a couple of redbulls to awaken my spirits.

I go up one level in the club and move into another room with music more inline with my nature. On a packed dance floor my lonesome feeling comes back. How random am I, dancing on my own? I stand at the side and clap my hands together loudly to jump start my state. A nerd like guy seated next to me looks over at me like I’m a nerd – heh.

Amongst the crowd I see a stunning Asian (brown) girl in a blue dress. She’s seemingly only with one other girl. They make their way to the middle and start dancing. I chicken out on initial approach and choose to leer from afar. “That’s for me” I think to myself confidently before I run off to the bar like a coward and introduce my mouth to a coke & lime. Fucking chode.

I do a few more journeys around the club, going from level to level but always returning to the floor with the cool music. I see the blue dress girl again. Some coolish tall black dude with a spaghetti-like afro is chatting to her on the dance floor. I ignore the scene and introduce myself to some Russian chick , the only way I know how:

“Hi I’m AJ..” I say whilst giving her my hand to shake. She holds my hand and I pull her towards me. Close.

“Can you dance? I need a dance partner”. She shrugs a ‘maybe’. I lead us to the floor.

I note she is with a little short fatty and in an attempt to disarm the little one and prevent any attempts of classic cock-block attacks I get her involved. I think this worked against me as the Russian chick did a back turn at some point possibly thinking I was more interested in the little one… NOOO!!

Roughly around the same time as the Russian was doing her back turn the blue dress girl walked pass-by. Go time.

I push through a few people and offer my hand. I repeat my super tight introduction. “Hi, I’m AJ”, Blue girl looks at me with her amazing eyes, stunned. She seemed really frightened and shy?

We dance. She barely moves, like she has no idea what to do. No emotion and lacks excitement. It was difficult to know whether she was doing this due to my poor game or because she is actually boring. If I hold her hand or move her around she doesn’t resist – but in the same sense she doesn’t reciprocate.

Amidst the dancing and calling her lame I pick her up and dropped her back on her feet – this momentarily excites her but she soon reverts to ‘lifeless fish’ mode. I ask her to kiss me – part testing her reactions… She unsurprisingly declines.

I push on and ask why. “Because I don’t want.. I’m sorry”, WTF… why apologise? Regardless, I didn’t let this phase me – recalling a story from RSD Alex and his 20 attempts at escalation before finally reaching make out heaven.

I continue dancing and teasing her with push pull antics but eventually I get bored and self eject. Part of me felt she was just dancing for company while her mate was having fun with some other dude. Who knows?

During these series of events I’ve been keeping up to date with Banker over text. He was now very late and on the verge of not turning up at all. I text him back telling him he was a fuck up and to sort himself out.

I head outside for some air and potential of a smoke, though I’d run out of cigs and the venue wouldn’t let me leave and come back. A mate calls me so I stand in a clearing of the smokers area on the phone. As I put the phone down I notice a group of girls I’d seen earlier but hadn’t approached.

One in the middle is looking my way whilst mouthing something to her mate. I make a confused expression; she turns and asks if I’m single. All of a sudden I’m surrounded by 5 girls all talking at once. One, in particular, from Israel, who spoke at the speed of light.

Somehow I introduce the idea that I am gay into the conversation – for the first time this manoeuvre backfired and they start suggesting gay guys I should hook up with. Normally I use this line to gauge interest. It’s perhaps a weak method of doing things but a funny one.

After a lot of commotion, picture taking and a free half of a cig off one of the girls, they go back inside.

Just as they leave Banker shows up. We chill inside and discussed our experiences of the evening before calling it a night.

This was my first real experience of going out alone.

Day Two – “Tell her”

Banker calls me up: “How would you describe yourself… my mate wants me to vouch for you before she can put you on the guest list. Shall I say…. ‘tall, dark and handsome?’..”

Banker has happened upon a private party for us tonight. A hair dressers annual party. I envisage a plush place; Venue coloured white and model girls walking around in stilletoes. I imagine having difficult conversations about the latest styles and fashions. I’m not a man in the know.

First realisation of diminished dream is seedy soho location. Second is lack of security integral to any hot upscale party. “Are you on the guest list” Big Black door man asks politey. “yes” is my short response and access is so simply granted. No double checking my credentials and no hottie with a list.

I make friendly with the doorman and question the quality of women inside. He answers raising his hand with a gesture utilised by chefs when approving of a fine dish. Upon entry I am met with a mixed bag of quality, ranging from cute Camden types to older milfs to a tall red haired, whorishly dressed woman who is a man. Perfect.

Banker is running very late. I have over an hour of ME time. The place was initially packed. I made an error and grabbed a coke & lime from the bar first before approaching girls. This is not best way to start a night. I salvage poor start and ask short woman next to me what the party is all about. She doesn’t know. No matter – my socialising has begun.

I bounce around the club for a while. It’s a small venue with lots of grouped people. My conversations aren’t mind blowing. Simple hellos and follow with a story about how I’m on my own. One late 30-odd motherly type introduces me to her equally old friend and their daughters. How kind. I engage them all for a bit and then I bounce around some more.

After a while I start to feel creepy-like, being on my own. Self inflicted thoughts since no one would have known or if so cared. I go outside, make friendly with bouncer some more and light up a cig.

Banker is still a fair distance away. “You’ve got me in the middle of gay town” I complain down the phone.

I spot a crowd of people and stand with them for a while watching some Indian movie being shot. Interesting to see it all being done live. A small sequence of the (apparently) superstar Indian actors walking down an alley way was taking hours to shoot. Fans kept using flash photography and the annoyed film crew had no real power to stop them. I loitered around waiting for Banker.

During this time I was offered cocaine once and a couple opportunities to view, but sadly not touch, naked ladies.

I head back inside and sat on a couch, slouched with arms spread, dominating the couch on my lonesome. I couldn’t be bothered to feign high energy joy. After all why should I.. that’s not being natural!

Motherly woman from earlier engages me and asks me to join her group. I decline fearing elderly seduction and watch the MC on the stage who just started singing a cover of NERD – Everybody Nose, except he was rapping the lyric “all the indie kids standing in the line for the bathroom”. I laugh at the sight of some indie kids on the dance floor cowering in the corner with hands over their ears. I love it.

Banker is still no where near.

I exit the club and venture to OnAnon (spelling may vary). It’s quiet with only one floor open. I utilise their toilet facility and have a swift look around. Nothing takes my fancy. I exit and head back to seedy soho. Banker calls – he has finally arrived.

The bar is now empty so we make the most of the dancefloor. We are pretty much the only ones there. For lack of a better phrase we LORD the dancefloor. We are the main attraction. Lots of proximity is our reward for our being cool ……… but we don’t get involved. Chodish!

One girl with short blonde hair, a hello kitty stick-on tattoo sexily place under one of her big blue eyes and a funky yellow alice in wonder land type dress dances around us. We ignore her and enjoy the music supplied by the grandfather of hip pop in UK, Mr. Westwood.

Back at the bar alice in wonderland chick magically appears next to us. Peripherally I catch her glancing at us as Banker and I chat crap. I chode out and don’t open. The MC from earlier is behind me so I engage in conversation. I turn back to find Banker talking to alice. Good for him since I choded before. Before she leaves the bar I introduce myself and as she walks away I irresponsibly say “she’s cute.. she can suck my dick any day of the week”.

“Tell her” demands Banker.

It takes me a second to grasp the situation. “what?” … “Tell her!” He laughs at me. Fuck!

Over the next 30 days we have agreed to play a game of ‘Tell her’. Quite simply, if one of us comments on a girl and the other states “tell her”. The comment must be promptly reiterated in full to the girl in subject. Fuck.

I almost stumble across the floor as I assess the damage potential. It’s ok. I’ll do it. I have to.

Banker makes a judgment that it’s best to be executed just before we exit the venue for the night, in anticipation of a disaster. “No it’s ok.. I’ll do it”. Weirdly I am calm. We’ve done worst before. The girl is coming back my way – might as well get it over with. I call her over…

“Hey .. I just wanted to say” I pause. I look her in the face with one hand on her shoulder pulling her in. “You can suck my dick any day of the week”.

Her expression was one of uncertain shock. I note her assessing my face for reaction. I am steady and stare into her eyes.

“Do you lick pussy?” Her response.

Now I am shocked – but excited. I can’t believe it – no slap reaction!? I look at Banker, he has equally shock face expression.

I decline with a disgust look and we banter on the etiquette of a real man. A real man licks pussy in her opinion. I state refusal to do so on the first date.

The banter doesn’t last long and Alice chick leaves seemingly annoyed because I refused to lick pussy and also at some point she makes mention of her boyfriend which I disregard. Though there was a moment in the interaction that I felt like she would have kissed me. It never happened – no point dwelling.

‘Tell her’ is an awesome game!

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.