I was reading a book around 9:30 pm when I felt energetic after taking an afternoon nap. Usually, I would be a bit tired and stay home, but I eventually decided to go out.

I got my low-top white Air Jordan 1, a light blue shirt, and light blue jeans. Got the tube to one of my regular bars. Handshaking/hugging my bouncers’ bros at the entry and acknowledging the bar staff. I saw a jacked Aussie guy I knew on an acquaintance level.

He was around the bar.

“I like your shirt, bro” We checked each other and used my arrival as a way to open a group of three girls nearby:

“Hey girls, what do you think of his shirt?” (Opinion Opener)

A mid blondie who could do with a Pimp my wardrobe session and a 3-month weight loss program answered:

“It is a bit corporate, but it is nice.”

I don’t remember what I said, but I could tell they were in their groove, so I ordered myself a Vodka lemonade (so much for no alcohol outside of dates). I already lost the Aussie guy who made a Beeline for a hot young Southeast Asian girl. They are usually not my type, but this one was an exception.

She had, at the same time, the big eyes and sweet smile of youth, along with the makeup and looks of mischief.

She had two friends next to her, so I decided to go and talk to them, not that they were anything to write home about, but they could use that as a leverage point going forward, as other girls could see me with them.

There was a blonde wearing a dress and Birkenstocks, and another brunette dressed in white sneakers, baggy pants, and a revealing top. Not lookers, Blondie 5 at best, Brunette 6 at best.

“I think my friend is making an introduction to your friend.”

“Yeah, he made a beeline for her” (and the girls did not cockblock him, interesting early sign, they are potentially there for fun)

“You Aussies too” (I like making wrong assessments to kickstart a conversation)

“Do we sound like Aussies?”

“I am really bad with accents.”

“No, we are from Newcastle.”

“2 Geordies, I am in for a good night.”

“You are not British. Where is that accent from?”

“Shocking, right, Paris?”

We exchanged names and ages (through the usual guessing games). They were both 26 years old.

The Australian guy left, and the Southeast Asian woman (whom we will call the Bali Girl) joined in the conversation. I asked her name and she said:

“What did you do to make my friend leave the place?”

“He said he was gonna change his shirt.”

I knew he lived close by, but still.

“How come?” I asked

“I criticised it.”

You can be good-looking and jacked as fuck, but if you have no game, this is going to screw you. He gave too much importance to what the girl said.

She was very smiley to me. I started to pick up where the Aussie guy left off, and the vibe was there; there was definitely a connection - the eye contact said it all. It is one of those you don’t remember what was said, and most likely it must have been small talk.

However, the distance between our faces was almost non-existent, and my hand was already on her lower back when it was not squeezing her tight little ass. 24yo, small top, black boots, and baggie shorts which went down to her knees (not a fan, but her 5’2 height and small frame compensated for it)

“Show me your hands.”

So, she does.

“When is the next time you are going to the nail salon?”

It looked tacky to my taste, but anyway.

“Tomorrow morning, it needs redoing.”

I continue looking at her hands and her palm.

“Do you do hand reading?” She asked.

“Stretch your hand.”

And so she does. I put mine on top of hers.

“Small hands”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Mmmhhh, [pause] yes, it makes it look bigger.”

She giggles, “I knew you were trouble.” and she slaps me on the shoulder.

Then a bar staff member checked me with a complicit look and smile, whom I had missed previously. It was amusing seeing him, because the last time I did, it was at another venue in Southwest London, and he had seen me with the Millionaire Milf I mentioned in older posts.

“Aren’t you popular?”

I just French shrugged.

I qualified the chicks. The three girls originally went to a nearby restaurant, but they were not planning to go out, which explains their sub-par dressing (to my taste, baggy jeans and Birkenstocks are No-Nos). They did not have anything planned.

I knew she was interested, but now I needed to work on the friends to stop them from being potential cockblockers. So, I included them in the conversation. What was interesting to notice was that when the Bali girl and I started chatting, they let her spend time with me. Meaning being cooperative rather than challenging, and they could tell from her body language that she was receptive, so words were not needed.

For some reason, the conversation went on me rating the dating profiles of the two Geordies.

The Brunette one was fine as a wholesome girl looking for a good guy. Did not really have much to say.

“This is not gonna attract fuckboys, but you will find a good guy with that.”

“Good, I am not into them.”

The Blonde one showed a bit more red flags and made the same mistakes that many women do, which is projecting what they are attracted to in a man onto what attracts them in a girl.

“Take off the guys in the pictures”.

“It is a group pic, and I need to show I have friends.”

“No guy wants to see a girl advertising herself with other men; keep the 2 others with your girls’ group, no more.”

Told her which one was the best to put at the top.

Learned that they were all friends who met at university and showed me some pictures of them partying there as part of some memories which just popped up on their phone.

Then Blondie told us she took a fancy to one of the two guys across the bar. But I was hesitating about approaching.

“Come on, you are Geordie, you should not be afraid, worst case, I will help.”

In the end, she decided to go there on her own. My Bali girl went with her as she forgot her drink. This led me to speak with the Brunette.

“Why are you not going there too?”

“Not really in the mood.”

“Come on, you are on dating apps.”

“I am barely on them.”

“How long have you been single?”

“1 month.”

I eventually learned that she had just got out of a 7-year relationship.

“7-year itch never fails.” I said.

“We were engaged, we bought a property, and I told him to cancel the wedding.”

“Must have been bad for you to break it all.”

“It was all good until a work event, where I got drunk and kissed a colleague. I told him, and he said he was fine with it, but whenever he got drunk, he would insult me for it, and he eventually admitted afterwards he shagged a girl.”

“Tit 4 Tat.”

“Pretty much.”

“Welcome to the streets, it ain’t easy out there”

And I continued:

“Can you tell your friend to come back?” (This works better, and I did not want to appear to the girl to mateguard)

She made a sign to come over, and she ordered a bottle.

“Do you realise this is the first time I’ve bought a drink for a guy?”

“I feel spoiled.”

We continued chatting.


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