For an introduction to this “dirty thirty” series of blog posts for my new book Below The Belt, go here.
Meal Time – July 2016, Poland
This story from last summer illustrates the feral “hungry” nature of Secret Society truths. Whereas Mr Nice Guy goes about his day looking and interacting with girls in a platonic, asexual manner the player walks around life with a hungry twinkle in his eye, claws ready under fluffy paws and a carefree smirk. Girls sense he’s a tiger ready to pounce, not a pussycat hiding his dick.
Below The Belt tales are founded on biology, not ideology. They come from ancient hardwired circuitry that is millions of years older than language or modern societal norms. A player who is calibrated knows how to tap into this hindbrain operating system in himself and the girl. He knows the difference between being social and sexual, attraction and arousal, and getting her to not like him but desire him.
I can teach the basic daygame model and get Nice Guys to become more direct and begin to hold the frame, but the animalistic “killer instinct” is much harder to impart. It’s something that the guy must learn for himself infield with enough notches under his belt. A beginner will always ask “What did you say to open?” or “What was the stack?” after a demo set, missing out the complex subtleties and implied nuances completely. I’ve made a podcast on this indirect-direct advanced form of Game.
Anyway, back to the story. It started at the end of morning daygame session in a Polish city when I’d stopped off for lunch at a sushi restaurant, sitting outside in the sunshine. I’d mentally switched off from daygame, looking at the menu and watching the comings and goings on the street around me. Soon the waitress came over to take my order. She was young (21 or 22), blonde and had her sizeable boobs pushed up under a white shirt.
“Can I take your order?” she smiled. “I’d like a bottle of whiskey and two strippers” I replied with a smirk, using a canned line on autopilot. She went red and her eyes dilated. “Actually I’ll have the set lunch….and maybe the whiskey later.” There were lots of other customers waiting to be served so she scurried off with her notepad.
The secret of indirect-direct waitress game is to remember to turn the attraction off. Once you’ve shown you’re not just another identikit customer then you have to fractionate the pickup by getting her to do some of the work, otherwise you’re just her entertainer. When she returned with my food I acted as if the initial banter hadn’t happened, checking my phone and just giving her a quick “thanks.” This made her intrigued and keep coming back to give me water, napkins etc. “You are from England?” she asked, finally hooking.
From there on in I built rapport with her every time she came to the table to refill my glass with water. I found out she was moving to the UK in less than a month and that she actually hated sushi, which became a running joke. The couple on the table next to me were listening to the pickup, so I made sure to spike hard when they looked over, telling Waitress Girl that the uniform should be Japanese maid outfits. A lot of the real communication was being done with our eyes – I was laying on my strongest tiger eyes and she was giving them back.
The hardest bit of an indirect-direct pickup on a “hired gun” (a waitress, shop staff, a bar girl or a stripper) is to get the digits as it has to be discreet enough that she doesn’t get fired. Remember the rules of the Secret Society. When she brought over the bill I said I’d find her on Facebook just in case she’d poisoned my meal, getting her to write down her name at the top of the bill. That evening I sent her a request and she accepted pretty quickly.
We set up an evening date in my usual venue district where there were lots of grungy bars, ten minutes from where I was staying. She messaged to say she was late. I did the usual thing of going into a bar and sending her a picture of where I was. After twenty minutes still nothing. She messaged again asking me to come and meet her outside the sushi restaurant. Classic frame control. I declined, telling her she should come to the bar. Another twenty minutes of nothing. I downed my beer, paid up and got ready to leave. She messaged again, pleading that she didn’t know where the bar was and asking me to come and collect her. I was half tempted to just walk home, but felt myself getting too reactive so walked back up to her restaurant where she was chatting to the other waitresses.
I knew I had to get the frame back, so I pretty much blanked her after saying hello and bantered hard with the other waitresses, using as many spikes as I could muster. Classic Mystery Method – bait the target to invest by ganging up with her friends. The plan worked as she was visibly annoyed her female colleagues were getting the attention, and she pulled me away to go back to the grungy bar area.
Rather than snapping at her and losing the frame again by being prickly, I kept the vibe light and told her she had to buy me a shot of Polish vodka to make up for her lateness, which she did. I don’t remember much else about the date other than that she was hard work. Loud, confident, opinionated and a tease. There was a constant “I-know-that-you-know-that-I-know” vibe going on. Just like in the initial pickup, she knew I wanted to fuck her, I knew that she was attracted but we both knew that it was a frame control dance.
After a few drinks with her in the bar area I got her back to the apartment using my guitar and “free minibar” seeding as normal. All the while she was enjoying being the tease, the plaything for the tiger, coming close to my claws but then backing off. She was clearly an expert in fractionation. Vodka flowed, we made out, rolled around on the bed but she was milking the token LMR for all its worth. Not in the way that genuinely shy or nervous girls do when they’re apprehensive, but like a porn actress teasing the camera to get viewers hornier and hornier.
There are key behaviours from a girl in the bedroom that signal she’s going to be a wild ride. When you make out with her, pull her hair and see how she reacts. Put your thumb in her mouth as you’re kissing and see what she does. Hold her neck under her hair and see if she’s into it. Kiss her neck, then bite it as you’re rolling around the bed. Put your hand under her top and scratch her back. When a girl’s encouraging all these signs of male dominance by moaning, sighing and trying to do them back, you know that the right frame has been set.
After that I remember more token LMR games, so I pulled the classic move of “letting her sleep over.” Under the duvet with some of our clothes off, it was just a matter of time. Dick out, fingering then an animalistic explosion like something from National Geographic. She was the most physical girl of the year, sinking her teeth into my lip and her nails hard into my back. She left love bites all over my neck and wanted me to fuck her harder than any girl I can remember. For a petite 21 year old girl she had the energy of a gazelle.
The next morning once she’d left to go to work, my housemate bumped into me in the kitchen and remarked that I looked like I’d been in a wrestling match with a bear. And in some ways he was right – as I say over and over, daygame IS dirty. The Secret Society is feral and primal. As a guy you’ve just got to rediscover your claws.