My most embarrassing game mistake happened when I was 24-years-old and still in the early stages of perfecting my skills. I was learning a lot from my best friend at the time, “The Bomb,” who had a great natural vibe that I tried to mimic. We would usually hit the huge clubs in DC, but every so often we’d hang out at some college bars near the University of Maryland since we knew a couple people who still went there.
Somehow we got into a group of five girls who were freshmen and sophomores. I had my eye on Carolina, a skinny Puerto Rican with dimples and big eyes. At the same time, her best friend Katy had her eye on me, sending me messages on AOL Instant Messenger at random hours of the night. She was cute but a bit more husky and chubby than I would’ve liked. Like most men, I prefer women who are not overweight (maybe we can get a dating professional in here to verify that).
The Bomb and I successfully set a date with Carolina and Katy one weekend night. Since they were underage, the plan was to sneak them into a bar where we knew the bouncer. It would have been nice to eventually get them to my place, since my living room had a spare couch, but we didn’t talk about it much.
The date went well. We drank, flirted, took pictures, talked, and touched. At last call I randomly suggested we all go back to my house to hang out some more. The girls agreed.
Two young girls and two guys going to a private home on a Saturday night. The math added up, the logistics worked out, and if you were to tell me this story now, I’d ask, “So, how was the sex?” It doesn’t get much more open and shut than that.
The problem was that neither The Bomb or I discussed how we would close the deal. We had sex on our minds, sure, but we didn’t consider the steps that would take us there. We hadn’t even decided which girl we would take. Instead, we agreed to “see what would happen.”
Once at my place, The Bomb got on my computer and pulled up the web site of a new business he was working on, eagerly telling Carolina about his marketing plan. I messed around with my DJ equipment, letting Katy play with the decks. We were all in the same room. I didn’t offer the girls anything to drink. I knew Katy wanted me, but I still held out hope that somehow I’d get Carolina.
Thirty minutes in, the girls said they were tired and wanted to go to their dorm. The night was over.
Neither me or The Bomb were at all upset that we didn’t get laid that night. It was no big deal at all. “Maybe next time,” I told him. Even though we were knee-deep in game, our mindset of what was possible was so out of touch with the slutty reality of American sex culture that we didn’t realize we fucked up. Only now can I look back and realize our rookie mistakes, enough so that I’m sure Katy and Carolina were shocked that neither of us made a move on them. I cringe that they probably thought we were gay.
A few of our mistakes quickly come to mind…
- I didn’t understand that Katy’s crush for me made it impossible for Carolina to hook up with me first. Instead of getting at least one girl, I got neither.
- The Bomb and I went out with the intention of “having a good time” instead of getting laid. We didn’t focus on the goal. So yes, we had a good time, but we didn’t get laid. It’s hard to get more than what you imagine.
- We jolted them out of a sexual vibe with our talk about business and DJing when all the girls wanted to do was drink and fuck. It’s almost as if we were waiting for the girls to make a move on us.
- We did not isolate the girls once at my place. The Bomb should have invited Carolina to the kitchen with him to make a drink. Then I should’ve locked my bedroom door, fucked Katy, and let The Bomb fuck Carolina on the couch. It’s possible we could’ve fucked both girls that night. The sad part is that we didn’t even attempt isolation at any point in the night.
I put my head down in shame whenever I think of this story, but at the same time I appreciate how far I’ve come. I now realize that everything I do with a girl should be purposeful with the end goal to fuck her. I do not hang out just to hang out. I do not pick a random bar far from my crib when others are closer. I do not neglect to discuss the game plan with my wing if there are multiple chicks in the picture. I do not wait for a girl to make a move on me. I do not hope for girls to isolate themselves. I do not destroy any sexual momentum I’ve built up by going asexual at the moment of truth. My entire game from meet to close should be surgical and deliberate. If there’s something I’m doing that I can’t say is helping me get laid, then I must stop doing it.
You know you’re optimizing your game when you look back at nights like the one I had and quickly see the mistakes you’ve made. Unless you’re cringing at your game from yesterday, a girl will cringe at your game tomorrow.