The Swedish Girl In The Coffee Shop (Part 2 of 2)

PREVIOUSLY: PART 1

Once outside, my first approach was on a girl walking behind me. What I did was pause at the intersection, stare at my phone confusingly, and wait for her to catch up before hitting her with my night street opener (“Can you recommend a bar that is still open?”). She didn’t know of a place but kept engaging me. I knew it had potential because a girl will not talk to a man at 5am for no reason.

“Do you mind if I walk with you for a bit?” I asked.

“Sure, no problem.”

I was starting to believe I could pull, but then a few minutes into the walk she said, “Well there are my friends, bye.” Up ahead there were two girls staring at me.

I was encouraged. I started to reminisce about my Iceland bangs and how approaching lone girls late at night was also effective in Estonia. I thought about how this leads to the most anonymous sex possible, even more so than the internet. There are no witnesses and no information of the interaction is logged on a computer.

Halfway to my apartment, a lone girl was walking towards me. She had bangs, which was a good sign, but up close she was a 5.5 at most. Under no circumstance would I approach her in the club. She was wearing running shoes and some sort of smock for a coat. I approached her more out of habit than a desire to sleep with her.

She took my approach a little too well and we buckled down for a ten minute chat on the street. She was bangable, but barely. The best parts about her were her bangs and full lips. I decided not to go for it.

“Well I guess you’re tired and want to go. I don’t want to hold you all night on the street,” I said.

“We could go somewhere else,” she replied.

I must admit that something inside me comes alive when I know it’s going to be an easy bang. Before she made the offer I was reluctant to go through with it, but now that she made it clear I wouldn’t have to work, I got excited about the prospect of sex.

I suggested we walk to my place for a drink. Once there I made two screwdrivers. We sat on the couch and talked for ten minutes about how Sweden is gender neutral, and then we fucked. Meet to bang took about 30 minutes.

Her body wasn’t fat but she was stout. She had absolutely no curves. Her ass was flat. She may have been the only girl I had sex with who kept her ass fully flexed during the act, which made it seem even flatter. She made almost no noise. The sex was mechanical. Her lips were nice, however. I got my nut and after that I tried to sleep next to her but couldn’t. I felt like there was a thing on my bed that I needed to get rid of.

I moved to the couch. I wanted to take a shower. I felt superior in the club to the foreign guys who I thought were getting mediocre quality, and then I went and did the same thing. I didn’t feel so superior now.

A lot of negative thoughts went through my mind as I lay on the couch. That I was dumpster diving. That I was passing on relationships with good girls to bang what was currently on my bed. That I was on the road to associating sex with negative feelings and uncomfortable situations. That getting a good night’s sleep was better than this. That I was just in another country I didn’t like with a girl I didn’t care for.

My line of thought started to veer into just quitting the game entirely, but then I asked myself, “If she was pretty, and you liked her, would you still feel bad?” No, it’s only with these mediocre girls I fuck from one of my “I gotta get laid tonight” missions.

She got up in the morning and put on her clothes. “You’re leaving?” I asked, feigning surprise. She said she had to do some things. I was polite and asked for her phone number. She gave me a little kiss and then thankfully was gone from my life forever. I felt like my apartment was infected. I started cleaning—the dishes, the bed, the bathroom. I took a shower. I wanted to remove any trace that she was there. I wanted to repress this bang in my memory like I have many others.

I slept for much of the afternoon and got up feeling a little better. I distracted myself with some work then went to the coffee shop at around 8pm. Jenny was working the cash register, smiling like is usually the case.

“You’re always smiling,” I greeted her. “You seem like a happy person.”

“I am happy!”

“So tell me what is a good drink for someone who is tired and needs a bit of energy. Something that gives you a little boost.”

“Coffee?”

“Perfect, I’ll take one.”

The coffee shop was empty so we began to talk. I asked if she had thought of any tourist recommendations. My hope was to use her answer to segue into setting up a walk.

“Have you checked the internet?” she asked. “There is the tourism site of Gothenburg…”

I hid my disappointment. In the past 24 hours she had time to think of a potential date and realized that she didn’t want to go ahead with it. Usually when a girl changes her mind like that it has to do with another man in her life, but whatever the reason, the result was the same.

“When are you leaving again?” she asked, as I added sugar to my coffee.

“The end of the month. This means we don’t have enough time to fall in love and make babies.”

“Well we can’t anyway…” I stopped stirring and looked up. She had a nervous look about her like she was about to tell me a secret. “Because I have a boyfriend.”

I nodded. “That’s too bad. We probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway.” I smiled, genuinely happy that it was her situation and not me.

I said, “If I was mayor of a town, I would make all women wear a badge announcing if they had a boyfriend or husband. This way a guy knows what her status is. It’s a shame to get to know someone you like only to find out they have someone else in their life.”

She called my idea weird and then I went to sit down.

The coffee shop remained quiet, but Jenny kept coming around to bus the empty tables. We got into many long conversations, mostly about where I have been. I was frank with her: “Even if you were single and we were perfect for each other, I would have to leave soon anyway.”

“How can you live like that, just moving around?”

“It’s like a drug, I guess. Different cities, different women. I get bored of things quickly, like a little kid who needs to be constantly entertained. It’s fun, and it’s exciting, and I’m lucky to have this opportunity, but lately I’m wondering if it’s kind of… empty.” The naked body of the girl from just a few hours ago, with her ass clenched tight, popped into my mind.

“At the same time, it’s so interesting,” she said. “I don’t usually meet guys with your experience. I would love to talk to you more about it.”

She told me that she was going to Copenhagen for a few days. I gave her some recommendations on what to do since I stayed there for two months and then she told me that we could hang out after she got back. She didn’t qualify it by saying “as friends.” I got her number and was pleased, genuinely interested in seeing her again. This was a girl I would want to get to know and sleep with more than once, maybe even develop a little relationship.

That night I looked at the calendar and realized I didn’t have much time until meeting my friend in Croatia for our three-week party and fuck fest on a Mediterranean island. Before that I wanted to squeeze in a side trip. I already had my Icelandic, Danish, Finnish, and Swedish flags and needed only Norway to complete the Scandinavian sweep.

I planned a full weekend in Norway that would get me to Croatia in time for my friend. I had to be in Oslo in nine days. By the time Jenny came back from Copenhagen, we’d only have two possible days to hang out. I would need more time than that to make something happen with her, but I really wanted to get my Norwegian flag.

Don’t Miss: 14 Things Every Guy Should Know About Swedish Girls

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