So, APB and I are in London and we’ve both passed out around 3pm for our Jetlag nap (the nap you take when you get off the 10+ hour plane and fight against the masses to secure a home-base). He wakes me up and it’s 9pm. “Hey, you wanna go out?”
“How much time have I got?”
So, I get up, throw on an outfit and thank my lucky stars that I took a shower earlier in the day. I had gone on a bit of a walkabout to see the bits of Picadilly I knew I wouldn’t see while I was out causing evening mayhem and had groomed myself accordingly. This made it extremely easy to throw on a shirt, tie, pants, boots, and jog out the door with JT to meet an Alumni (Hank) and his other German friend (Andrew). Both were extremely nice and had a bit of the “We’ve been following you on the internet for a long time and are finally meeting you” glow to them that I am more familiar with from my rock music days. They were great guys and we went off to get a bit of food before heading to bar #1.
Bar #1 was heaps of fun and we ended up stealing these two English girls that spoke German (Hank and Andrew are German and I speak a little bit). After hours of the ol’ bump n’ grind, they report that they want to go to a gay club and ask if we’d like to go.
Now, I have no problems with gay clubs, as being the only straight guy around some fairly attractive women in a club is very rarely a disadvantage, but they started to realize that we were willing to pretty much do anything (because we’re very adventurous – not, as they supposed, because we were extremely interested in them), and started to play the ol’ hard-to-get. Yuck. APB, Hank, Andrew, Myself, HB1 and HB2 are off to this club called Heaven (yep), and APB and I are holding up light conversation while the others chatter in German.
We stroll around the streets and begin to realize that the girls don’t know where they’re going and, combined with playing hard-to-get, this has made them embarrassed and defensive (read: unpleasant), SO when we hear two extremely cute little American accents walking next to us, we start right in. This is A for Approach. Openers, shmopeners; when you’re in another country and you recognize your home accent, you’re all instantly best friends. Lucky for us, these girls were gorgeous. HBRedhead was a tiny, fiery redhead with absolutely gorgeous red hair to the middle of her back and a casper-the-superhot-redhead complexion dressed in jeans a black long-sleeve T. HBFate was a slightly taller brunette wearing a low-cut, charcoal T with a light gray skirt over black leggings. They were smiley, fun, and very welcoming.
APB and I selected them instantly and got along. Turns out they were both from LA and were studying abroad for Loyola Marymount and they knew my good friend that’s a professor there. The tiniest world! We bantered all the way to the clubs and I probably could’ve closed right there, but we were having so much fun. The B phase is really my favorite place to learn to understand a girl and, when a girl has the ability to keep up with my witticisms, I’m unendingly attracted.
Unfortunately, the other two girls were spiraling down farther into their embarrassed unpleasantness and Hank and Andrew had come back to see what all the laughter and happiness was about and kinda… horned in on the set, confusing targets and generally making it a mess.
I said, “Fuck that” (figuratively) and held fast to my brunette. These guys were very nice, but I wasn’t working (i.e. doing a bootcamp), so I didn’t owe them squat! Haha. I politely deflected interruptions and kept right on discussing our fate together, politely reminding her that this was the only day that existed and that they had to grab it by the horns and squeeze every bit of excitement out of it possible!
When we met them, HBFate and HBRedhead were on their way home for early classes and we wouldn’t allow it. The girls were huge amounts of fun and my specialty is a kind of direct, sexual, live-in-the-moment, no-day-but-today kind of logic and they grabbed right onto it. Class was at 8 for them and we managed to bounce to two or three areas using the ol’ “There may not be a tomorrow! We may lose today and live this as the only day that exists! Our memories are all creations of our minds and this is the only day they have!” I went on and on like a lunatic, but it kept them out long enough to go to this electronic sort of euro dance bar lovingly referred to by HBRedhead as “Lady Gaga’s house”, as a result of the incredible LCD lighting all over the walls. It was about the size of a partybus.
After a great shuffle in the ranks, Andrew had captured the heart of HBRedhead and HBFate and I were all cuddly and cute (owing great success to my quiet, conversational Comfort tactic: “Hey, remember when we were in London and we had first met on the street? Isn’t it funny that we’ve been married for 10 years?”). She would giggle and blush and insist people take pictures of the two of us. One of which I will include, against my policy of never posting pictures of girls from field reports for two reasons; 1) This FR has no gratuitous sexuality in it and wouldn’t embarrass her in any way and 2) I think the picture is absolutely beautiful. It is a very honest and telling depiction of exactly what was going on right at that very second.
The four of us were all dancing like madmen and having a great time, but we knew the girls were insistent on going home, so I briefed Andrew that we were not going to push for a full close and walk them back to their bus, inviting them out tomorrow night. I had actually tried to number close earlier in the evening but realized that I didn’t have a UK phone and that it would be excruciatingly expensive for me to use my American cell! On top of that, I didn’t have a pen (which is UNHEARD of) so I couldn’t even write down my email for them to add me on Facebook! It was so awkward and I felt a total AFC. She ended up giving her UK number to APB (an hilarious interaction, as neither of them knew their UK numbers and APB was closing this cute Arabic club barker while she desperately tried to bring us in the door of a nearby club) and I have her my American cell (useless) via a hilarious business card my mother had made for me that said my first name (in all capitals) on the front, and my cell on the back. That’s it. Patrick Bateman style.
“Dorsia on a Friday night? How the fuck did you swing that?”
As we left the last club, the four of us separated from the group and, again, the ranks shuffled. Andrew was dragging behind with HBFate and I was talking to HBRedhead in the front while we walked in the general direction of where their bus sorta might be if we were lucky, etc. This, while helping to create great bonds of friendship, wasn’t allowing me to run any game, so I just kind-of accepted it as something I’d continue later as we stuck them on the N14 bus back to So. Kensington, a gentle reminder that control is the essence of success and that when one has it, one relies only on luck.
Things I learned: Logistics (even the most OBVIOUS) must always be considered. I know have a google voice number I can give freely (though, I couldn’t remember it at the time), and use to communicate while on a computer. It was silly of me not to have the number and I’ve fixed that. Also, I’ve written down APB’s UK number (for ALL our benefit). We’ll bring these girls out tonight or this weekend and all possible contingency plans will be prearranged.
Also, this interaction was a brief reminder (something us instructors need once in a while) that just because you didn’t fingerblast a girl on the day doesn’t mean that the set was a failure. I have no doubt that these girls will come out with us tonight or this weekend and that we’ll be fast friends when they get back to LA. These skills are truly amazing and I’m glad every day that I decided to pull the trigger and push myself.