I got the call from Virgle Kent on Saturday afternoon.
“Hey I’m thinking of calling an audible today. My boy is having a big party in Richmond.”
“Richmond? You mean that place past Kings Dominion?” I said. “That’s far as hell.”
“Yeah but there are going to be a lot of sluts.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Richmond. This would be a good opportunity.”
A two-and-a-half hour drive later and we are in some guy’s house with sorority girls who are diggin’ the vibe that my 100% Huggable Care Bear shirt was putting out. Except for the token fatty who pretended she was hot, the girls were thin, friendly, and cute. I was going to find love that night, but then VK had to tell me all about how his fraternity brothers ravaged their every hole back in the day. Once a mental picture is planted, like for instance me telling all the girls reading this to imagine me hitting it raw from the back in 1-3 minutes of the most intense pleasure you could ever imagine, it’s really hard to get it out of your head.
We end up at Big Daddy’s Sports Club, which I was told is the only good club in Richmond. Considering it is a cheesy Tequila Beach clone, I started to understand why VK suggested I hype up my DC background, a nightlife paradise compared to the dive bar dreck Richmond has to offer.
Big Daddy’s is the whitest place I’ve ever been to in my life. Other than one staff member, VK was the only black guy there. Let’s just say that if you want to ensure a homogeneous crowd, enforce a “collared shirts only” dresscode for men. The only reason me and Tenderheart Bear got in is because
of my social engineering skills I wasn’t black. If you don’t account for fake tans, I was the second darkest person there. If you don’t account for the sheep dog that made a brief appearance, I was the hairiest living organism present.
I don’t like American girls, but if they are like the girls in that Richmond club, I can get used to them fast. There were two Sienna Miller clones, one Kim Smith clone, and several blondes that registered in the 8 and 9 range. With so much competition, you notice the difference in attitude. For example, if I’m stationary in a bar and there is a moving target, I usually yell “Hey” and then go into my opener. In DC I have to be halfway through it before the girl actually stops (if she does), but in Richmond they usually stopped on the “Hey”—and these girls were hotter. Is it easier to get laid there? I don’t know. But I did feel more comfortable being treated nicely.
I like to say that if you can game in DC, you can game anywhere. I know I haven’t stayed in cities long enough to be certain about their girl population, but other than New York, I haven’t been to a city that gave me a deja-vu feeling. All these techniques I learned to deal with unapproachable or frigid girls are totally unnecessary when I go elsewhere. Some players will live and die never needing the things I and others here had to learn.
The club closed a little early at 2AM. With just a little bit more time I’m sure I would have landed that motel room venue change with the two married chicks, but alas, I ended up throwing hail mary’s on the street while my wingman was engaged in expected drama with the college ex.
I was bullshiting with a couple random girls when I heard some guy yellling close to me. I turned around towards the source of the noise, and there was a guy looking at me and all I could make out was “…fucking knock you out!” I’ve never seen him before in life.
“Well that’s not real friendly,” was the first thing to come out of my mouth.
Then this neckless, swollen man pushes my chest and next thing I know there are five meatheads encircling me ready to give me an unforgettable beating. Back where I come from, you usually get warnings before a situation escalates into physical violence. If you are hitting on some guy’s girl, maybe he will put his arm around her or physically block access to her. Or he’ll say, “Bro, she’s with me.” Or he’ll just pull her away. There are a lot of things that happen before the “I’m going to knock you out” comes out. These Richmond guys weren’t playing by the rules, damn it. I got pulled out of there by one of our crew members and decided to call it a night before I ended up hurting someone.
I’m not sure if the people at Big Daddy’s are representative of Richmond or the South, but even if it’s as much as 20% worse, the vibe, attitude, and quality of the girls at this one club blows away anywhere else in DC. And most of these girls were in sororities, a subpopulation that is composed the shallowest and snobbiest women in the world. I don’t know if I’ll make it to Richmond anytime soon, but it does get me curious about what else the South has to offer.
Part II: Richmond pictures