Matt Forney
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How Game Can Get in the Way of Getting Laid

This is a guest post by Kid Strangelove. Kid originally published this article at his own blog on October 12, 2010, but he deleted the site a while ago so he could focus on other projects. He asked me if I’d be willing to re-post some of his articles on my blog and I said yes.

Ever get flaked on by a girl?

Of course you have. It’s normal. It’s human nature.

Sometimes flaking can be disheartening, sometimes you just ignore it and move on, and sometimes you try to learn from your mistakes. But rarely do you get a chance to find out straight from the source what you did wrong, or what she thought of you.

I mean, a flake is the ultimate form of rejection: apathy. It’s like in the pro wrestling world: the best guys are the guys the audience either cheers the loudest or completely shits on with boos, but the guys that you don’t hear about are the guys that just simply get no reaction, positive or negative, whatsoever.

Sorry, Bobby. They tried.

Bumping into a former flake just doesn’t happen every single day, but when it does, man does it feel enlightening (or embarrassing… or both).

Flash back to last week. I was hanging out with a few friends of mine, having a quiet hookah night, followed by our familiar Tuesday spot famous for its two dollar beers and amazing burgers. The Tuesday spot was overflowing with Yankee fans, since this was their very first series game against the Twins. Beer and baseball flowed through me, and I was relaxed.

But when I stepped outside to make a phone call, I saw a slightly familiar face. Who was this girl…. where did I… oh, right, I met her at a bar downtown almost one year earlier, we exchanged contact information but nothing ever materialized. All I got was dead radio silence. So as I walked by her and her friend, I looked at her and said, “Hey, didn’t I hit on you last year?”

We chatted for a bit. It was obvious she kinda remembered me, but it was also obvious that this interaction had absolutely nowhere to go. I went back inside for more beer, burgers and baseball.

However, right after the game ended (go Yanks), and several delicious but judgment impairing IPAs later, I thought to myself: “This might be your only chance to get an honest look at yourself and how you handled things.” Okay, I’m down.

It wasn’t pretty (although she delivered it in a sort of “it’s no big deal” kind of voice). Little did she know that I used to pay waaaaaay too much attention to this shit:

“It was just weird. I didn’t feel like we had any kind of connection, you were doing most of the talking, and then you tried to distract me with these weird bar tricks,” she said. “Okay, you got a free drink from me because the circumference of a pint glass is bigger than its height and you got another free drink because I messed up on a five questions game, but it was like you were performing for an audience. It really wasn’t about us, it was mostly about you. Then you swiped my phone by saying you want to look at it and put your number in there. That was just weird.”

And then I remembered how I was last year, compared to how I am now, and it all made sense. I used to be “gamey” as fuck, trying to put on a show every time I went out, and this is what happened. Yes, I got a bunch of numbers (mostly very flaky), and yes, I got some lays (though less than I would like to admit), but my success exploded when I abandoned the idea that game is the end all be all only way to get laid. I realized that I was a pretty awesome dude that just needed to be a bit more direct, physical and sure of myself.

The worst part, however, was reliving my field report from that night. It’s too embarrassing to share here. Needless to say, I was mentally masturbating over the fact that I got a hot girl to get me free drinks and got her number, used phrases like “compliance test” and “giving massive value,” and spent several paragraphs retelling a normal conversation between two people. I mean there I was, commenting about what I saw and being spontaneous, but I was writing about it like I just invented the wheel!

Ugh.

However there is an upside to all of this. I changed, I got in touch with my awesome side, and I am reaping the rewards. This all happened because I was honest with myself and honest with the girls I met, which lead to honest (and awesome) interactions. Tonight, I’m going out with a pretty girl that I met at that same bar, two weeks earlier, by having a normal conversation, teasing her a bit, inviting her to another spot and varying between talking about awesome stuff and making out. Her hobbies include playing on her old Super Nintendo. Awesome!

To be honest, I think I’m gonna go back and re-read my old field reports to see how big of a douchebag I really was.

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