Same Day-De(no)lay

It’s a bright, brisk Sunday afternoon and I’m strolling near Victoria with Nick. ‘What about her… I think she’s on her own… Brazilian’  he says, pointing out a girl ambling by. He’s spotted a solo girl and she’s not quite thin enough for him so he’s pointing her out to me, as I don’t mind a little more crust on my pudding than he does. I stalk up nearby and see that she’s pretty: a round, tanned hamster face, beautiful brown eyes and long, chavvy dyed-blonde hair. She’s wearing a white puffa jacket, black leggings and black leather boots, with a small rucksack on her back. She’s holding her phone out trying to take a picture of herself: perfect.

The open is easy… I laugh at her struggling to take a picture then tell her that with the fur on her collar she looks like an eskimo. Straight away she’s staring deep in my eyes and maintaining long eye contact. She then moves ever so slightly closer to me.

She closes the gap.

Krauser lists ‘The signs of a potential SDL’ his upcoming book and this is one of them.

I can sense immediately, within twenty seconds, that this could be On.

It’s a fun chat. She’s loving it. I tease her, vibe and ruthlessly extract all her logistics from her within minutes. Seriously. Within three minutes of opening I know:

  • She’s Brazilian, studying English and is here for one more day
  • Her flight leaves tomorrow evening
  • She’s staying in a hostel dorm room
  • She’s got a little itinerary of things she wants to see that afternoon

I don’t want to do an i-date. It seems on but there are a few issues:

  1. It wastes a lot of my time on an already strong lead
  2. She has things she wants to do this afternoon

Can I SDL this girl in one long set starting now? Probably not.. it’s too early in the day, it’s around 1pm, and I’d have to invest hours and hours with this girl in an obsesso-set doing a mini-tour of London with her; and I’m not really cut out for that. It’s an enormous investment at high risk. I decide instead that a Same Day De-Lay is a better choice. I will try and meet her later tonight after she’s had her fill of London and sitting down for a beer and some entertainment seems like a nice end to the day.

I decide to walk her to her next location, which is about five minutes away. It’s an on-the-fly idate, more just bedding it in really. We stroll through the park and I deliberately wander slightly away from her and idly stare into space, being dreamy and not intenso-huddling over her and creeping her out. I also use a special, upper-intermediate game trick:

I act really normal.

It’s all honest. I leave gaps in the conversation. I talk about what I like in the park. I mention what kind of a week I’ve had. I talk about how my cousin just had another kid and then I show her the picture on my iphone. I basically lay down an I’m Not A Serial Killer type vibe.

But I fractionate. I walk her over to the little fountain and we play at walking along the rim of it. It’s fun and makes us feel like children. I tell her a silly story. There’s moments of deep, prolonged eye hypno-mesmer. Half way through the park I see an old Victorian lamp shade. I stop her and ask if she’s read ‘The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe’. She hasn’t. Then I kind of accidentally hypnotise her, Ross Jeffries pattern-style.

I hold eye contact:

Well there’s a group of children in a house, an old, large house, playing hide and seek. There’s a girl, Lucy, and she hides in a big, old wardrobe. She pushes in amongst all the old coats hanging there and she moves towards the back, but it’s weird, because the wardrobe seems so deep. She pushes and pushes and then pops out the back into a snow filled wood. It’s odd. It’s supernatural. She’s frightened.

I gesture around us with my hand.

All around her the woods are thick with snow. It’s cold. It’s dark. She walks a little wondering where she is.

She’s staring into my eyes now, rapt.

Then in the woods she comes upon an old streetlight, just like this one, poking up from the snow and actually emitting light. Then she knows… this is not her world.

The Brazillian is looking really funny at me now. As Nick says in his book, there’s a good chance that no man has ever talked to her in this way before in her entire life. She leans forward with an eager look and puts her hand on my forearms for me to continue.

I tell her about Mr Tumnus, the faun, and the sardines on toast and steaming pot of tea. Then I tell her about naughty, spiteful Edmund encountering the Ice Queen. Possibly I start tapping her fur collar and her white coat and likening her to the Ice Queen and myself to little, snidey, chubby Edmund.

Do you have Turkish Delight in your rucksack? Are you trying to lure me into your sleigh?

I realize I’ve kind of hypnotized her. She looks monged. I slowly break my spell and lead her away, talking about normal things again and how I had a full English for my breakfast and how sausages are the best bit.

We get to the edge of the park and I tell her we’ll meet that evening for a chocolate-beer. I go to take her number and find out she has no phone.


The ground jerks, I stumble, and half my full-English slides off my plate onto the floor. The chances of meeting later just dropped 50% in an instant.

She keenly offers Facebook though and I add her there and then. I tell her we’ll meet at eight, right here beside the tube station. I make her look and remember the name. She wants to see the London Eye so I tell her I’ll take her there. Lastly I give her a polite opt-out, telling her if she’s tired and sleepy and can’t come just to message me on Facebook to let me know.

I rendezvous with Nick and he agrees that I played the set and logistics exactly correct. We roughly plan out how to play it on the evening, sketching out different sets of venue-progressions given different possible locations.

I daygame the rest of the afternoon then have a date at 4pm. I leave my date at 7.50pm and walk to the rendezvous. At this point I feel there’s a 49% chance of her showing up. Given that she’s female and Brazilian I expect her to be around 30 minutes late. I settle in for a wait. I’ve had quite a good day. I keep telling myself that I want the girl to show up, I want to ride the emotional rollercoaster which ends with me possibly doing her in the arse over my bean bag; I want the stomach-churning ride of emotion. On the other hand I’m right beside the Jubilee Line station and the thought of a nice, clean, fast, efficient Jubilee-line ride seems very attractive, the Jubilee-line being my most favourite tube line.

Poetry in motion.
Poetry in motion.

I start thinking of how delicious the pizzas are at my new-found pizza shop in between my destination station and my house. How light and crispy the dough is, how rich and tomatoey the topping. How polite the staff.

I decide to wait a full hour to punish myself for being lame but I’m still in a great mood. Either way my life looks awesome tonight:

Scenario One
Roller coaster date with hamster-cheeked pretty Brazilian which possibly ends with me pounding her big, round ass.

Scenario Two
Satisfying Jubilee-line ride home, huge delicious pizza and then watch Game of Thrones while doing my ironing. Good sets, idates, dates, leads and time with hot girls are so common and frequent to me now that none of them have shattering importance. I know I can go out and get the same thing again. Sometimes it’s nice to stay in and NOT date hot girls.

It’s a toss-up but I stick it and wait the full hour. She doesn’t show. In the meantime I open two sets with really hot girls who were respectively waiting for their friends. They both go brilliantly but I can sense I just won’t ever fuck the first one and the second one’s friend shows up just as I’m closing in on a number.

It reaches nine and I head home for my pizza. Such is game.

3 responses to “Same Day-De(no)lay”

  1. Biff Tanner, Esq. Avatar
    Biff Tanner, Esq.

    Shit, here we go again. Brilliant writing and storytelling, zero tangible reaction from the net.

    Yet if you’d made a YouTube channel showing you playing Minecraft, you be rich and famous.

    If you were brown and illiterate, claiming to be Syrian, you’d be given cash just for breathing.

    Instead, you brought merit to what turned out to be a popularity contest.


  2. Hi Jon,

    Do you have an email I could contact you on?

    1. @unrealBodi on twitter or bodipua at gma a-df il . com

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