Online Dating Methods

This past Saturday night I did something I haven’t done in months; club game.

Me and my crew rolled up to the sports infused venue of ill-repute around 10ish. I like arriving early, because the girls are much more open to meeting new people. This is because the guys aren’t yet drunk, and don’t have the balls to start hitting on the girls until at least 11:00. If you choose to doom yourself to the hyper competitive environment of club game, at least do it early. Here’s a rough breakdown of the typical club schedule;

9:00pm The club opens for business. Promoters are chilling out waiting for there people to show, and there’s a handful of groups scattered about. They usually have ties to someone who works there.

10:00pm Energy starts to pick up a bit. Girls and groups start rolling in. Cliques start getting their drink on. A brave cassanova or 2 might introduce themselves to a group of girls.

11:00pm The absolute best time of the night. Girls have had 0-1.5 drinks by now, are starting to get into the vibe, and most have still not been hit on yet. They are ready to mingle, but most guys are not drunk enough yet to make a move. Best to choose the hottest targets available and go all out because come midnight, this will be much more difficult.

12:00am Garbage time begins. Many girls are getting into full-on dance mode. Some guys are getting sloppy drunk, and have begun making rude & lewd approaches to the cute girls. Girls, previously enjoying the attention, are now getting defensive and ready to leave, or hooking up.

1:00am Garbage time. Most people are wasted, and initiating conversation with new girls becomes a near impossibility. Animal instincts take over. People are singing and dancing. If you’re not drunk, you’re probably pretty uncomfortable right now.

2:00am Closing time for most. If you’ve stuck around this long, and still haven’t hooked up, now is your chance for redemption. Best bet is outside the club where girls are waiting for taxis, chatting with friends, and beginning to sober up. Unfortunately, neither of you are looking as hot anymore under the street lights. Wonder why you’re still going out to the clubs when the same girls are plentiful available during the day and online.

Anyway, like I said we rolled up around 10, and we’re just chatting about guy stuff. A 3 set rolls in and every guy in the place stares. There’s a tall leggy brunette, a short busty blonde, and an Asian/Latina looking number…basically, something for just about everyone.

I wait for them to get their drinks, sit down, and snap all their facebook pictures before I make my approach their table;
BL: “hey guys” (big smile)
HB’s: “heeeeyyyyyyy”
BL: “you guys looked so fun, I had to come meet you”
HB: “we are fun! yaaaay” (some other random exclamations all around)
BL: “so whose the leader here?”
After a brief discussion, they decide it’s the tall brunette
BL: “so, you’re the party friend, she’s the shy thoughtful one, and you over there are the mom…right?”
HB’s: “OMG, LOLOL, THAT”S so TRUE”
BL: “cool, yea I read minds. So how do you guys all know each other?”

I pull up a chair, we rapport for about 5 minutes, and I introduce one of my wings to the group. He chats up the exotic number, and I’m left deciding between HBleggy brunette and HBbusty blonde, on my left & right respectively.

They are both talking at me from either side, and it’s stressful keeping them both entertained. I need to pick a target and isolate soon, otherwise I’ll loose the momentum I’ve built. Brunette is giving me intense eye contact and smiling, but is not contributing much to the conversation. Blondie is stroking her hair, touching her leg, and asking me question after question, “what do you do, where are you from, etc.” It’s a tough call, but my body language read is that while blondie may not be as beautiful, she is more ready to party…now.

I take blondie by the hand, and say to brunette, “do you mind if I borrow your friend for a minute?” She play lectures me about bringing her back soon, because she knows king-fu, or something. I take blondie by the hand to the back of the club, and we cozy up on the couches.

After about 30 minutes of chatting up and checkups from her friends, we’re making out on the couch, and she asks me if I live nearby. I think to myself, this is a pretty good question to be asked right now. I’m half tempted to tease her with a “hey, get your mind out of the gutter!” but with experience comes knowledge, and I simply answer, “yep”. I let her plan out the logistics while she txt’s the friends, explaining that she’ll meet up with them later on.

Closing out her tab was an obstacle course to say the least. Hazard #1 came in the form of cock-blocking acquaintance, who if he saw me, would most certainly make some off-color comments in front of blondie, and talk her ear off no doubt. That was the last thing I needed at this moment, so I carefully navigated blondie by the shoulders to the other side of the bar, avoiding the landmine. Hazard #2 was blondies friends in the very next room, who would have most certainly talked her out of leaving the club with me. “but I should say goodbye!” a fairly drunk HBblondie kept exclaiming, but I knew I couldn’t let that happen, or this little fishie would swim for sure. I changed the subject each time, reassured her that she already txt’d them, and that I would deliver her back, safe & sound.

From the moment we got back to my place, it was ON. Shirt & pants came off, no problem. Nakedness ensues, safety precautions are taken, and we’re getting down with it, official. Her breasts are gigantic. Belly is flat, and waist is slim. Her Drunken state certainly detracts from the experience somewhat, but I’m enjoying this catch immensely, and reminding myself it was only a few years ago I’d hardly squeezed a pair of breasts, much less a pair that looked like these. I’m thinking club game isn’t so bad after all. Then something terrible happened.

Her cell phone rings. She answers. Her friend asks if she’s busy. She says, “nope, what’s up?”. They’re having a full on conversation. Yeah, I’m still railing her. I tell her to hang up and shut off her phone. She’s still gabbing away. I start loosing my erection. She tells her friend to hold on.

HB: “fuck me harder!”
BL: “hang up the phone”
HB: “fuck me hard!”

Despite the initial pleasure, this minute or 2 of torment was simply too much for me to deem tolerable. I pull out, pull the condom off, and start getting dressed. Eventually it sets in that she was acting like a total C word, and she starts apologizing.

The apologies turn to crying. Here I am in my apartment with a girl I hardly know crying on my shoulder about how she never does this, just broke up with her boyfriend, and how much she misses being in a relationship. I tell her I understand she’s in a rough place emotionally right now, and it would be cool to maybe see her again when she’s more ready for real intimacy, but at the end of the day, her behavior was that of a 1st class bitch, and I don’t fly that route.

She calls a cab and leaves. I check around to make sure she didn’t steal anything. Check. I call my friends and ask why I still go to clubs and put myself through this sort of drama. They tell me I’m addicted to the chase. I fucking hate the chase. I just want to meet a nice girl who knows how to cook and um, doesn’t answer her fucking cell phone during sex. Is that too much to ask?

Club game, once again, has proven to be a waste of time. Sure I got laid, but for my time and effort I could have met a drama-free girl online, or outside during the day. I’ve yet to meet a crazy while doing online dating…clubs just seem full of ‘em.

HBInnocent was the shy type. Busty, medium length straight dark hair, twinkling eyes, and high cheekbones. She sat across the table from me, freshly plucked from the internet, eyes locking onto mine stealing glances, then darting away, fearful of revealing any attraction.

We talked about online dating, her career path, the craziness of being a movie studio assistant, and her business school applications during a job market in recession. About 30 minutes in, I reached out for her hand, and felt cold, damp fingertips.

Here was a girl, who at 24 years old, had only been with 1 other guy…and she was starting to trust me. We left the diner, and I walked her to my car. “but I’m parked the other way” she said. “that’s cool, I’ll drive you over”.

I fired up the engine, and turned up the radio. Nothing gets me in the mood like public radio news. I looked at her, and while holding her hand, I said, “I don’t want you to go. I want to keep hanging out with you”. She agreed, and asked what we should do. “We could go back to my place, just for a little while though, cause we have work in the morning.” She gives me a knowing smirk. The proposition lingers in the awkward air for 7 seconds which feel like eternity. Then she gives her response. “sure”.

We sit on the couch, as people do, and the TV gods bestow upon me a season finale of The Bachelor. I tell her I would make a great Bachelor. She agrees. We cuddle, and after 20 minutes of reality TV laughs, she starts kissing me. I don’t put up much of a fight.

We try to makeout comfortably on the couch, but it’s an exercise in futility, so I place her arms around my neck, scoop her up by the legs, and throw her on the bed. That might sound barbaric, but my chicks always find it romantic, or funny, depending on who you ask.

I’m on my back most of the time, which is most unlike my standard modus operandi. But like I said, HBinnocent is, well, pretty innocent, so I’m reluctant to corrupt too quickly. Nature takes it’s course soon enough, as it does, and her shirt comes off to the thinly veiled, “I’m not this kind of girl”. As suspected, she’s sporting DD’s.

Unfortunately they’re not the firmest breasts I’ve encountered, but they are a nice round shape, and the nipples are happy to see me. She objected at the pants too, with the stock standard, “omg I haven’t shaved!”. I’m convinced girls purposely don’t shave for 1st dates purely so they have this canned objection ready to go. Pants came off a minute later with a simple flipping her around on her belly and a quick but firm tug at the ankles.

I reach under the pillow clumsily, acting as if I can’t remember if I have a condom there or not. But it’s just an act, I know it’s there. I’m allergic to latex, so I hand her the condom and say “put this on me”. Looking back, this was a risky move. It’s cost me the lay before, as it places responsibility for the final act squarely on the girls shoulders…at least in her mind.

This one was locked up though, so she obliges the request with a giggle and a “you’re so big…oh my god it’s been so long since I’ve done this”. Compliments both. By this time I’m back on top, and to my surprise, she’s the one putting me inside of her.

She asks me to go slow, as she hasn’t been with a man in years. She really is a sweet girl. I tell her it’s ok, and that I find her lack of experience endearing, even though she’s self conscious about it. But hey, I’m a guy…I’m just happy to be there.

She’s loving the things I’m doing to her body, and whispering in her ear, and begs me to tell her what to do next. Eventually, I do fuck her brains out…what can I say, I’m all about pacing.

Round 2 comes after a brief Curb Your Enthusiasm interlude, after which we get dressed, I drive her to her car, and she thanks me for a wonderful evening. I probably wont see her again.

I go home, check my inbox, respond to a couple new prospects who loved my profile, and even find a fresh phone number (score!). I leave my phone out in the event of an “I’m home safe” txt, but it doesn’t come. I go to sleep just an hour shy of my preferred bedtime…not a bad night.