“Try not to become a man of success, but rather a man of value.” –Einstein
The next day HBfashiondesign sends an email. It’s rather neutral, but, hey, she sent it the very next day. And she’s making an effort at sustaining our friendship:
”I hope everything is going well for you...I'm actually at my mother's house and I was so tired from my day of work that I ended up sleeping till 4 pm this afternoon. I fell asleep outside on my terrace under the sun...and I just woke right now in my messy room. I don't work tomorrow so if you have something in mind, just call me. I would love to go kayaking near Tremblant on the lake...but I need to find the number...well we’ll see! Anyway, call me, alright?”
I call her and she tells me about a couple nice things: When she went to work, everyone noticed her smiling and her positive energy. Her roommates and friends commented that she seemed particularly happy and joyful. And her parents noted that, for whatever reason, she really seemed to exhibit an exuberant joie de vivre. How nice. We talked about getting together, but she was swamped with work and family commitments or whatever. Okay, no problem. We’re friends, and I think pursing a get-together at this point would broadcast a more-than-friends expectation.
I didn’t hear from her for six days. I don’t think I called her at all. If I did call, then I didn’t catch her and I know I didn’t leave a message. Didn’t send her any emails. Anyway, this was the week that I hit my remarkable sexual streak. Things truly exploded for me (as I am still documenting). I get an email on Sunday, July 31st:
”I keep wondering where you are because I didn't get any message from you or anything. I hope you're doing pretty fine....discovering the wonderful city of ours. The thing is: I'm an expert on every beautiful aspect and detail of Montreal, so you might consider giving me a call tomorrow during the day because I would love to see you for dinner or at night I suppose. Please leave me a message telling me when you are going to call me so I can make sure to be there when you do. Otherwise, you'll miss a beautiful night with me, with everything that comes with it. I don't work Tuesday and I’m going to be in Montreal for sure. I have to catch some sleep now (even though I'm supposed to go out again...) so that's it for me for tonight. Sleep tight, and you know what? I did go kayaking yesterday....it was surreal!”
I’m playing this LJBF thing cool, but fuck me if that “everything that comes with it” statement doesn’t look like an SOI. Okay, she’s Quebecoise, so I’m sure something’s lost in translation. Not going to read into things. So I call her Monday night and we make plans to meet in the Old Port on Tuesday.
Day3A
I almost missed her again. I picked a statue that I thought was the most obvious central landmark in the area. Of course, she’s at a different statue of which I had no knowledge. I wait like thirty minutes, call it a loss, and wander off to do my thing. Apparently she did the same. We run into each other in an area several bocks away, sort out the statue mishap, and walk together for several blocks. She’s with her friend—one of the initial girls from the bar.
They take me to this hotel that displays some poems of the city’s most well known poet. They’ve done a couple fashion shows here. I take some time to explore her interest in fashion design and learn that she is very passionate and driven to succeed in this area. I’m playing the ‘friend’ role and I’m not doing anything flirtatious except for maybe very casual kino, like a brush against her arm or a playful tap. My approach is about the same with the other girl, which I guess is a little flirty, since we have not established a friendship. I lead them to the terrace of this hotel, which they had never checked out.
Leaving, we get caught in a rainstorm. My girl starts dancing in the rain and kicking puddles for show. I love this zest and zeal that she has now. Very attractive. I walk the girls to their car. My girl invites me for dinner at her place later. She describes the pasta that she makes. Me: “That sounds cool, but I kinda have a date, so I’ll have to see how that goes. I think she might be making me dinner.”
Well, she’s not even shocked. She smiles and probes a little bit asking her name and how we met. (BTW, I did indeed have a date. It was the Day2 with the Italian girl that I lost on Day3. So sad.) She tells me to call her anyway to let her know if I would be coming for dinner or not. I agree. We hug each other and part.
Well, that date went rather well. That girl had to part for work or something. I call HBfashiondesign. Of course, she asks about the date. I don’t give too many details (for example I took her to the same area that we were at earlier) and I say: “Well, this girl is gorgeous and really energetic. Great girl. But… have you ever had someone that is interested in you just a little bit more than you’re interested in them?” Haha…
So we arrange a time and place to meet so I can come to her place and we’ll make dinner, again it is late. Instead of getting uptown and driving, I take the Metro from where I am with the expectation that she will drive me across town. Or, more likely, I will stay at her place.
Day3B
She picks me up at the station. There’s a slight riff because I won’t buy a bottle of wine. She’s like, “I’m cooking you dinner that I paid for, and you won’t even get us some wine.” Honestly, I wasn’t carrying enough money. I gave her $2 and she put the wine on daddy’s credit card. She drives me to her place and I make fun of her horrible music…raggaeton or francophone pop…um, they both suck.
I cut up tomatoes and she cooks this pasta with pesto and fromage. The roommate eats with us. All conversation is neutral. I’m really impressed by all that they have organized and presented as far as fashion shows in the last two years. I insist that we have candles and that the three of us toast. Chin-chin!
Then they take me to their school, which is walking distance. My girl brings the bottle of wine. Protective buzz, maybe? The roommate has none. I have a bit, but didn’t feel tipsy or anything. We find a shopping cart on the street and push each other around. Good times. We get to their campus and they tell me the story of how they met. Stories about classes and fashion show fun and Montreal in the winter. Brrr… We walk back, and HBfashiondesign and I are singing horribly as loud as possible. Wait, to her credit, she actually has a beautiful voice.
The roommate goes to bed. We sit on the terrace. Conversation turns to sex. Can’t remember all the threads, but I know she asks this:
HB: “When’s the last time you had sex?”
GS: “Honestly…yesterday. Wait, technically it was today, like 4am.” (Not the answer she wanted to hear, but I was being honest, and I’m playing the LJBF thing to the hilt. BTW, it was HBelectrique.)
GS: “It was just a random physical thing. I’ve been worked up over someone and I needed to let the tension out. How about you? Last time?” (I noted by her physiology that she caught the ‘worked up over *you*’ bit, then I quickly threw the question back on her.)
HB: “Saturday night. He’s an ex-boyfriend back home. I’m not allowing myself to have sex with anyone new right now….”
GS: “Why is that?”
Well, the floodgate of revelation is open now. I’m kinda aloof and detached from all that she tells me. Just a listening, caring friend. Most the time I’m not even making eye contact, just gazing over the balcony as she speaks.
Well, she tells me that she’s has sex with quite a few guys (including some football player, a male stripper, etc) and she always feels empty and cheated. Like she’s not been able to say ‘no,’ she describes. Like they pursue her and she gives in, but it has never really felt like it was her choice. She always felt powerless. And it was always kinda the same. Just physical, not really emotional. Not caring, not passionate, not putting her needs first. And it was always unprotected and she gets paranoid and worried afterwards.
It’s a cinch from here. I’ll describe my sexual style in as tantalizing and as arrogant of a way as I want. Pull back. Have her chase. Have her beg. She’s obviously curious. She’s obviously looking for something that is not what she is used to. If I can put her in a trance and leave her smiling for days using only my voice, she knows I can fuck.
Notice how I am reframing her final issues while pulling back themes from our previous encounters. I also do a ‘she/you’ shift by starting out talking about the girl from last night. Damn this is good:
“I think we’re really different…I think we approach sex differently. The girl I was with last night was unusual for me. Because we didn’t share this emotional connection. But even so, I know that it was the best sex of her life. In fact, she told me so…. And I don’t regret it because I was able to give her something she was missing. I filled this void like no other man could. And it was amazing. The decision was mutual. I didn’t feel like I was getting more out of the experience than her. And she didn’t feel like she was getting more out of the experience than me. We both knew that it would be our only night together, so we didn’t have expectations. We just enjoyed the moment for what it was…all the pleasure and passion that two people can bring one another….
And we had protected sex. It shows proper respect not only for your partner, but for yourself. For me to ever have sex with a woman, she must understand this. And for me to make love with a woman she must also be aware of one more thing….My role is to bring you pleasure beyond anything you are used to, beyond anything you have ever experienced…to bring you absolute passion beyond anything you have even imagined. With every touch…every caress…every kiss…every look deep into your eyes…every penetrating word…my role is to make you come…over and over again…to the conclusion…that this is exactly what you need…and deserve…right now…”
Goddamn that’s a gem! This is why I’m a pick-up artist…to say shit like that and get the girl wet, wet, wet…
HB: “Do you want to make love to me?” (Said in a tone that is asking for reassurance.)
GS: “I haven’t decided yet… I am definitely attracted to you and very turned on right now. But I am not sure that you have understood completely what I am about. Do you understand that what I cannot offer you is a sense of future, but I will give you all I can until I have to leave?”
HB: “Yes.”
GS: “Do you understand that we will be using protection?”
HB: “Yes”
GS: “Do you understand how intense and incredible this will be?”
HB: “Yes.”
GS: “Do you want to make love to me?”
HB: “Yes.”
I can’t remember who led whom into the bedroom. But I know it was she who lit the candles. Usually when you think about a seduction, there’s a good period of time that elapses between that first kiss and the moment you’re in bed together. Not here. Something I like about this one—after that very first kiss (which had been delayed and delayed)—she’s suddenly ripping at my jeans! Naturally I slow her down and get her to enjoy being pampered and teased and savored. By the time I insert my finger, she is soaked and bucking wildly. But it just wouldn’t be complete without one little instance of LMR…
“We can’t…I can’t let you. You just had sex. It’s not fair…you can’t have two women, two days in a row…”
I continue fingering her and kissing her all over and I say, “You’re right…it’s not fair…that you’re getting all this attention and affection…being pampered and pleased…kissed and touched…exactly the way you like it…”
And we were set for the whole night and morning. The next (and last) time we got together we had sex in the planetarium (see Pt 1).
Bon moment. Aime la vie. GoneSavage
PS….just as an indicator of how she is hooked, here is the email she sent after the planetarium escapade:
”I can't seem to realize you are really gone, it's weird. The bar was closed yesterday so we changed our plans...I was so looking for you everywhere in the city in case you were walking around...I hoped I'd see you. Well, now I know where you are, well, not exactly but...anyway, it's a bad morning, I was 1 hour late to my job. I missed you so much but now I know you were gone, I'm kind of sad I must say...please, if you can, try to call me tonight, I wanna say real goodbyes. I finish working at 12pm, so if you have time in the afternoon, please ask a guy for a cell phone...or something like that. I miss you. It's not fair you left...”
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