He Who Hesitates, Masturbates

I patiently waited to order a drink behind another customer. I was looking around for talent when I saw a gorgeous brunette slide up to my left, also wanting to order a drink. She gave me eye contact then slowly opened her purse to fetch her credit card. She had trouble finding it. I wondered if I should approach her or not. I kept trying to fish for more eye contact to be absolutely sure I wasn’t going to be rejected.

At the same time, I noticed a bearded foreigner leaning against the bar. He was anxiously looking around, especially at me. For a second I thought he was gay. Thankfully he was out of position behind a screen of bodies.

The girl stood next to me for another minute or two. I looked at her some more and she glanced at me one more time, but I didn’t approach because it didn’t seem that she was definitely interested. A spot at the bar opened up and she stepped forward, putting her right next to the bearded man. After she got her drink, he tapped her on the shoulder three times and said something I couldn’t hear. One hour later I saw him kissing her upstairs on a couch.

I was leaning against the bar in a loud Estonian club. It was ladies night and with that came a solid 1:1 ratio of females to males. I could sense the favorable ratio with the increased eye contact I was getting from women. I was feeling good about the night even though the music was intolerably loud.

A girl I had been checking out for the past hour finally got up from a table she shared with her girlfriend and walked to the bar. She stopped right next to a good-looking man. I cringed when I saw her give him eye contact before rummaging through her purse. I was blocked by a group of people and couldn’t access her. My position was hopeless. I prayed that the guy wouldn’t approach because if he did I knew she would give a favorable response.

I stared at the man intently, trying to will him not to approach. He looked at her constantly while she continued to go through her purse. All I needed was for the customers at the bar nearest me to pay for their drinks and move so that my position could improve at his expense.

After a couple minutes of them standing side by side, the crowd finally shifted and she walked up to a free spot in the bar, directly next to me. After she got her drink, I tapped her on the shoulder three times and started talking. She was receptive and eventually invited me to join her and her friend. After some time chatting, her friend dropped out and we went upstairs to sit on a couch. We kissed there. At the end of the night she agreed to come back to my apartment.

I wouldn’t have been worried if my opponent guy was an average guy, but he was attractive and nicely dressed. Thankfully for me, he was Estonian, meaning he could only approach a girl while drunk, which at the time he was not. If I was in America, it would have been automatic that I’d be out-played in that scenario, but thanks to this man’s fear of approaching, I snatched a girl up that, had I been in my own country, would have been approached a billion times that night before my opportunity came.

A big part of why foreign guys are successful with local women is not the fact that they’re foreign, but because they are more confident, more bold, and more interesting than the local guys who grow up in a less cutthroat environment than American men. The shit that we have to go through to get laid is so overkill that if anything we have tone down our game 50% so as not to overload a European girl’s brain. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t change my country of birth for any other. The tough environment of America has given me a killer instinct that allows me to do well just about anywhere else I go.

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