I know that, among a certain cross-section of my readers, my writing has been further and further alienating me from you. No doubt the following treatise will continue that trend.
Now there are some blessed guys who can just walk into a room and fuck any sheila they see. And usually it isn’t based on anything more than winsome good looks, and a decent body.
And, really, whats to be learned about the art of seduction from these chaps ? They’ll just tell you that you just have to be confident, and that girls aren’t interested in money or good looks and blah blah blah all that fuckin’ bullshit.
Others get roots by their tenacity, and their concrete ego that is completely resistant to denials and turn-downs. There are men for whom the words ‘no’, and ‘get fucked’, mean absolutely nothing.
And on the flip-side, other guys, even good-looking rich ones, who just don’t seem to have the ability to completely self-efface and degrade themselves, which obviously is required when you want to convince some sheila to engage in primitive one-off sexual rituals.
So I am going to pass on what I have discovered. I am offensive to more than one sense, I lack any semblance of decorum, I am too lazy to even bother holding in my farts. No money. No idea of fashion. In fact I have, at first glance, absolutely nothing that a pretty lass might desire.
So it’s tough. I have had to slough away all the fluff and find the essence of it all. What is it all about ? How do us blokes find ourselves a half-decent sheila to root on a Friday night?
Seduction is that simplest of all relationships, that of killer whale and seal, eagle and hare. One person is the dingo, the other the baby; one the spider, with Armani and Rolex web, the other the fly; one the cobra, hypnotising with seductive moves and sultry smile, the other the chicken.
This is it. One chases, and one flees. Remember this always. And be conscious of which of the two you are. Because if you chase her, she will run. But if you give her a taste of something she likes, and back off, then she will chase you. So many interactions in this world are simply the echoes of anthropological archetypal roles. Knowing this allows you to better objectively view the situation.
And don’t allow yourself to become angry, or frustrated. Just remember lads – if you were a girl, would you let some hairy oaf such as yourself, penetrate your body with a sweaty and unwashed member?
The Chat-Up Line
I don’t fuckin’ know about this. All I can suggest is this: be in a foreign country when chatting up chicks. The old cowboy hat with corks swinging from it and the limp rolly dripping from my lips with a Hi I’m Dave from Australia can I buy you a drink just doesn’t seem to work so well in the Royal Hotel in Toowoomba.
In bars in America : ‘ Excuse me darling, I can never remember which one of the coins is the nickel and which is the dime.’ I mean it doesn’t matter what you fuckin’ say, they just gotta hear the accent, and you’re immediately one step ahead of all the other punters.
Her ears prick: ‘This one’s, like, the nickel, and like, this one’s the dime.’
‘Oh right, but it’s all fucked up, I mean this one is bigger than that one, but it’s worth less.’
And her face lights up when she realises how difficult it must be for me. ‘Yeah you’re right, I’d, like, never really thought about it ! So which part of England are you from ?’
A question !! Lions ask questions, deer answer them. The rule of thumb: if you’ve asked five questions, and she’s asked none, give up. Find another hunting patch.
If you absolutely have to be in your own country when chatting up girls, or in a country where your accent is reviled, then it immediately becomes a lot harder.
You could try this one: ‘Don’t you hate it that it’s the year 2007, but we still don’t have flying cars ?’
Witty as this is, it never works, apart from to mingers who would probably react well to you saying that the hormones you’ve been taking have really been making your haemorrhoids itch.
I met this Irish dude, who always appraoches women by telling them that he knows they’ve been building up the confidence to come over and chat to him, but that he thought he’d save them the anguish and come and join them himself.
He’s turning the tables. He is trying to make himself the deer, thus making them the lions. This is the goal. If they become the lion, if you just see a flash of the lion in their eyes then it is all on.
This is the juice, that ancient courtship of death and love-making.
The Approach
Little by little. Learn by the panther. He watches for their movements, he learns from them during the approach.
It’s all about two things, rhythm and momentum.
It’s gotta be reminiscent of what is to come, that being the rhythmic tattoo of your balls slapping against her arsehole, and the swelling momentum toward the kind of spine-shuddering climax that leaves her in a neck-brace.
Even if you have never given a girl a screaming spine-shuddering climax in your life, they aren’t to know. Everything about you should indicate these two things, rhythm and momentum.
NEVER PUT YOURSELF DOWN. Although feel free to leave yourself open so that she can do it ; because if she puts you down, this is the lion doing it, and you want to bring out the lion in her, so that she will want to chase you down and devour you.
So. Small steps. How do you go from not even knowing a girl, to being inside her body in the course of one evening when you are a minging bastard who doesn’t wear deodorant.
(not wearing deodorant is useful, don’t get me wrong – if you don’t manage to pick up, you can always blame that. Great for protecting the ego.)
The age-old ritual of gift exchange. Gifts are vital, especially if you don’t share a common language. If she accepts a gift, even if it’s only a peanut or some chips or a drink, this is a great sign. She has accepted something of yours, psychologically a part of you. Don’t buy off those motherfucker Iranians that wander round trying to pressure you into buying roses, don’t encourage them. And don’t kiss a chick’s hand. I used to do that gallant shit back when I had long hair, and smoked too much grass and never got laid. And it never fuckin’ works.
Get them to touch you or hit you. This is the lion that hits you. Walk around with one side of your collar upturned, it drives Virgos fuckin’ crazy, and they will accost you and fix it up. Say something rude and out of order, so they slap your arm.
Make sure the conversation is always building toward something. And make sure that it is emotional. What emotion doesn’t matter. Make sure that they can feel the chemicals burning in their blood.
You don’t remember the conversation in a night, you remember the emotion. ‘I don’t remember what I had in that restaurant, but I remember that the waiter was an arsehole.’
Make her laugh, embarrass her, annoy her, offend her, praise her (though not too much or you’ll show too much of the lion and she’ll run away), make her feel some emotion. Make shit up. Fantasise. DO NOT, AFTER A PREGNANT PAUSE, ASK HER WHAT SHE DOES FOR A LIVING. This is admission of failure on your part, a lack of imagination. Ask her what job she dreams of. Ask her what name she would like to have, and call her that all night.
And always build toward something. Keep the momentum.
Conversation is not an exchange of ideas, but an exchange of emotion, of juices.
And obviously, keep her drinking. Vital. I mean what sober woman would want some drunk munter doing that to them !
Always have your mates (preferably female if you can manage that) nearby. If this girl can see that you have friends, she can see that you are not some serial killing freak.
Same applies when hitch-hiking, if you have a chick with you you’ll get a ride that much easier.
If the girl is out with a friend, find her a guy to talk to. If you don’t there is absolutely no way this friend of hers is going to let your girl go home with you. Girls suck like that.
GET HER TO DRINK OUT OF YOUR GLASS, OR GET A WAY TO DRINK OUT OF HERS.
‘Um, Esmeralda, does this drink taste alright to you ?’
or….
‘What are you drinking ? Really, a vodka and lemonade, I’ve never tried that, do you mind… ?’
If she drinks out of your glass or lets you drink out of hers, this little mix of saliva is a definite bond, and you are that much closer. Now I am not saying that if she drinks out of your glass she will definitely fuck you, but I am saying that if she doesn’t, she won’t.
Now one definite bridge between the act of not having sex with a girl, and having sex with a girl is dancing. This, for me, is absolutely vital. I mean if you leave my conversation to it’s own devices for more than 30 minutes we are guaranteed to be talking about how as I get older my farts are starting to sound more and more like my old man’s farts, presumable because my sphincter is getting more and more slack, like the elastic on an old pair of jocks. And no girl wants to hear that.
When you’re dancing, you don’t have to talk, and this is where we can show off our rhythm ; our control, our understanding of her needs, we can hold her, all the stuff that chicks want when she is in the sack. She is transferring everything you do on the dancefloor to what you will be doing in bed.
Well I am only guessing thats what she’s doing, because that’s what I am doing.
If you can’t dance, learn. And think of all those birds you’ll meet while you’re learning.
And if the dancing goes well, the pounce is non-existent, if she’s drunk, and you’re a decent dancer, slowly she will be completely within your embrace, and not kissing her would suddenly seem wrong.
The Pounce
This is really where you really throw caution to the wind.
Watch a cat stalk a magpie. It is done in slow steps. Piece by tiny piece. Slowly, imperceptibly forward. And there is always the pounce, the hardest damn thing apart from possibly approaching her, or maintaining an interesting conversation while drunk… ok so it’s all hard. But the sad fact of the matter is, there is always the pounce, where you let out all stops, and invite her back to yours, or go in for the kiss, or whatever, where you open yourself, and wait for her to either stab you right in the ego with a shake of the head and a collecting of the handbag, or whether she gives up her pollen.
But just watch that cat. If he pounces to early, the bird will fly. If he creeps forward, slowly forward, so that the bird doesn’t even see the approach, it becomes simple mathematics.
How to know if she is willing to accept your tongue in her mouth? Is she touching you? When she goes away to the toilet, does she actually come back and sit with you? When you are slow-dancing with you, does she not recoil at your half-mongrel nestled in her groin?
Is there a mirror behind the bar – when you stand up and walk away, check to see if she is checking out your arse as you walk away.
Your inhibition is your worst enemy here.
So crush your inhibition with drugs, and strong drink. And crush hers as well with cocktails. Long Island Iced Teas are deceptively potent.
A Few Inspiring Sentences
Pray for rain, or cold weather so the two of you can huddle beneath umbrellas, or jackets.
I think first kisses have been made more in train stations than any other place, so hang around train stations.
Apparently the chemicals that induce love and lust are the same that are generated after a hot curry, or a horror movie, so keep that in mind when considering a place to go for a date.
We want distance and cool-ness in our demeanour, not the panicked desperation for sex induced by having balls filled to the brim with sperm. So have a wank before going out. Although the sex later won’t feel as gratifying, this is hardly the point.
I hope this is useful chaps. And good luck out there.