Not Again

I notice her looking at me all the way from across the coffee shop. I look up and she holds eye contact for a split second before looking back down. She looks like she’s 22. I look back down and resume reading my book– The Great Gatsby. I notice her looking at me again. I look up and she holds eye contact for a little bit longer this time, then she looks away. She’s a hot blonde. I’ve always wanted to spend a whole day reading a book in a coffee shop. I want to be so captivated by the book I’m reading, that I forget about the external world around me. I take a sip of my drink and delve into the world of my book.

*                                                                      *                                                                             *

I’m interrupted by the girl sitting right in front of me. A different girl. She says, “Excuse me, can you watch my stuff for a second? I’m about to use the washroom.” I say, “Yeah, sure.”

As she gracefully walks to the washroom, I get a chance to get a good look at her and realize how attractive she is. I’ve never seen a girl who’s looked so good with glasses before. She’s wearing sweatpants and a cardigan. The desk she was working on had her laptop, a bunch of scattered papers and notebooks. By her attire, it was clear she wanted to devote the whole day to study. I’m thinking about talking to her but I don’t know what to say. That’s not the main issue, if I talked to her, how long would I converse with her before going back to my book and letting her return to her studies? Would I go for the number and walk out or still remain in my seat? If I did, that would be awkward. I actually need to go to the washroom now. How funny would it be if I asked her to watch my stuff as soon as she comes out of the washroom?

She comes out of the washroom, and interrupts me from my long train of thought by saying, “thank you.” I respond with, “No problem. I need to use the washroom, can you watch my stuff?” She laughs and agrees. She had a cute laugh. While excreting my bodily fluids, I’m wondering how to go about talking to this girl.

I come out of the washroom, thank her and keep reading my book. I still don’t know how to talk to her. I see that the girl who was looking in my direction earlier was waiting for someone, and she arrived. It was an older woman with short hair. I start listening to their conversation and I hear the older woman say her husband is a chartered accountant.

I decide to just read my book and not talk to the girl in front of me at all. I keep thinking, she’s too hot, she has a boyfriend, other people will see you, you’ll get rejected, it’ll be awkward, you’re not her type. I take a sip of my drink and delve into the world of my book.

Pearl Street

It’s been a very lucklustre evening for me so far. This bar is not very clean, or appealing at all. It’s definitely not something you’d see in a magazine. I feel out of place. I’m walking around the bar and I don’t see many attractive girls that are approachable. The hot ones are all with other guys or with their friends in a bubble. Approaching would mean instant shut down. The four girls we’re with are off limits too. Out of four of them, two are hot (they’re actually cousins), and out of the two hot ones, one of them has a boyfriend and the other one is 24 years old. At the condo, she says, “I’m 24, I’m a law clerk now, I already finished school.” This should tell you all you need to know about her attitude towards us younger peasants. She also says she’s the mother hen of the group. A sweet girl though. As I’m walking around looking for cute girls to talk to, I see two brunettes sitting at the bar. Both are a 6. One of them is staring in my direction. I think to myself, “she surely can’t be staring at me, she’s just glancing past me.” As I walk past them I feel a hand on my shoulder. Naturally, I turn around and I realize it’s the girl that was staring at me, and she says,

“Excuse me, how old are you?”

I say, “How old do you think?”

“Umm 21 or something…I don’t know.”

“Yeah around there.”

“No. I want an exact age.”

“I’m 19.”

“Oh your 19? Okay never mind then, that’s fine.”

I say, “How old are you?”

“Don’t worry about it, forget it.”

She walks away. I’m trying to put the pieces together on what just happened. I start laughing at the absurdity of it all and realized that I should’ve lied about my age. I usually do. The one time I decide to tell the truth about my age, it hinders me. That says a lot. I walk around the bar and I see a group of people that went to my high school. I go and say hi and ask them what they’re doing here. I’m not trying to be rude, they go to a university outside of this city. After I exchange pleasantries, I walk to my original social group that I came here with and the girls are trying to dance to house music. One of them is on her smartphone. My best friend is really drunk and high. He’s in his own world. I feel alone in a circle of five people.

I walk around and I see the girl that approached me and she’s talking to another guy at the bar. Some tool that bought her a drink probably. I return to my group again and I pretend to dance. I see a pretty brunette on the dance floor, dancing alone. She’s wearing tight red jeans that look really hot on her. She’s the type of girl that I would date. I wanted to approach her but chose not to because I didn’t wanna get rejected in front of my friends and the 4 girls that we are here with.

It’s about 1:20 am and I see a group of girls walk into the bar. They’re all drunk and screaming wildly. As they giddily walk past me in a line, one of them touches me. We make eye contact.

Saving the Best

Not even the greeks could’ve written a tragedy like this.

To start off today’s topic I thought I’d repost a Red Pill reddit thread I received a link-back to last week. Rather than give you my own summary of this guy’s situation, I felt the impact would be more significant by posting it in its entirety; and also because I don’t believe the guy really got a fair hearing on his original post.

I posted this earlier on another subreddit but it ended up getting removed because of fighting in the comments. I’ll sum up what happened thus far. I met my wife 7 years ago, she was extremely picky when it came to sex. She told me she only has been with 1 other guy before. She would never give a blow job, only would do certain positions and found almost every sex act degrading. I was frustrated by this, but I really liked her and hoped over…

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