The Helsinki Diaries (Part 4 of 4)


I knew she would put up some resistance to sex once in my place, but I had no idea it would be so intense. We kissed in my kitchen but she refused to let me take off her shirt and also declined to lay on my bed. I made her a strong vodka but she held her liquor.

After an hour of standing in the kitchen without getting any of her clothes off, I knew I’d have to be more methodical about how I was going to get this bang. I decided to hit her with a three-pronged resistance buster strategy.

There are many ways for human beings to learn something. Some are auditory learners, some are visual learners, and some are experience-based learners. When it comes to breaking down resistance, some girls succumb to emotion, some logic, and some to never-ending persistence. I decided to hit her with all three.

The logic part of the program was selling a sexual opportunity that she doesn’t normally have, specifically in sleeping with an American guy, something I had initially brought up in the bar. I spelled out the uniqueness of our encounter then asked, “Do you want to have sex right now?” I hit her with this many times to get live feedback on my progress. At first her answer was “I want to but I won’t,” but later it changed to “I want to but I shouldn’t.”

The emotional part was kissing her passionately, complimenting the unique things about her, and hinting towards a future together.

The persistence part was repeatedly trying moves that I knew she would say no to. It wasn’t elegant, but I knew that some girls want to succumb to a strong man.

The key moment came when I went to lay in bed, genuinely tired. I said she wasn’t allowed to lay down with her jeans. She thought I was joking and tried to hop in anyway, but I didn’t let her. I told her that’s my rule, but she was stubborn and refused to take them off. There was a standoff. At the moment the air in the room started getting uncomfortable, I said, “How about we compromise. You can wear my shorts.” It was a reasonable request and allowed her to save face by not accepting a man’s demands, something that Scandinavian women don’t like doing. But for me I knew it was a victory because my shorts were so big for her that they would offer no challenge to remove.

She came into bed and I wrapped my body around hers. It didn’t take more than ten minutes of just minor pressure for her to ask me if I had a condom. I put on the condom and captured my Finnish flag. As it turned out, she was on her period.


In the morning Laurna watched me eat peanut butter sandwiches before leaving. I got her number and honestly wanted to see her again. She was a feminine girl with a great body—what more could I ask for? Even after napping and drinking coffee, by nightfall I had absolutely no energy. When I stepped out the door past 1am, all I wanted to do was return back home, but I was greedy and wanted to get three bangs in one week. I often read stories about guys getting three or four bangs in a matter of a couple days, but I had no idea where they got the energy to do that. After two bangs I just wanted to lay down and sleep forever.

Back at Millionaire I tried my best, but could only manage to do two approaches in zombie fashion. Even though I only busted three nuts in the past three days, the last thing on my mind was sex. A girl would’ve had to throw herself at me for that to happen, and since that didn’t go down I went home and crashed.

I felt more energized on Saturday and did a little coffee shop tour where I people watched. I was surprised by Finland and its women. I had heard bad things about how hyper-masculine they were, and while that was true compared to Eastern European women, there were still quite a few feminine beauties around. Finland offered a small but substantial selection of cute girls who spoke English, liked to drink, and had little hangups about hooking up. Maybe I liked it because I had just come from Ukraine where the girls didn’t drink much, didn’t speak English, and saw every guy as a potential bridge to a better life instead of a fun romp in the sack.

That night I went back to Millionaire for the last time. I had been in the city for less than a week and already felt like a hack by going to the same bar so much. I noticed a blackjack table and decided to try my luck even though they broke international rules by taking your money on a push. A couple of girls gravitated near me and I chatted them up while I played. After losing 10 euros, I got up feeling ready for more action. I started approaching and really did give it my all, but I would have no luck on this night.

I eventually met up with Jon and we hit the streets for some good old street game. We met two girls who he had briefly talked to at another club. One was half-Asian and the other was a blonde Finnish girl who looked Swedish. They were both 19. We rolled an afterparty and brought them to my cramped studio apartment. The problem was that they refused to drink. They were celebrating a graduation party since the afternoon and were sobering up. I did everything to ply them with alcohol besides forcing it down their gullets, but all we could manage was a lame 4-way conversation.

Jon tried to isolate the Asian girl by asking her if she wanted to grab a quick bite to eat at the McDonalds down the street, but she declined. They absolutely were not separating, and there was no dancing to hip hop like with the Thai girls. It came out that the blonde had a boyfriend and was supposed to meet up with him shortly. Thanks for wasting our time.

I fell asleep slightly disappointed. I went out five nights in a row, got laid on two of them, but felt like I had somehow failed.


For my last night I had made plans with Laurna. She researched places to hang out and replied to my texts promptly using full sentences and proper punctuation. She texted me before the date to apologize that she was going to be “8 minutes late.” She later said she was joking, but she was exactly eight minutes late.

Even after spending four months in Denmark and Iceland, it was the first time I went on a date with a Scandinavian girl I banged. Over a bottle of champagne, we had a nice chat about travel and cultural differences between Americans and Scandinavians. She busted my balls a couple times, her default strategy of being “just one of the guys,” but my lack of witty comebacks to them, or even acknowledgement, made her start appearing like an aggressive man. Once she realized I’m not like Finnish guys, she eased into a more feminine role, free of the debate vibe that is boner kryptonite.

We went back to my apartment and I cooked a small meal. She was more comfortable with the sex this time around since she wasn’t bleeding. She said, “I could get used to this.” Maybe I could’ve too. I didn’t think Finland was supposed to have girls I’d like, but here was one. I’m sure if I stayed longer and increased my sample size, I would find masculine girls that would sour that image and even out the bell curve, but if you told me then that I had to stay for two months in Helsinki during the summer, I wouldn’t object. It’s cosmopolitan enough that if I got tired of the Finnish girls I could try for some other flags.

The next morning there were no tears goodbye, but it was a touch melancholy. She told me to visit again and I told her I’d consider it. Upon leaving for Sweden, I had warmer feelings about Finland than Ukraine or Latvia, something I didn’t expect. Until I stop wanting easy sex, the Finlands of the world will remain on my radar.

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