Field Report: German Girl, Bi-Girl, Bird Girl, and the Sensitive Server
An expose on four girls who intrigued me, three introverted girls who had just gotten off work and a cougar who hooked quickly, followed by some thoughts on inner game.
I sat down at the bar. It was empty when I got there. I was done for the night and wanted to grab a drink before heading home. After a few sips a girl dressed in all black, a tank top, boots, and cutoff shorts that just barely covered from her ass and pussy up to her hips took the seat next to me. She leaned forward on the bar. Short cobalt blue hair waved just above her shoulders, parting behind her neck. I told her what pigment I saw. She thought I’d asked her what she planed on drinking, and tells me she’s getting a double of some obscure gin, on the rocks, for the summer heat.
“Oh nice. I should get a glass… unless you’d like to share.” She looked down, a bit embarrassed, almost contemplating the offer. “But, I was commenting on your hair.” It was loud in the bar. “The blue in your hair, it’s shinier than most dye jobs I see.”
She didn’t know what shade it was. She’d mixed it herself. A painter, who studied at a liberal arts college in New York, somehow she found her way up here. She was hot, shamelessly creative types are extra attractive. She acted like a bit of an outcast, a bit like a hippy. Reminding me of the girls who lived co-op housing at the liberal arts college I’d attended. I started envisioning her bent over, getting her hands dirty pulling up carrots from the dirt.
She worked there, in the kitchen. While her last dish finished in the oven, she wanted to distract herself with a drink, but she ended up meeting me. I built up rapport with her, bonding over our experiences in college. She let me know she was bi, after a mild spike, though usually was more into girls. I told her most of my girlfriends had been bi (which was true.) We started to talk about theater, that maybe that was the where she could find some of the community. She was searching for that. Her timer went off, just after I mentioned it. She was off.
During the forty five seconds she was in the back her thin-ish almost athletic body got undressed in my minds eye. Excitedly we chatted again, this time for longer. Intending to stay for only two minutes she ends up stayed for around fifteen. Once the preverbal timer went off in her head she quickly stood up. In the midst of rushing away, she finally asked for my name before darting back to the kitchen.
While she was back in the kitchen an older girl, late thirties came in, and sat next to me. On the opposite side of the empty glass of gin, she swirled on a bar stool. A book with a red cover landed on the bar besides her elbows. She’d just gotten off from work. She was the pyrotechnical director for a touring band, they played a genre I don’t care for. Her words came out with a heavy German accent. She managed to live up to nearly all the German stereotypes in our conversation. From being more direct, she always stated her observations exactly, though was flattering toward my physic. To being precise, complaining, almost in a tongue in cheek way, about how sloppily her crew applied gaff tape to the stage. She preferred that it be aligned at 90 degree angles. Aware of that she was fulfilling the stereotype, she poked fun at how the American’s must see her.
Bi-girl came back but before I could join the two conversations she was taking a call on her phone. It seemed like Bi-girl had a girlfriend. From her responses, it sounded like her girl was upset with her. I attempted to get her off the phone a few minutes latter but to no avail. The conversation we had felt like it was going somewhere. Maybe she wanted to cheat? That would be hot. Was she experimenting with her hetero side? Did the couple lure men in to watch? Or maybe to cuck her gold star lesbian girlfriend? I liked that idea the most. After the approaches from earlier in the day I was comfortable owing my horniness. It felt natural too.
The woman from Germany was suggesting I try living there and I confessed my problems with America. Politics bore me, I think they’re a distraction. But as a people we could stand to be more social, less lazy, more curious, etc. Complaints suck. The mid game on this one could be improved. Part of projecting dominance is being okay with the status quo in general, it sends the signal that things tend to work out for you. If you think that people in America aren’t social a girl hears is that you’re lonely and she infers that it’s because you have little to offer. After this, her face looked less excited when I talked about traveling through Germany.
Eventually more of the German girl’s work friends showed up. I paid my tab while one of them chatted with her.
To my surprise I found another girl reading at the next bar I stoped at. I felt like I was on a roll, and wasn’t about to abandon my momentum. She worked there too. She was a bit heavier than the German girl but I liked her face. I ordered my last drink of the night, turn to my right, and start to chat. Almost all the seats at the bar were open, but I stood, drink in hand, chatting to the server off her shift.
I tell her that she’s one of the rare girls who still reads books and not just blurbs on twitter. She says she hates twitter, not an Elon fan, but she still uses it. I re-assure her that it’s understandable. Telling her I like girls who can navigate the complexity of things like that and obviously that I like girls who can read, I let her know my type. Giving her an implication that I’m a chooser, not a beggar, telegraphs high value.
She’s reading a science fiction book. I ask her if it was popular enough to have erotic fan fiction written about it. She tells me its more quality than popular. I tell her that I haven’t read the author but that if she likes quality she should read Larry Niven or Dan Simmons. Ringworld and The Mote in God’s Eye weren’t on her radar though. She explains more about the book she’s reading. A Cthulhu inspired big evil in space threatens humanity. Probably a snooze targeted at high schoolers from the 90s checked out from the library on a whim. But at least she was reading it. At least she went to the library.
A homeless guy had the cops called on him while I was chatting with her. He wasn’t threatening just paranoid, hiding in a stall in the bathroom, and wasn’t wearing shoes. We start to talk about fear. Our conversation naturally lead into it. Gathering data to use effectively is a must to push the conversation forward. While the police are walking though the bar she gets nervous. I joke that someone called them on me because I was performing the radical act of talking with a cute stranger. She takes the overt joke seriously. Maybe she’s depressed, I begin to wonder.
A psychology and drawing double major in college. She probably was struggling with something. Creativity and bad fantasy were most likely her outlet. I wonder what kind of filthy fan fiction she likes, betting that her tastes are on the kinkier side. We vibe a bit talking about her time in college, it took her 5 years to graduate. Probably does not have a good sense of direction for her life. Like many women she needs a man to give it to her, but simultaneously won’t let permit a man to lead her.
“Well at least you found a more interesting job than doing math all day.” I want to make her feel good and distract her from the cop scene. College educated women of low attractiveness do not rejoice over low status jobs. Getting fewer tips than the pretty girls get combined with the knowledge that they could’ve done something more important make for an uncomfortable reality. Hardly ever did she make eye contact. Some girls don’t, but I keep looking at her face, so that when she does decide to look my way my eyes I’m there for her. Low confidence emanated from her.
“I was good at statistics and math, I just didn’t like it.” She replied, piggybacking on my affirmation. Though, buried in her was the suspicion that what I said was mere pleasantry. Honestly, I believe that talking to a variety of different people every day in person is more interesting than just doing math alone in a room.
“Oh, that’s interesting. When most people find something they’re truly good at. I’ve found that they usually tend to like that thing.” And this is probably more true for men than women. Girls seem to find that their skills make other women jealous (here is a podcast touring some of that research.)
“I just was good at lots of things.” She said in a sad tone that made me suspicious of how true that was. “But, thank you for the dig!” Her lips curled up lopsidedly, in a display of self directed contempt.
In a higher pitched tone I attempt to console her, “Didn’t mean it that way.” A smile grew on my face, “I said that hoping you would share what you were passionate about.”
She stared at me. Contempt was gone. Bewilderment took its place. She didn’t know. No passion.
“I bet you’re good at lots of things.” She needed affirmation. Wow, this girl had a sensitive frame. After another pause and a saddening face. I said “I bet you can draw the human brain at a moments notice.”
“Actually, I wasn’t ever good with anatomical drawings.”
I touch her arm and talk about her anatomical tattoo, what I like about it, the good things it could be saying about her. Unprompted, she mentions that she didn’t come up with it. I decide to distract and reset her. So, I tell her some stories about getting my tattoos and going with friends to get their’s done. Distractions made her happy. I found out she spent a lot of time on social media, even though she hated all the content on it. The thin girls made her feel self conscious. The videos were terrible but she couldn’t stop watching them. She felt stuck working at the bar but didn’t know how to get another job.
I really felt for her.
When I got back to my apartment I open the elevator to an older woman, in a black and white striped dress holding a takeout bag. The fabric was revealing, her nipples were hard, despite the heat. With the build of a ballerina she immediately turned me on despite her age. I opened her. By the time the elevator arrived on her floor she was emphatic about smoking weed with me. I took her back to my apartment. Before I open the door she asks if I had pets. I don’t, she’s disappointed, and tells me she has birds.
More on bird girl latter…
Every girl you don’t talk to is a missed opportunity. Every girl you open is a step in the right direction. Every time you miss a number, or the logistics don’t work out, or you make a mid game fumble, you’ve gained information while getting reps in. Getting to know one more girl has value for seduction in and of itself. People are also genuinely interesting to me, getting them to open up is always enlightening.
I had met all these girls around closing time. Unfortunately, a mild alcohol buzz may have been a crutch for vibing with these girls. But, I had also done what I thought were enough opens prior to getting a drink. I had called it for the day when I met Bi-Girl and then had a series of positive experiences just vibing with these women. The pressure was off. I wasn’t hitting the streets shaking down all the leads I could find. There wasn’t that air about me that I was doing something challenging. Sometimes when athletes think to themselves that they’ve already lost the game they play better. They stop caring about the outcome, diverting all their attention the present moment instead. In the absence of competitive concerns they just focus on playing as best as they can. In a sense that’s what happened to me here. I let go of the stakes. When I focused on vibing to the best of my ability and being unashamed of my horniness rather than the outcome I gamed better.
All of them were on their own too. These girls acted like introverts. Lonely Americans out on a weeknight decompressing from work are good targets for cold approaches. So are girls traveling (according to the post.) All four of these girls were in that camp. Girls in groups need the seal of approval of their leader. Women risk intense ridicule for fucking a guy who does not get their group leader’s seal of approval. That social risk is a limiting factor for opening large sets. Girls have a thing about them where they overestimate potential risk too (see the affronted pod cast.)
These girls didn’t have their guards up either. Part of why they were receptive. One was traveling, the other two just got off work, Bird Girl was just coming home. The German seemed like she would be comfortable in any bar and had work friends in close proximity. Bi-Girl and Sensitive Server were in a very familiar place, comfortable. Bird Girl is one of my neighbors. They were already comfortable, somewhat fatigued, looking for a distraction from their post work exhaustion.
I realized that a sex positive attitude combined with a low stakes mentality makes for rewarding in field experiences. It’s easy to get caught up in the stakes, desire, and tense up. You can try to act your way around it, but people get tipped off, more often than not implicitly. The girl won’t be able to tell herself why but she wants to go back to just chatting or chugging along on their walk to wherever. I suppose this is the kind of thing that's easy to read about, to try to employ, to convince yourself that you have down as part of the routine. You can make statements that imply an abundance mentality, a lack of pressure, you can even believe it. But when you see her turn away it may still start to tug at you inside. My inner game reached a tipping point here. A pleasant breakthrough in my mindset.
>>"Every girl you don’t talk to is a missed opportunity. Every girl you open is a step in the right direction. Every time you miss a number, or the logistics don’t work out"
Yes, the reps are important.
So is taking feedback.
You don't want to be one of those automatons who is relentlessly opening but never adjusting and fixing his game.
(Not saying you personally are one of those guys, but it's a common failure mode.)