Approaching girls here is less automatic and fun than it is at home. Regardless of how much alcohol is in me, it just doesn’t feel the same. It’s almost like a chore.
Like any other complicated skill, approaching is very mood based. The better mood you are in, the more social you feel, the more likely you will not only approach but approach well. This is why in Bang I wrote to get yourself in a room with girls if your state is especially great. For most guys feeling confident and looking good increases the chance of the approach, but I’m learning there are other factors as well. Two big ones:
1. Wingman. The best nights I’ve had on this trip was when I went out with a cool guy. He doesn’t have to be good looking but he has to be funny, smiley, reasonably dressed, and most importantly, a flirt. Most of the guys here have zero game so with their hiking boots they feel like mannequins for a generic hiking company. Plus, wingmen actually serve as emotional support so you can laugh off the rejections and keep pushing without getting frustrated or upset (“Damn what’s her problem—hey check out that girl over there!”).
2. Music. Music is great at putting you in a good mood, but if you don’t like it then it has the opposite effect. I can’t tell you how much I hate salsa music and the salsa / house hybrid that goes along with it. I just stand there, waiting for it to change, but even a a good 15-minute set of music I like does not do much for me in a 4-hour night. I like reggaeton though (I think I’m the only white person who does).
The reason I go out alone is because I refuse to go to bed early just to avoid feeling uncomfortable. My nighttime options shouldn’t be determined by anyone but myself. If you find yourself having to go out alone, the best thing you can do is to make friends with a group as soon as you get in. They will serve as your comfortable home base. If not then you will enter anti-social mode and the alcohol you drink will just make it worse.
I’m in some mediocre club alone holding a can of warm Quilmes beer. It’s a tough crowd and the salsa will not end. I’m leaning against the bar, not having talked to anyone except the bartender for 45 minutes. But I see a few cute girls. I just have to ask myself one question: do I want to get some or not? If not I’ll leave and stop wasting my time, my liver. Otherwise I go to that group of five girls, with one very nice brunette, yell “Hola” loud enough to cut through the shit that is playing and ask if they speak English. Either I suck it up and work with what I got or go jerk off on the hostel toilet.
This is going to be so easy once I get back home.