Date with an African

I met her at Picadilly circus. Since the very average street stop and the rendezvous she’s decided to lower her SMV by a full point by butchering her afro hair into corn rows and dye them maroon. Thus, I’m uninspired. However, walking to the cafe I’m delighted to find she’s full of beans: chuntering away and trying to lead immediately.

Excellent. Something to work with.

I squash her attempts to lead, and start teasing her, mixing in a few genuine compliments. She’s from Ghana, and to be honest not that hot, and perhaps older than I realized. To my surprise I find that personality does count: as I rapidly stop caring about that and enjoy the banter.

I order tea, she orders tea and a sandwich, then I make her pay for it. “A Ghanian guy would NEVER do that!” she says.

Excellent. Something to work with.

I laugh at her. “That’s why their wives control them. Greedy little hog”.

Downstairs we sip our tea and start chatting. I quickly paint in the core logistics and background, then ask her what she was like as a child, then teenager. Commencement of rapport.

The idea is to connect. The key is to make an emotional connection. You need to rapidly reach the point where you and her feel close, conspiratorial, and like you’ve known each other for a long time. The way to do this is with aforesaid emotional connection.

Tell me a secret.
Tell me when you were most happy.
What is your dream.

It’s not a gimmicky line, you need to actually listen and respond to her answers and you also need to get her to elicit similar rapport from you.

The aim of venue one is to create a comfort and rapport bubble, but spike once or twice.

Rings. Ear-rings. Tap on the legs. “I like your eyes”.

I bounce to venue two and she accepts. Compliance test passed. “You know what that girl over there’s thinking? She’s thinking ‘MMM MMM MMMM HE SO FINE, HOW SHE GET WID HIM?’”. Laughing. Frame control.

Venue Two is a darker booth. It feels on, so the verbal escalation is more obvious. “You’re nice and thin”. “I like your laugh”. These days I’m quite direct: my core mindset on going on a date is this: “I’d rather crash the date to ashes than end up with mediocrity”. I ALWAYS make a move.

“So” I tell her, “no point fucking round. I like you: you’re sexy and funny. Do you like me then?”

She’s speechless with wonder.

“Oh…well….. look…. it’s nice and everything… but I could only ever marry a Ghanian guy. I want to live in my village in Africa after I’m married”.

Obviously she’s a grade-A moron with an avoidant, doomed Perfect Marriage fantasy (she’s 34), but I don’t focus on these vibe-destroying facts.

“Wow” I say. “That escalated fast”.

She laughs.

“To be honest, I don’t want to marry you” I tell her bluntly. “So, let’s just enjoy each other’s company”.

I keep fractionating, as one my flaws last year was keeping hammering the escalation relentlessly. I’ll dance between chit chat, attraction, rapport and humour, with drive-by intellectual mastery.

I turn round:

“You pervert. I see your lascivious African eyes roaming all over the alabaster white flesh of my finely muscled arms.”

“I AM NOT!!”

“Anyway, isn’t that a print on the wall from a Dicken’s serialization. He used to come to this pub you know? I’m fasincated with Victoriana”.
As her attraction starts spazzing her mind her brain starts shorting. She mixes giggling with random shit-tests and chode-destroying frames:

“We’re just friends, we’re just hanging out”.
“I like your ass”

“I go on dates all the time”
“Me too”

“I kissed a rich guy last week, he really wants to marry me”.
“You should.”

Time has passed. I check my watch. I must keep the escalation train running.

“Why are you sitting all the way over there? Are you frigid?” Come sit beside me. She shuffles over. I put my arm round her.

We start the questions game again. Her first, very first question is a chode-destroyer:

“have you ever licked a girl’s asshole?”

Excellent. Something to work with.

I can just imagine all the rich black chodes she dates getting terribly over-excited by this, getting pussy-hungry. The solution is easy. I just tell the truth.

“Yes. Lots of times. My ex-girlfriend used to enjoy anal sex so I used to rim her ass beforehand, it softened it up nicely”.

The questions are increasingly sexual but I keep the vibe non sleazy, which is a subtle but important tactic, and not easy to do when you’re talking about such things.

Time to push the Maddona/Whore-Destroyer frame.

“I guess a lot of these rich guys, or non-rich guys, or one of your army of African suitors, or the white hipsters who think you’re cool: I guess it’s tiring right. You’re either the perfect Good African Girl or you’re a sex object. Don’t worry. I get it. I know the secret. All women are both. Just like men. I won’t put you on a pedestal”.

The bubble is intense. The whole of the pub has drowned out. We’re holding hands, and she’s sharing her sexual secrets with me. It all comes spilling out. I verbalise it: “it’s amazing isn’t it. that we’re talking about such things but it doesn’t feel dirty. it feels comfortable and intense”.

I start trying to kiss her. She squeals but doesn’t move. I’m holding her, with a hand noticeable on her hip/ass side. She’s flopped on me but…. JUST WON’T KISS. It’s weird. The booth is private.

She won’t budge though, the attraction is strong. I try a regulation five times, even telling her that I will try five times to kiss her to show I have balls (“albeit tiny white ones”). She loves each attempt but just will not kiss.

Probably it’s a Crazy Broken Girl Rule that’s she’s got, after all she is 34 and single. Sigh…. what can I do.

No point hanging round. The work is done. It’s not on for a lay. Perhaps me in a year’s time will be laying girls like this, but me now, laying a girl who won’t even kiss…

I call it quits and leave ahead. Walking along she doesn’t take the hand or arm, so a bounceback to my pad is off. I run some comfort and humour and put her on the tube. She messages me as soon as she’s home. We shall see…

3 responses to “Date with an African”

  1. Hey I just had to give a big shout out to you, my friend. I’ve been looking at your stuff for some time now and been a long time lurker. Keep up the articles because they’re great. Any time you will be in Toronto?

  2. So you’re not in South America any more?

  3. Maybe this woman is in the same looks level as bodies? After all appearance does count to sonething.

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