Tuesday, April 26, 2005

LR: Orlando: If This Van's a Rockin'

This LR is from the first day I hit Orlando. The logistics of getting to a public computer during hours delayed me writing it up. As such, I probably lost a lot of the details. My LRs are written mostly as personal documents. Maybe that mindset will change as I implement more technique and can better convey something transferable.

Some keys:
--being funny, playful, spontaneous, cocky
--using situational openers
--pacing and leading
--just fucking going for it
--overcuming LMR
--settling for a 7 (hahahah!)
-- etc, etc

I was having a fun, high-energy day. This was the Tuesday, right after the Saturday bookstore-girl. I had about ten interactions, a couple of which I’m *sure* I could have number closed. But I was on this SDL (same day lay) quest and I wasn’t # closing. (Silly, since I ended up staying in Orlando for a week and probably could have followed up--or at least tried--thus strengthening my phone game.)

Anyway, I like to make a distinction between a SDL and an ONS. I think the difference is intention. Like, I want to meet a girl and bed her that day. That is my intention. It’s about timing, logistics, and escalating quickly. However, if I like her enough and want her companionship and intimacy again in the future, it won’t be an ONS. Like our instadate that led to an SDL will generate a post-lay Day2 in which I can do laundry and cook or we can go somewhere cool. If your INTENTION is to fuck and dump, you are seeking an ONS. This is about timing as well, because it may take more than one day to get that single fuck.

Anyway, this SDL was also an ONS – mostly because of the extreme amount of LMR that she gave me. Fuck acronyms and fuck my distinctions. I only do it for the KJs.

Anyway I was in this huge warehouse-style “Pottery” and décor place, on the prowl. I opened four women in this store (actually more counting small bits of conversation). I was kind of cycling among them. (Just found out that some call this “running short sets.”)

I was in a playful state and basically I was just teasing these women about what they were looking at or what was in their shopping carts. Asking them questions and misinterpreting their answers. Being fun and funny and spontaneous. Being me (when I’m in that one of my 27 personalities.)

These were actual openers in the store:

**“I saw you looking at frying pans for like half an hour. Which one did you decide on? I hope its quality because selecting a frying pan is like a woman’s third most important decision in her life…”

**”You must live in a dorm room. Only someone living in a dorm would put one of those silly poster-prints on their wall…”

**What the heck is that metal rack for? What would you do with that? Where would you put it?”
So with HBFryingPan, she told me about the one she picked out and this little piece that elevates it and holds it over the stove or some shit. I said, “No this is a hat. (And I put it on my head.) No, it’s one of those things you put around your dog’s neck to keep it from licking itself. (And I like tried to stretch my tongue back to my ass). She’s laughing. I say, “Make sure you wash that after it’s been on my greasy head.” And walk off. I come back with “I guess you are quite a cook. What’s for dinner…” type shit.

HBDormPoster, started qualifying herself saying that she was going to put the print in her bathroom, she really liked it, and she didn’t live in a dorm, etc. I said, “Well I think its kinda tacky, but it is your bathroom. Not everyone can afford fine art in their bathroom.” She’s laughing. I made fun of something else in her cart and walked off. I came back with “I still haven’t found a rich girl. What do you do?” type shit.

HBKinkyMetalRack says she was going to hang this thing in her bedroom. It’s some kind of coat rack. I’m like, “Ohhhhh, kinky huh!?! I know what’s up. You’re going to hang all your whips and chains and handcuffs from this. You probably have mirrors on your ceiling, huh?” She’s laughing. I say, “You’re naughty. I can’t talk to you…” and walk off. I come back with “There’s this trunk over here that you’d like. You can put all your sensual massage oils and uh… 'toys' inside it. Check it out…” type shit.

So I would just cycle thtrough the store and come through with ridiculous stuff that I had found….like African masks, rug beaters, stupid statues, and a huge roll of carpet. The carpet one was funny cause I would act like they weren’t in the isle and then I’d turn and let the carpet hit them. Each time I’d come back and say stupid funny shit AND ask small-talk rapport questions about where they work and shit.

Anyway, these women were all sevens. HBKinkyMetalRack was in her thirties and the res in their twenties. But there was another girl that led to the lay...

I’m so fucking bored writing this. Time consuming. And I haven’t even introduced the lucky girl! That’s it, I quit, no LR, just a FR, this sucks, I’m out, time to go PU. Bye.

The LR girl, let’s call her HBCandle, I opened like this:

GS: “Hey….don’t you recognize me.”
HB: Blank stare. “No.”
GS: “Well, didn’t you just walk down that isle?” (pointing)
HB: “Yeah…”
GS: “Well, then you should recognize me. Surely you recognize me! Are you kidding? Check this out. Come over here.”

I lead her back down the isle and say:
“Look at this! This is ridiculous! Can you believe this! Look at all these pictures of ME! This is incredible! How did they get these?”

She’s like OMG what a dork. Smiling. (For the dense KJs, it was an isle of mirrors.)

I keep it up like…

"Shouldn’t I be getting paid for these? Where is my royalty check? Where is my kickback? Isn’t there some copyright issue? How much money are they making off of my image????”

“Ohhhh…look at this one. This is a good picture. (strike a silly pose)…this is a good looking kid. This is my super-seductive sly glance. This is my surprise-candid-caught-unaware shot.” (I'm moving up and down the isle making stupid faces and giving them names.)

“You should get one of these. This one is a steal. Only $25.” And I put it in her buggy and leave to cycle the other chicks in this place.

Anyway, I came back with more stupid shit that I found. Made fun of shit in her shopping cart. Asked her rapport questions. Misinterpreted answers, teased her, asked stupid shit. Cycled again. Decided this would be the best target of the four HBs. (I think one had already left.) Lots of cocky and stupid and spontaneous shit and bits of rapport thrown in. Had her laughing and asking me questions and all that IOI shit.

I said, “Let’s find one of those big crates of pillows and jump in!” (I did--and broke the wooden bottom of the container. Fat ass. She didn’t jump.) I had her push me full speed on the front of the cart. We went around asking people what some device was that we found. Playful stupid shit. I’m also asking where she lives and if she can cook and what she can cook and stuff like that. I’m hanging with her like we came in together. Of course I tell her I AM ON A ROADTRIP and I had just arrived and I was looking for something cool to do or someone who could point me to something cool. I teased her about her city being lame at first glance. She started talking about actually being from somewhere else, etc. We talked about stuff in the city like the attractions and theme-parks.

GS: “Where are we going to go next? Have you eaten?”
HB: “I have to go to class in half an hour.”
GS: “Where at?”
HB: blah blah
GS: “What are you studying”
HB: fluff
GS: “Hey, at your college, is there like a computer lab or a library with computers?”
HB: "Yeah."
GS: “Do you think I could go there and get online? I have all these emails I need to write.”
HB: "Sure."

She goes to check out, buying some lame shit. I flirt with the girls over at Customer Service. It’s raining really hard. After the target checks out, I say, “Here, I’ll hold your stuff so it doesn’t get wet and you can go pull your car up to the front.” This makes little sense, but I am assuming the sale; like assuming that I am going somewhere with her.

She gets her truck, I stay completely dry (by now she is probably SOAKED all over), and I hop in and say “guess which car is mine.” She guessed my van, and I say, “well, drive me over there!” We sit in her truck, next to my van and talk about the CDs that I found in her car and my trip, etc. I tell her to burn me a mix of her favorite songs and she says OK. She reminds me of the class she has to go to.

I lean in and kiss her. Nothing tricky, just moved in slowly and kissed. Slow, passionate, open-mouthed kinda kiss.

Oh yeah, now she’s like, “I just kissed you and I don’t even know your name!” I say “I’ll tell you if you let me look in your purse. Just a peek, I’m not going to steal anything.” OK. I tell her my name. I open this up and there’s like six condoms (good sign) and I look in her wallet and get her name off her license. So now I use it without ever asking. Not a trick, or a power trip, of even solid game. Just stupid shit that I do. I don’t mention the obvious condoms, but tease her about other shit. Like makeup or a photo. I get her to put lotion on my hands; lubricated reverse-kino. Chicks always have lotion in their purse.

Anyway. She’s got to go and I say “I’ll follow you.” OK. Anyway, the college was a lot further away than she led me to think. And I made her extra late because I was driving so slow behind her so she had to go slow not to lose me. And it was pouring. This was a class at like 6:30 in the evening, BTW.

We park. She shows me the library and her class is in the same building. I’m set. I never asked how long the class was, so I was surprised by the time two hours had passed.

I even thought that maybe she lost buying temperature and dipped out on me. I went to the parking lot to make sure her truck was still there. Cool. It’s ON!

So, GoneSavage, why did you insist on following her, instead of just riding with her since you were already in her vehicle?

Good question, my aspiring PUA. LOGISTICS. I had already found out that she lived with her parents. (Post lay—found out she was nineteen.) SO…I NEEDED MY VAN AS THE CLOSING VENUE! (In retrospect, I probably could have considered an EMTY ROOM at the college.) But the van would do nicely, so when I went out to make sure her truck was still there, I tidied up the van. Threw out the used condoms and porno mags. Just kidding.

It’s still pouring outside. I’m on the computer. Finally she returns. I ask about the class. She actually missed a QUIZ because she was late, so I actually apologized on that one. Though not really my fault by any means. She said it was OK and rationalized that he would drop the lowest grade or something like that. It’s ON! So we head out, talking and laughing. It’s of course dark and still raining. I say something like, “I think that rain is so sensual…I love when I travel and I can hear the rain on the rooftop. It’s like being so close to nature; the elements. Like you’re right inside the rainstorm-storm.”

I slide the door, hop in, and then say, “Hop in.” Slightest hesitation, but she comes in. We talk about the rain, her classes, school, passions, blah blah blah. I’m holding her. It’s moderately comfortable in there. The rain does soud cool. I escalate and get LMR.

Like a shitload of LMR. Like *paused* thirty times. Some ridiculous number like that. Pause. One step back. Two Forward. Pause. Freeze-Out. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Over and over. Finally got her naked. She had a huge “wave” tattoo around her mound. And both nipples were pierced. Both naked. I put on a condom while I ate her out. She was aware. Pause. Stop. The LMR was almost entirely physical. Like no verbalizing –“I can’t” “We just met” “Not yet” or anything like that.

It was raining and very steamy in the van. Although I have tinted windows, we were both aware of the security-guard with his stupid blinking-light that kept roving around us. Ours were the only vehicles left in the lot. I was seriously ready to jus say, “Fuck it. This chick is not worth the amount of LMR.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what the issue was. She wasn’t verbal, and I didn’t want to go verbal and logical and ASK her what the issue was. I stopped pursuing and started looking for something.

HB: “What are you doing?”
GS: “I’m looking for a Sharpie. Look over there.”
HB: “What? Why?”
GS: “Here we go. I’m writing my email address down to make sure that you stay in contact with me. This is my email address, repeat it.”

And I wrote my email REALLY BIG IN SHARPIE ON HER LEG. She laughed.

I tried one more time and was in! I had to keep looking out the window for this security guard circling the parking lot. Like I couldn’t fuck her hard when this idiot was near because the van would shake in an obvious way. Maybe he knew what was going on. Who knows? But that was cool—in the van, in the rain, in the parking lot of her college, with this security-voyeur thing.

But the amount of time combating last minute resistance was LONGER that the time of the pick-up plus the sex added together! We drove off while the security dude was on the other side of the lot. He actually stopped away from us for awhile. We joked that he was jerking off. We drove up the road to a 24 hour restaurant and had a meal together. She emailed me saying she had a “wonderful time.” Love life, GoneSavage


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