The Highs: my first instant date

I remember back in the summer-time having my perfect day of daygame. After closing Hot Indian Flake Johnny said “you’ll look back in the future and realise how into you girls like that were and be stunned you didn’t instant date them”.

Too right. It beggars belief. In hindsight I can see the chemistry was electric. I can look back even further and realise that about my sixth set of my first bootcamp, a French girl in OnAndOn was basically wanting to fuck me as long as I didn’t fuck up. And I didn’t even take a Facebook.

With this in mind, and with my new determination to push things through I had my first instant date a Sunday or so ago. I was doing a little bit of game in Selfridges. Nothing major, just mixing in some shopping with chatting to various girls. I see a monstrously cute oriental girl kneeling, looking at makeup bags. She’s so hot my frame starts to crumble: “this girl is too hot for me… she won’t speak English… orientals are the Beta’s choice: I’m trying to be Alpha; talking to her would be a form of avoidance”. She’s smoking. Beautiful, gorgeous chestnut brown hair cascading over her shoulders, sexy mesh-like wooly off-the-shoulder top. Short skirt ,tights, black Ugg boots and a body like a can of condensed sex.

Never mind a ‘DNA tug’, I almost ejaculate into my pants just looking at her. ‘Fuck this. I WANT THAT!’ I decide and walk straight up and like I have every right in the world to do so just ask “How’s your Christmas shopping going?”.

Who says that there are magic openers? Subcommunication is everything. It opens well. She remains kneeling down and looks up at me, smiles and thinks for a second before giving her reply. It’s just…. smooth. We chat for a few seconds: we’re vibing. I’m driving this vibing. I keep it light and airy. I smile, maintain strong eye contact, good body language and good vocal tone (is there anything I do which does not go back to something Johnny Wisdom has taught me? sheesh). I talk with a laugh in my voice and it’s contagious. Even better, she remains kneeling down for quite a while (holding some item she was looking at on the bottom shelf) and I can only imagine her inner cavewoman being reduced to a quivering pile of jelly as she looked up at this massive, powerful man towering over her and blocking out the sun, like Godzilla to her tiny-Tokyo.

Eventually she gets up. We chat a bit more and despite me making a massive cultural faux pas by thinking she’s Japanese when in fact she’s Chinese (which in fact is a compliment as the Japanese are sexier) the rapport is good. I genuinely like her. With her pleasant, thoughtful and happy vibe I’m stunned to learn she is in fact mainland Chinese rather than Taiwanese, as most mainland Chinese girls are utter social retards with poisoned, blackened, twisted hearts.

After five minutes or so I’m thinking “Right. This IS GOING ONTO A DATE”. I tell her we should get a coffee. She thinks for a second and agrees but says she needs to go buy some cup she looked at earlier. I have to follow over to some other area and wait so I just sort of bugger off to the side for a bit and chat to the female shop assistant, quite flirtily, to try and look less like some Beta trailing after her. She returns and I lead the way up and out.

I take her to a place at the back of Oxford street and to my delight it’s packed so we end up squashed near each other on stools round a communal low-table. Note: I’m very careful not to do what Beta-me would have done, which is constantly peck inwards trying to create physical proximity with her in the mistaken Beta-belief that the closer you got the more likely they’d be attracted to me. Instead I sit back with my legs spread really wide, displaying my ball-bulge, back upright and arms square on my knees, head tossed back, snorting and laughing Cavalier-in-a-tavern style. Not always, of course; at appropriate moments I’d lean in to whisper something conspiratorial and kino her.

I’m determined this is not going to turn into another ‘chat’. I remember on Krauser’s blog once he went to a date with a frame of “I’m not going to be this girl’s friend; I’m going to try fuck her even if it makes her hate me”. I decide something similar; I’m not trying to SDL this girl as I already know it isn’t going to happen but I’m going to do stuff that I normally would not do and I’m going to create attraction or blow the set trying.

So we sit in the coffee bar and chat. It’s about an hour twenty in total and none of it grinds; it all feels really pleasurable and natural. Back aeons ago when I started game I always wondered how to actually structure a conversation. My current idea of how to seduce women in conversation is this…

  • Vibe
  • DHV
  • NLP stuff (visual, evocative language, stories, emotional memory-hijacking, etc)
  • Get her to qualify/invest
  • Don’t forget smile, eye contact, body language and vocal tonality
  • Kino (maybe)
  • Not fuck up

That’s about it really. Your identity is what it is. You are what you are and so is she. It’ll happen or it won’t. That’s it.

So the conversation was pretty much following the above points, of course with me leading nearly all of it. I just kept things fluffy and vibey. The DHVs were there as part of my identity, and they were grotesquely apocalyptic seeing as I actually speak Mandarin and have done time in China. Here’s an example of the kind of thing I said to her. Notice how I talk about food, which is no accident because as Ross Jeffries rightly points out women like food to pleasure and indulgence and this is a ‘seduction topic’.

Me: Do you miss Chinese food?

HB: Oh yes!…

Me: Do you like Western food? I bet when you arrived you thought it was gross. Yet now you can’t go a day without a sandwich etc. [tease her a bit about how greedy she is. Mimic her little voice pleading with her dad for a sandwich, making her feel like a little girl]

HB: You know what my favourite Chinese food is?

[she’s actually asking me questions; an IOI. And as RJ would say; she’s telling me what she likes, an even bigger IOI]

[she’s from Northern China, it’s winter, I make an educated guess]

Me: Obviously hotpot.

HB: Yes!!! How did you know

[various modesty and eye contact]

Me: You know when I first went to China I’d never had real Chinese food before. The MD of the company took me out for dinner and took me to a hotpot restaurant. I saw the big cauldron of steaming, bubbling soup and all the plates spread out over the table and I just thought… “what on earth?”.. A couple of years later when I was leaving China I organised a farewell visit. I hired the most gaoji (high class) room in the hotpot restaurant. It had a huge table with three hotpots on it.

[DHV. All true]

HB: Three! How many people?

Me: About seventeen or so. I invited my closest friends

HB: I ordered so much… [all of this in Chinese] waiter! Six plates of lettuce, three plates of frozen tofu, pig brains, ducks blood, coriander, mushrooms, three cases of beer, six bottle of rice wine, carrots, quails eggs, live prawns, bring it all, pile it up! [rather than making her want to throw up, as this description would for most whiteys, this actually makes any lovers of genuine Chinese cuisine salivate]

[she’s starting to imagine it. Her eyes roll up a bit.]

Me: Can you imagine it? [sort of get beside her and make her look outwards, sharing the vision]

It’s your farewell dinner. You’re the waiter I asked to take the picture. There’s a huge circular table in front of you. On the table are three massive bubbling hotpots. Every inch of the table is covered with plates of food: green lettuce, red tomatoes, shiny white eggs, pink pork and beef, ice-cold bottle of beer, bowls of spicy noodles. There’s steam in the room from the hotpots; a slight mist. Above the table is a chandelier casting a glow over the room. Around the table are gathered seventeen or so friends, all linking arms and holding each other. Look at them, all looking at you. All beaming in friendship. And right in the middle, sitting down, smiling and looking at you is me, raising a glass to you.  [look at her, slight pause] Snap! The picture is taken. That is my last dinner in China.

[her eyes spazz]


This is pretty much what I said and re-reading it I’m impressed by what a clever bastard I’ve become. The DHVs are all natural and not forced. I talk about food to get her turned on, I use colourful and visual language to put her in an emotional state. I’m kinoing her tiny bits at appropriate points to anchor the feelings and the bit at the end where I make her frame the mental snapshot; I’m kind of amazed I thought that up.

The most awesome thing is that none of this is fake. None of the DHVs are fictional. Talking in colourful, evocative, visual language is incredibly natural to me as, hey, I am a very visual person. Read this blog. It’s not great literature but you’ll get an idea of how I can paint a picture with words. Like a child smearing alphabet spaghetti onto a freshly emulsioned dining-room wall.

Just talking like this in general is fake though!

Nope. It’s me. This is my identity. I have zero interest whatsoever to sit with an attractive woman and talk about work or TV. I love talking about food. I love talking about memories or situations I’ve been in which were important to  me or visually appealing. I love talking to women and triggering their emotions, generating an emotional reaction in them. I struggle to conceive of what else you’d want to talk about with them. It’s all me. It’s real.

Here’s some more dialogue:

Me: I remember the first night I was in China. We’d checked into this hostel in an old style hotel. It was art-deco, 1920’s style. We were exhausted. We were walking along the Bund and I wanted to treat my friends. There’s a bar on the rooftop above the Armani shop? Called ‘New Heights’. Do you know it? Well I took everyone for drinks to that bar. It has a roof terrace. We’re sitting there at this wooden table. There’s gravel on the balcony and candles on each table. The wall into the restaurant is glass so we can see the tables inside and the piano player. The air is warm and slightly humid. Now look outwards. Stretched from far left, right across in front of us to the right is the river. It’s huge! And on the other side of the river is PuDong with the massive sky scrapers with the huge illuminated billboards on them. And the wooden tables have little tea-light candles on them which flicker and cast an orange light on our faces.

HB:Yes! Yes!

Me:Yet there’s a slight fog in the air, so they’re kind of half shrouded in mist. And there’s boats on the river with lights on them. And the sounds. The sounds… From one side we have the muffled sound of the piano player, on the other we have the sounds of Shanghai; the traffic, the music, the beggars shouting, the street-sellers, the noise!

HB: I know this sound!

The whole conversation was not just endless NLP stories like above. I was determined that I was going to make this girl qualify to me and invest in me. I’m absolutely convinced this is a cornerstone of building attraction with a woman. Isn’t this A2 in Mystery Method?

Basically I just got her talking, as for a woman actually talking to a man and stringing multiple sentences together is a form of qualification. Think back to all the Beta-approaches you did and how much of the talking you did. All of it I bet. On top of this I did some beautiful stuff. I find out this girl wants to work in HR, in particular Compensation and Benefits. Naturally I tell her I have a degree in this (true) and used to work in it(true). She asks me for whom and the DHVs just fall from my lips. She asks me which kind of HR and I say Compensation and Benefits. Do you see how natural and apocolapytic these DHVs were? This girl is currently applying for jobs. Beautiful.

Me: God I did a lot of interviews in China. About a hundred or more. You must have done a lot as part of your training?

HB: Er… no. In fact I’ve never had an interview

[how much authority do I have in her world?]

[this situation is BEAUTIFUL… just wait for it]

Me: Ok. Let’s imagine I’m interviewing you then.

[I then look deep in her eyes. I look really formal. I pretend to shuffle some papers]

Me: So…. HB…. Tell me, what area of HR are you looking to work in?

HB: [looks at me and really tries to answer]

Me: Mmmm. But why? You’ve not really told me

HB: [Panics, tries to sell herself more, which is of course qualifying herself to me. It’s only a pretend interview but it counts]

Me: Well ok. Now I have a lot of candidates here. A lot of candidates with good degrees. Some better than yours. What is it in particular about you that makes you different?

[Notice how I don’t pander to her or start flattering her like some Beta. This last statement is great. She really focuses hard and thinks deeply, looks into her soul and really tries to qualify herself]

I can feel the dynamic changing as she does this, and I love it. I tell her her answers were ‘ok’ but she needs more interview practice (I wonder who can give it to her?). I then decide I’m going to do RJ’s “Two brothers” story thing on her. This is as old as the hills and I suppose is an EV (Elicit Values) routine. I do this shamelessly. I just say point blank “I know a little game, a little test, shall we do it?”.

[this is a cut down version]

Me: You are a princess. You live in a big pink castle. It looks like Buckingham Palace. It’s in a green meadow filled with Buttercups… blah blah…You have a little pet dog, a pug

HB: No…. a Westie, I love them

[she’s investing in the fantasy]

Me: You like being a princess and your daddy loves you but one day he tells you that you’r spoilt

HB: No!

[teasing. Keeping it light]

Me: Yep. He tells you it’s time for you to stop being a little princess and to become a woman. You need a man to make you a woman.

[I literally say this to her while looking into her eyes. They spazz a bit.]

Me: Your dad hires a matchmaker. Blah blah. They have many princes on their files so she needs to ask some questions to find the best one for you…

Me: Her first question is if there were two identical princes, brothers, but one was a beautiful piano player [kind of gesturing shamelessly at myself] and the other was a beautiful dancer and could move well, which would you prefer

HB: [immediately] Piano

[Knows exactly what she likes. This in itself is attractive]

Me: Blah blah identical blah blah one is rich but a little distant. A pleasant guy but a little distant. The other is poor but makes you laugh.

HB: the funny prince! Anyway I have my own castle already

[I make her laugh for a second about her answer while gesturing at myself]

Me: Blah blah identical blah blah. One prince can really understand your emotions and what you are feeling. He is very sensitive and more feminine. He is a kind guy but in your heart you know you can probably manipulate him. The other guy is different. He knows what you feel but he doesn’t go there. He is strong. He cares but you can’t pull him in and you know in your heart you can’t manipulate him. [shamelessly RJ style gesturing at myself]

[her eyes go really soft]

HB: I …. I like a MAN. I am…. We say…. A “little woman”.

[this is Bhodisatta-crack. I’m loving it]

Me: I believe relationships work better like this. Male and female energy is different. Men have bursts of intense energy. They have a different focus

HB: Yes…

[Now I do something evil. I know her next word will be “but” so I say it at the same time as her then catch her eye as we both pause. It gives the effect we are both going to say the same thing at exactly the same time. I’m pretty sure what her sentiment is so I just go ahead and say it]

Me: …but a woman…. Flows…. Like a river… yes?

[she looks at my like I’m psychic]

HB: yes… yes…. And never

Me: ..never stops.

HB: yes.


This is, I believe, ladies and gentleman, called Deep Rapport. Give me a big hand! Our first appearance of Mr Deep Rapport in my game journey. It felt good. It felt natural. I want it again. At one point, I can’t remember quite when, the girl looks at me and says “Oh god, you really do know how to talk to women don’t you”. AWESOME. I can’t (actually I can but..) believe a woman has said this to me. Me! The ex-chode!

I’m struggling here. Part of me wants to write “EV routines are very powerful and will be a key part of my toolset” but this does not really ring true. It’s more like I’ve discovered a piece of who I really am with women, a lost piece of a jigsaw, and now this piece is back in place. The same with the ‘evocative language’ descriptive speech and storytelling. These do not feel like learned behaviour, but more like long-lost and obfuscated pieces of myself coming back into the light. I think I really am becoming ‘that guy’.

The other part of ‘that guy’ is being at-one with desire, and I have absolutely zero problems about this with this girl. I maintain eye contact. I think about fucking her. I think about fucking ex-girlfriends. I think of my beautiful, wonderful Chinese-ex girlfriend and what the touch of my fingers on her neck could do to her. I think of another ex-girlfriend who used to weep with pleasure when I fucked her. I think of my small, lithe Taiwanese ex-girlfriend writhing on the bed as I hold her little legs open and put my tongue into her. I think of how her moans sounded . I take all these thoughts and project them from my MIND BEAM, through my eyes and into her. She’s giving me funny looks. Now and again I just talk to her and ‘triangle gaze’ and just look at her lips. I can feel the charge in the air.

This is not an SDL. I don’t fuck it up by trying. I suggest we go. We share a tube part of the way. I’ve long ago taken her Facebook and number. We agree to have hotpot in the New Year. I sincerely hope that we do.

3 responses to “The Highs: my first instant date”

  1. Yeah, nice girl. I fucked her a week later. She mentioned you in passing.

    1. Are you seeking external validation again?

  2. I loved this….. Great Post! cute girl too… Krauser said the same thing about my Lithuanian Target…

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