This is actually quite close.

I didn’t get laid, but this was one of my more memorable dates. Lena was definitely not a yes girl and called for a dust down of all the weapons in the Walker War chest. At the beginning of the date she was a stroppy entitled little princess and at the end she was like a puppy dog bending to her masters every will. Here’s how I did it…

I opened her a few Saturdays ago in London. It was an odd day in that I did 9 sets (almost double my usual haul this year) and had only closed one (a third of my usual). That’s daygame – completely random in microcosm, but it evens out over the macrocosm of the year giving you a fair reflection of where your game is at.

The set itself was nothing special. She had dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, was around 165 cm tall and had a great body – slim with hour glass curves – very slavic looking. I told her she must be Russian and she said she was. I pressed further to find out she was actually from Latvia. Apparently a lot of people from Latvia, Lithuania, Ukraine and the surrounds all consider themselves Russian. Whatever. Lena was a lawyer and in her mid-twenties who had been living in London for 7 years. I took her number and we went our separate ways.

The texting was lazy on my part, and yes, I used lots of emoticons, feel free to report me to the PUA adjudication police.

Lena told me she was busy so I rolled off for two weeks and it was pretty easy to set up the date after that. I got her out last night – Friday at 19:30. She turned up 25 minutes late but text ahead telling me she wouldn’t be on time. When she arrived at the meeting point she looked very hot. Navy blue high heels, tight blue almost spray-on nylon pants, a white blouse which revealed a small amount a cleavage and a black leather jacket. Her make-up was modest with a little bit of lipstick and she had done her hair, it was long almost touching her ass. Lena was a high 7 but tonight she’d dolled herself up to look like an 8.

We greeted, I told her she looked nice and then walked her in the direction of my usual first venue. Then it started.

How was your trip?

It was great thanks.

Come on I want more information, what did you do, where did you go, why did you go there?

Have you ever heard of a stag do? – she looked confused.

Why are you talking about that? just tell me what happened.

I’m getting to that, this is part of the explanation.

I knew most slavic girls have never heard of a stag do. As I tried to explain to her what it was she would repeatedly cut me off. This all happened on the five minute walk to the first venue. I was getting irritated. I smashed through my story all the while motioning for her to shut up by hushing her mouth with my index finger. I had a princess on my hands, but she was hot so I decided to persevere. For now.

The first venue I usually take them to was closed, so I walked her to a nearby restaurant and we each had a glass of wine on stools at the bar.

I attempted to go through the comfort fluff, but she kept pressing me asking what I did in Riga. I told her that was boring and I wanted to know about her. I changed the subject and every time I’d ask her a question she would give me one word answers then flip it back on to me. I’d start answering and just as I’d get into my answer she would interrupt telling me I took too long to answer.

Are you in a hurry or something?

No, you can just be more to the point.

I changed the topic.

I like your hair, what’s the longest it’s ever been? – She pointed to beneath her ass and I touched the same area.

Here?! Really? That’s great, I love long hair.

Why don’t you have long hair then?

I’m a man, men should have short hair.

But your hair isn’t short.

I have a number one back and sides (almost as short as you can get). I still couldn’t figure out if this girl was socially retarded or shit-testing me on purpose.

I ploughed on…

Your accent is weird, it’s a strange mix of Russian and Queens English. I like it.

No, my accent is foreign it’s not English.

Well my ears tell me otherwise. My Irish accent has also changed since I left home, whenever I go back my family tell me I sound like a foreigner.

No, you sound as Irish as can be.

I was getting frustrated and fast, everything I said she would either cut me off or disagree for no rhyme or reason. I sighed, took a big sip of my wine and leaned back into my high stool (the stools had backs). I switched off, I believe they call this a vacuum. After around twenty seconds she bit…

What’s wrong?

I sat up and stared her dead on in the eyes…

Well you’re not very good at this, are you?

Good at what?

Having a conversation.

What do you mean?

Well the key to a good conversation is; one person speaks, the other one listens and responds when the first person stops speaking.

I disagree, I think I’m good at conversation.

Oh, and disagreeing with everything the other person says is also bad conversation etiquette. – She was silent and I could see she was shook, she could no longer hold eye contact.

Look, would you like me to leave? If it carries on like this then we are both wasting our time.

Are you being serious? It’s taken me over an hour to get ready and I’ve travelled all the way across London.

Well play nice, I don’t tolerate bullshit.

She almost melted in front of me, her eyes grew soft, her chin dropped and her shoulders drooped. She touched my forearm…

Please, don’t leave.

OK, drink up, we have to be at the next place in 5 minutes.

I bounced her to the same basement bar as usual and we got a couch. I didn’t dare attempt the questions game, I find it’s best only to play this when the girls frame is weak. Lena’s was like steel but as I turned up the heat it slowly became more malleable.

She asked me about my travels and each time I would launch into a story she would keep trying to interrupt and I would playfully slap her on the back of the hand “now, now, I told you play nice” and she would giggle. This happened several times.

I’ve noticed you like to touch me a lot, it feels like you’re not being real

My hands have a mind of their own I don’t control them.

I clasped my hands together and put them between my knees and clenched them together simulating my hands being tied.

I will try to stop touching you, but it will be difficult and I will not be myself this way.

She giggled and bit her lip before slapping my hands and saying “OK”.

We spoke about the usual stuff without actually playing the questions game, how many times do you do this to girls on the street? Why are you single? bla bla. They all ask the same things. I had my arm around her now and she was collapsing into my chest. I grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her in for the kiss. She gave me a peck.

You’re too direct, you should be more nice.

Are you giving ME dating advice?

Yes, you clearly don’t do this a lot.

Shit, maybe you’re right. What else should I do? – I LOL’d inwardly

You should compliment a woman more, you shouldn’t touch her so much and you most definitely shouldn’t tell her you’re going to walk out at the start of the date.

Well you brought that upon yourself.

This time she pulled me in and the levees had burst, we kissed with full tongue and she was groping me all over. It was now around 10pm and we had to vacate the table we were sat at.

I walked her to another bar close to my apartment, she was fully supplicating, we had arms around each others waists as we walked and had more pleasant conversation. We got to the bar and sat on a couch again. We spoke about what we each looked for in a partner and I reeled off a massive list. She told me I would be single forever. The vibe was good now and we were bantering back and forth. Lena told me I was much nicer when I smiled.

It was now 11pm, I asked her curfew and she told me she would get the last tube at 1am. I suggested we go for a walk, she agreed and I walked her straight to my front door. I gave her the usual line “one drink, you can leave whenever you want”.

I poured the wine and I sat on the couch playing my guitar, she sat on the floor facing me, her legs were crossed in a yoga pose as she gazed up at me in awe. After a few minutes of that I put my guitar to one side and pushed her back onto the floor, we kissed heavily and I undid her blouse as we rolled around on the carpet. I pulled her surprisingly large breasts out of her bra and began sucking on them. She moaned with pleasure for a few seconds before pushing me off and saying “NO! This is too fast, I’m not that type of girl”. I rolled off and put some music on Youtube, she chose some Russian stuff and we lay on the bed chatting for bit. We kissed a few more times and then I walked her back for the last tube.

Hopefully this is not the end of this story.



3 thoughts on “Date Report: Crushing a Slavic Princess

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s