On the day of the date, everything was running smoothly. I showed up at the foreign restaurant 15 minutes late to find her dabbling away on her iPhone. She reminded me that the food was gassy, and asked if I was ready. Let’s get this show on the road.

Eating brunch is about as eventful as you can imagine. We discussed the usual boring shit before I suggested we go downtown for a bit. She was cool with that, as long as she made dinner, where some friend was taking her out. Hmmmmm. *Bubble bubble* Oh God, that food really IS gassy! Whatever, I’ll be fine. Famous last words. The gas steadily built up as the date went on, with me holding it all in.

We went downtown to hang out for a bit. I wanted to buy a new hoodie, and hopefully make good use of the restroom. “Sorry, there’s no restroom here. There’s a Starbucks across the street.” So I held it in. We went to a museum. Perfect, a restroom! But for some reason I just couldn’t let it out in there. There were people, kids, in that restroom. I couldn’t bring myself to punish them. I’d have to hold it in, for the children.

I survived the metro ride back to her neighborhood. I don’t remember what happened on this ride, except for my mind being focused on one thing: getting outside. Even the ride up the escalator felt like an eternity, but I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Relief would come as we stepped outside. Great, we’re outside, I can create some space and let a little out. Wrong. It started to rain lightly, and we had to go get an umbrella from CVS to share. The Gas Gut kept growing.

We made it back to her place and started burning some CDs. I immediately made quick use of her bathroom, struggling to prolong the pissing while letting some air out, in the most discrete manner possible. It’s a delicate balance: letting it seep out slowly would provide only minimal long-term relief (read: 1 minute) while letting it all out would lead to a sonic boom. Disaster of American Pie proportions. I’m not gonna let THAT happen. So I stayed in there a little longer than normal, and sprayed the air freshner that every girl has at her place.

Somewhat relieved, I rejoined Tall Blondie. I have no idea what we talked about. My focus was on the apparent failure of my strategy. The grumblings were back in full force. It was as if letting off a little pressure renewed my stomach’s goal of fucking up my fucking plans and sabotaging my sexual drive. I couldn’t let it win. So I quickly returned to the bathroom for another round of pressure release. Whincing in pain while trying to hold back the flood, I let a little more out. It was quite loud. Fuck. I hope she didn’t hear it. I couldn’t tell if she had or not when I returned.

She said I could join her on the bed, which I did, rather nervously. The pain began to increase. Suddenly, my clear visions of pounding this tall blonde became cloudy. Murky. Could I hold it all in for the amount of time I needed? What if she heard? Or smelled? Would that ruin everything?? My visions of beating it up doggy style, with her groaning loudly with each powerful thrust, were changing. Instead, I heard high-pitched farts with each powerful thrust. Perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad. I started to wonder. Who knows. Maybe she’s down for some of that stinky-inky-inky? No. This is stupid. I’ve got to get out of here. Will these CDs ever finish burning?

I could no longer take it. The Gas Gut was now protruding from under my polo, which for some reason was shorter than normal, or my pants were on the ground. Either way, I felt ridiculous. As soon as the CDs finished burning, I made my way towards the exit.

I took one last look at her before she closed the door. I could see surprise on her face. And a look that told me I missed my chance. I was disappointed. But as I took my time walking to metro, my bowels let out several huge sighs of relief.

**************************

Trapped, I noticed wingman just chillin, while her friend was dancing by herself. I looked at her friend. She had a sorta cute face, but I was quickly distracted by the widest hips i’d ever seen. Watching her walk through the crowd, it was like an aircraft carrier squeezing through the Panama Canal. “Thunder thighs” doesn’t adequately describe them. More like watching that giant pile driver at a construction site. With each step, loud booms. I felt bad for what I’d say next.

“Hey wingman, can you take care of her friend?” “Yeah no prob.” “I mean if you don’t want to, I understand.” “Nah, it’s cool.”

OK I don’t feel bad anymore. “You smell soooooo goooooood. OMG!!” She grinded as hard as she could on me, and I took advantage. Why not get some fingering action, let her know what i’m about. And she didn’t resist either. “OMG you smell soooooo goooooood!” Blame it on the grey goose. I’d say we made out, but it was more like her mouth attacking mine. It was vicious. She was biting into something delicious. Literally biting. Because I’m literally delicious.

The bar crowd was already getting thinner, and nothing else was coming in. Might as well call this a night, and get with this turtle. Who cares if she was a turtle? With VK’s turtle history, I’d knew he’d approve. “Get that turtle, Rookie! Get it!” As the Rookie, I knew it was my mission.

Outside the club, it was clear her fat friend had other ideas. “We’re going back to my place. Ya’ll can’t come.” Fatty is sayin this and that, while the turtle is begging me to come with her. Duh, I’m already outside, ready to go. It was clear what I had to do. I would fight the fatty for her friend. “Look [fatty], your friend wants me. Why would you disappoint her?” “Well, you can come, but your friend can’t. I’m having another guy come over.”

I really didn’t pay attention to what she said. Instead, I tossed my keys to wingman, who said it was cool. Fatty had another guy coming over? Yeah right. She just didn’t want to say chocolate cake was waiting.

Turtle and fatty get in fatty’s car, and I’m heading for the back seat, when… *click* she locks the door and pulls away. “Wow,” wingman remarks, “rejected by fatties.” We couldn’t help but laugh. It didn’t even matter though, because I’d be seeing tall blondie real soon.

Most of the people there were in large groups, like co-workers partying beyond happy hour. That did not stop people from trying to include us in the partying. “How can you see all of this and not dance!” said one girl. I think, no, I know I have lots of rhythm, but this music was like anti-rhythmic. I just didn’t understand it, I guess.

In the corner of the bar was my shot: tall blondie, talking with her short, plain-looking friend. I made my move: went to the bar next to her and ordered another drink, and just started a convo. No idea what I said, it all just seemed natural. She was a head taller than me, blonde, really nice body, face was decent. And she just moved to town.

Things progressed nicely. I told her I had never been to an 80’s night. “Ooo I Looove 80’s nights!” Figured. She told me about her love for it. “You’ll have to make me a good CD. I don’t know any of this music,” except for the MJ that kept coming on. She agreed, and told me she make me the best CD.

Eventually Wingman came over to talk to her short friend. Oh yeah, forgot she was standing there, looking depressed. Whoops. He did his thing with the shorty. Good. I can get back to tall blondie.

It all seemed easy. However, I knew I wasn’t doing the touching to truly escalate. But it didn’t even matter. She asked me if I thought her mid thigh-high dress was too short, then lifted it to show the shorts underneath. I told her that on the east coast, she can’t wear shorts underneath that type of dress. “Are you sure?” Of course I’m sure. “But it might be bad for when I dance,” she said, as she sat back on the stool, spreading her legs while slowly lifting the dress up…

It was getting late and it was time for her and her friend to go. I suggested we hang out again. The problem that was running through my mind was, it was the middle of the week, and I know better than to do dates on weekends. But if I set it too far in the future, lots of stuff could happen until that date. Stuff that would be bad for me. Uh oh. “Oooo I love doing brunch, let’s do it Saturday!” Crap. Not sure what to do, I just went along. “There’s this Indian place that has great food. But it’s gassy.” I was trapped, but played it cool. I knew a date during the day was a bad idea. Well, at least it would be an experience. We said our goodbyes and she left.

Before I met up with Roosh and VK, I was seeing a girl. It started off as friends, then with benefits. By that time we hung out so much that you could consider us a couple, even though we didn’t make it official. We never really went out on dates or anything. We just fucked like rabbits.

That wasn’t even the best part. It was seeing in her eyes her love and complete devotion to me. I knew that I was the most important thing in her life, well second to God. As a man, that’s a great fucking feeling.

Unfortunately I couldn’t appreciate it as much as I should have. She failed to live up to my 2 rules that every girl should follow: be hot and stay hot. That’s another post for another day. I just had to end it. But while it lasted, for the most part, I was in that sweet spot, and satisfied.

Before Roosh left for the 3rd world, he told me about this girl he was seeing, and how he didn’t feel the need to go out and game because he had the “golden cock.” For him, his girl was so satisfying that he really didn’t want to go out and game. You should have seen the smile on his face.

The smile was there, I swear. I saw it.

Of course the weekends are poppin. But what about the off nights? Great for salsa/latin nights. Now I know in my intro I said I was out of the scene. For the most part, that’s true. But my love for latinas is too strong, so I have 1 night where I focus on the latin scene. So I’ll do the salsa thing and hit up another club for a real latin night. No point on burning all those bridges. Did I mention that there are latinas?

So the other week I went to this salsa spot and danced with this cute latina. Nothing special happened. As I said before, I still don’t understand that game, but I figured I’d see her the next time I went to that spot.

The other night I went back. It wasn’t a bad night. A cute asian chick decides to wear a white tank top, bra-less. While I’m dancing with someone else, I see the cute latina from before dancing with someone else. She keeps eyeing me and smiling at me, so I know it’s good. We dance, have a good time, she’s enjoying me, I’m enjoying her, so on.

But I knew I was going to the other spot soon. So I’m like “hey I’m leaving to another club soon but I wanna call you gimme your number” and she’s like “I don’t give out my number, only email.” I say “oh ok” and just turned to walk away. Then, as someone else is trying to dance with her, she grabs my arm and says “are you leaving now?” I’m like in 5 mins, and she says “oh so we’ll see each other again,” and then she dances with the other dude. I didn’t see her the rest of the night.