The Warsaw Diaries

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  1. The Warsaw Diaries

    I open this thread with a bit of fear and a heart full of hopes: this is going to be my second winter in Poland, this time in Warsaw: the capital, a historical and yet modern landmark of eastern Europe with 2 million people - hence, statistically, around 25.000 hot girls walking around 8)

    I will use this for two main purposes:

    1) Keeping notes. Tracking progress, spot patterns and mistakes in order to slowly but continuously improve my game.

    2) Criticism. This thread will mostly consist of failures - the happy endings will be detailed reported in the "lay" section of this forum - so feel free to comment, criticise, counsel or simply roast me. Just like fightings, you learn more from defeats than victories!

    But who the hell am I? A little presentation is needed, also because I'm new to this particular forum.

    Basically, I'm a mid-20s management student born in Italy that discovered the game in the summer of 2016, after a disastrous breakup of a 3-years relationship, when I found myself in need of re-build myself, both physically and socially. Decently looking (even if I've never seen my abs), I have always been a team leader, active party-person and dependable figure among my friends, controversially I always have struggled with a sense of inferiority, unsatisfaction, lack of empathy and a general self-destructive behavior, dwindling among adrenaline highs and the depths of alcohol and drug abuse. Between these two aspects, my ever-lasting love for women: not specifically a type of girl, or the number of them, but more of a personal pleasure of conquering them, having them, of loving them and being loved.

    After one year of gaming, even if my life has drastically improved, I find myself with more unanswered questions, but a renovated hope. Right now I live following the motto of a fellow Italian, the legendary adventurer and libertine Giacomo Casanova: "sequere deum, that you can precisely translate as abandoning yourself at what fortune gives you, unless you have a deep repulsion of it"

    June - October 2017

    Work hard, party harder: four months of madness. Have you ever experienced a long-lasting period of blind luck? Well, this summer was something really close to it, when all the three "Vital Ares of Focus" described in the Mystery Method shined like never before.

    Health? Check! I've managed to lose fat, get beck into my old pants, bulk up and get an overall better image of me. God, I felt so proud!

    Wealth? Oh yeah, check! With wits, charm, lies and blind luck I managed to get two well-paid jobs that allowed me to taste the good things of life one again: travels, wines, good food and tailored clothes. Those things were bad for my purse, mainly because, like in all things, I love the fine and exquisite morsels.

    Love? Good God, definitely, check! Travellers, scientists, fighters, students....Americans and Europeans; girls that I picked up in a night and women that I had to seduce for weeks; waists so thin that appeared impossible and bosoms so perfectly shaped that resembled altars where passion could please itself of breathing the sweetest incense. Among all, twice my heart was taken: a Canadian and a Brazilian, whose stories I'll write - hopefully soon - in the Lay Reports.

    Then, the time to go came again: goodbye lavish lifestyle, goodbye my lovers, family, and friends. Now life will be a bit harder, days a bit more gloomy, but I'll have to make the best of it: one true thing about the Game, is that it's not supposed to define your life, but to enrich it. I'll do my best to learn...and have fun, in the meantime

    03-15 October 2017

    I arrived in Warsaw in the early morning of the 3rd October, with a gloomy sky and hopeful spirit. Durin the short trip to the dormitory, I tried to assess my state of mind: displaced, tired, nervous, anxious, scared. How I could handle parties in that state of mind, and how to profit from them? Then I realized that probably I wasn't different from any other student that I was going to meet there, and in order to appear (and possibly feel) confident and at ease, I just had to behave normally, smile, and go with the flow. It's a game, after all.

    In a mildly stressful situation, which is your technique to calm down and get ready to sarge?

    The memories of the following nights are a bit confused, but I'll try to remember a few nice episodes.

    First Night
    The meeting with other students soon degenerated into a vodka-fueled oniric scenario. While running from one place to the other, a challenge came out: drink a shot of vodka without using your hands, that I immediately interpreted as "find someone to pour shouts into your throat"...and I also noticed that sitting at a table nearby there was a 4set.

    They were mid-20's polish girls, average-looking, kinda bored by their own conversation, so I decided to jump in. I didn't want to spent too much time on them, so I went for a direct opener and asked them to pour shots into my throat; while waiting for the bartender to bring us the shots I threw in some info about why I was there, why a choose Poland to stay, asking at the same time opinions about the city - always trying to convey a sense of confidence and fun through my body language and gazing at them. After the first couple of shots (that, by tat time of the night, summed up around a 12-15 shots total) the memories went blurry, but my friends later described the scene in terms that I can identify as the usual DHV, neg to target, DHV, moving to other location, group merging. Next day I woke up with 3 of their four numbers, so I suppose it went well.

    Next time I should try to get a close, or at least to set up a time bridge in order to plan a proper close. Unfortunately, I can't remember if I did or not, because I was roaring drunk.

    The Cubano Night
    A few days later, I fund myself in which is, in my opinion, the best club in Warsaw, the Teatro Cubano: latin music, nice vibes, dancefloor on one side and chatting tables on the other, awesome bar just in the middle...a perfect set up for a pickup. I went there with a few friends of mine, mostly girls, and I walked into the club with two of them, holding arms at my side.

    The night went on smoothly, dancing and kissing here and there all along the dance floor. I followed a tip a Brazilian flame once told me: don't go in right away, flirt a bit and smile first if you happen to make eye contact with a girl looking at you. After that, you go in for a dance with both confidence and respect. That worked really well...maybe a bit too well.

    I danced for the whole night with an undefined number of girls, usually more than one at a time, without noticing that I could appear a try-hard and that I haven't selected a specific target. That became evident when I tried to move to another location with one of them: she complimented to me that I was a good dancer, a nice guy, and apparently I was good with girls...but that also she would have like to feel "the special one", not like every other girl around.

    What do you think about that? HAve you ever found yourself in a similar situation?

    No need to say that was the end of the night: good fun, met a lot of girls, took a few names and numbers, a few kiss-close, and a couple of dates...but nothing more.

  4. A date with A.
    After a brief chat on Tinder, we decided to meet for a beer: her red long coat was a striking contrast between the grey buildings of the main square and the pale sky under the light autumn rain. A tall, confident blonde, she was the perfect example of a typical east-german girl.

    We moved to the Hard Rock CafÚ, and in the meantime I laid the ground for a later secondary comfort building location, keeping coherent at the same time to my previous Tinder chat. I achieved that quite easily in this way:

    Being new in Warsaw and having received quite a complicated amount of matches do deal with them singularly (137 in 10 days), I standardized the approach for research purposes - yeah, not very romantic, but it seems to work

    1) "I just arrived in Warsaw, how's like living in here? "
    2) A handful of messages in order to get to know her better and evaluate subsequent moves
    3) "Also...I'm still looking for a nice pub to call "mine" during my stay here in Warsaw! I mean, they're all nice, but I have still to find one where to feel at home, just like the "Na Druga" I had in Sopot. Do you have any suggestion?"
    4) Evaluate her answer, thank propose a meeting

    What's your opinion on this kind of approach? How do you suggest to improve it, and which are its flaws?

    Anyway, the meeting went on smoothly and by the manual, following precisely the MM. I won't bother you with a de Kltailed explanation, but I can PM you if needed. Also, because it was ultimately not interesting: she was a good conversationalist, a nice person, and an interesting girl under many aspects, but ultimately our meeting left me unsurprised. More than finding a human connection, I trained.

    She had to meet her friends, I had to meet mine, and we decided to see each other again the following week. Kiss-close, and completely forgot about her since yesterday, like that evening never happened.

    Klub Park

    "Hey, if you bring enough people you'll get a complimentary bottle of vodka!" That was enough to convince me, and I managed to sum up a few friends to follow me to the Klub Park, a barely decent club south of the city center. As the usual Warsaw night out, I remember half of it, but there's an anecdote I would like to point out.

    We are on the dancefloor, a group of friends of both sexes, trying to follow the rising beats of the house music pouring loudly from the speakers, while I notice a guy trying speaking in the ears of one of our girls. She ignores him, and the guy simply grabs her hips. She's not pleased, not at all, but she's small and afraid. A thing that I've never accepted is rudeness, and having worked as a bouncer I intervened almost mechanically. The guy seems to understand that's better to leave, and goes away, while the girl whispers "thank you" and moves closer to me. The scenes repeat itself a few other times, with more rude guys and more afraid girls, until I realize that around me and my two buddies there are 11 girls.

    Which are your impressions about that situation? Was it a positive or negative behaviour?

    The night proceeds smoothly with closer dances, a few kisses, planned day 2s and...nothing more. Even that night I couldn't lay a girl, and I couldn't even get properly drunk.

    16-22 October 2017

    The second week came and passed without any relevant facts. A usual training: 4 days a week out gaming - always nightgame, need to find a way also to practice daygame - clubs, some kiss closes, FB contacts (numbers seem a bit out of date, unfortunately). Just a relevant night before the mad weekend in GdÓnsk that was waiting for me...

    Stepping into the Fajika bar in Warsaw is like dive through the clouds and land in a bazaar: dozens of people packed up under the warm lights, puffing calmly from the hookahs, chatting. I came there late to meet some other students, to run away from the glooming sadness of reading Russian authors...and to meet K., a brilliant financial analyst that I knew days before. The group was already there since the evening, I didn't know almost anybody, so it was a bit hard to open the whole set: my openings were half ignored and my energy was dissipated into the general calm mood of the nicotine-induced high.

    Which kind of approach do you suggest in situations where all your openings and routines seem to be ineffective?

    Luck came at my side while K. came back from the bathroom and sit at my side, giggling and smiling. We chatted a bit, shared the hookah, and generally having a good time; it went well for a good half an hour, but unfortunately, being the only foreigner there, they soon started to chat in Polish and I was cut off the conversation with K. by another guy - I still have to develop a decent language skill.

    Language is one of the pillars of the game - how can you overcome that kind of language barriers?

    I moved to another table, where I found a couple of friends of mine sharing another hookah, and start chatting a bit more. Without notice, another group of friends joined our table, among them a strange couple: M., a small but lovely skinny blonde and the usual Nice Guy trying desperately to pick her up - she would have been wasted on such a guy, and even if he's clearly fond of her, I decided to intervene. We were happily smoking together the hookah while sipping a delicious ice-cold beer - in the meantime, I keep the group entertained with a few funny stories. After a while, a friend of mine (and, probably, soon-to-be wingman) suggest some student-smoking: one breathes in from the hookah and then breathes out into someone else mouth while kissing. The Nice Guy tries with M, but he's too embarrassed to actually kiss her, and simply puffs in her face. I breathe in, look at M., gently passing a hand on her neck and start kissing her in front of the Nice Guy and the quite surprised rest of the group...and K. that stopped talking to the other guy and was staring at me. I haven't even shared a word with her.

    After a while, the group splits and everybody was heading home again. For some unknown reason - except probably the pints that I drank - I lost sight of M., ending up instead hand in hand with K., who is strangely nicer with me than before. We confusely went back home: no lay, no kiss close, but a hell of a lot of kino and a day2.

    In a similar situation - even better if sober - which one of the 2 girls could have been properly seduced, and why?

  6. GdÓnsk
    B., my long-time Polish friend, just came back from GdÓnsk, and I took the chance to pass by, to see both him and the marvelous city that I called home for 6 months last year - and has still a special place in my heart. Unfortunately, B., maybe by mistake or thinking to do me a favour, told about my trip to that bunch of young degenerate libertines, full of life and self-destructive behaviors, that I used to call "The Family" and who used to call me "The Old Man". Not even half a day passed that I received a message from E., my great Polish love that I broke up with in March, to who I sacrificed sleepless nights, empty bottles and a piece of my heart: I would have passed my nights in GdÓnsk at the Family's apartment, drinking for J.'s 20th birthday - a nice young fella in a complicate relationship with vodka, a member of the Family, one of my "kids". Just some details about E.: looks of a 7, and yet for me was a 9. Charming, passionate, nerdy, exceedingly smart, damn awesome between the sheets...she was a free soul, and that kind is rare, and yet you know it when you see it - basically because you feel good, very good when you are near or with them. I would like to write something poetic about our story, but in the end is that I’ve been fooled again. Fell in love, banged others just to be sure, love confirmed, love died, deep alcohol-fueled depression that lasted months, banged a dozen or so just to forget about her. Seeing her again, maybe drunk? Bad, bad idea, but I foolishly hoped for the best. By then, I should have remembered that old Venetian motto, that says more or less "the only good premonition that a man can somehow rely on is the one that predicts harm, it comes from the soul; the one that predicts happiness comes from the heart, and the heat is a lunatic worthy of relying on the mad luck". Useless to say, I forgot about that and book a 5-hour ride to the Baltic sea by bus. Good god, after two weeks of abstinence, I could really need a good fuck, and I was right...but not in the way that I thought.


    I finally reach the apartment - a cozy place that looks like an Ikea store - I find them all already tipsy, and I start my Baltic weekend with half a pint of vodka at 6 pm. Goddamn the vodka, it tricks me every time and turns me into a sentimental slob: my gaze lands on the soft tattooed shoulders of E., on her cinder-blonde hair and on the scars on her forearm. Letting loose the most helpless fantasy, I fell in love again. I know it's wrong, it was a toxic relationship the one we had, and now she's with a shallow Danish guy, but at least my kids told me she seems happy and that's right but she becomes again a rusty nail planted in my mind, like a nostalgia. Ancient poets, as well as M. Weiner, were right about nostalgia: in Greek, "nostalgia" literally means, "the pain from an old wound". It's delicate... but potent. It's a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone, like a lone train that takes you to a place where you ache to go again. It lets us travel the way a child travels, round and around, and back home a place where we know we are loved.

    Le night goes on in a joyful and desperate alcoholism: we hit bars and pubs all around the city, and just like the old times the Family follows the Old Man in everything - it's a tribe of young degenerates, but I was and always have been the tribe leader. Just to keep the old habits, I open a few sets and merge them into mine without any apparent difficulty, but my heart was still following E. More we drink, more I feel her drifting away from my grasp, and the memories of AJ - a Brazilian stunning beauty that I had this summer - she speaks to me in my mind with melancholic whispers, she knew me for a month and yet she showed me my future, became my past in what seemed like the same breath. I end up in E.'s bed...but alone, and I feel somewhat guilty.


    The next day the Family went to pick up another guest for the weekend, and old friend of E. I took the morning instead to walk around the city and clear my head: onetitis is wrong and useless, onetitis on an ex-girlfriend is insane. I was walking down the Golden Arch in the Old Town, while I see two familiars faces passing by under the light autumn rain: L. and J., two badass Croatians chicks I saw around the University a few days before, walking fast while trying to shelter from the rain under a yellow umbrella. I waited for them, opened this improvised 2-set with a smile on my face and a few fact about the city; they were hungry, I pretended to be so, and our newly formed trio went to a nearby cozy pancake place I knew. While waiting for our dishes, two more girls I saw casually entered the place, and I merged the two groups: in a matter of half an hour I went from a depressing walk under the rain to a lovely lunch with a 4set of all girls. Strange enough, I pushed away the thought of E. and enjoyed our time all together - routines and improvised material stacked one upon the other in such a nice and flawless way that even a couple of tourist sitting nearby started smiling at our stories and joined the conversation. I was careful enough not to be a try-hard, and I carefully let all of the girls interacting with each other while guiding the conversation with new and fresh topic, and cutting only the most useless threads: a 6set was dangling from my lips, and I felt somehow, for a brief moment, happy and satisfied.

    It was around half past four when I received a message from E.: the birthday boy already drank the present I brought him from Warsaw, namely a liter of vodka, and pissed himself, after fainting on the stairs, and the others, being already roaring drunk, were asking for my help. I would like to write you that I abandoned four single chicks in order to help my friend in need, but I would be a liar: I did it because that little Polish love asked for my help. It was stupid of me, I can see it now, but in that precise moment my heart and mind were invaded by E. once again, I said goodbye to the girls and took a taxi. In the 20 minutes that took me to reach the Family, the birthday boy managed to change his pants, fall from the stairs, crawl upstairs, sit, fell asleep on the chair, piss himself again, wake up, go to the bathroom, faint on the bathroom floor and piss himself for the third time: never thought that such a skinny guy could have such a big bladder. In half an hour we saved the day and put him back to sleep and I met the other friend: another Italian, clearly there to find a way to lay E., and obviously, I decided to befriend him immediately. I was smiling, laughing, sharing jokes and stories, but I couldn't help my mind to picture cruel images of trench warfare with him as a victim. I started drinking, a bit for habit and a bit for anger, and the evening blurred almost immediately: the rest of my memories are just flashes, chaotic pictures drowning in a sea of darkness.

    There's another guest, A. I think I saw her in one of the parties I hosted in my apartment last year: dirty-blonde hair are falling sharply on her skinny shoulders, a tight red sweater defines her waist as thin as bison grass and the shape of a tonic, chiseled belly. We are all hopelessly drunk, the demon of intemperance ever delights in sucking the blood of youth and joy, a temporary suicide: the happiness that vodka brought is merely a momentary cessation of a shared unhappiness. The other Italian is drinking alone in a corner, the group is dangling from my lips, time itself shatters. I'm there entertaining everybody, at the same time I'm satisfied with the exclusion of the rival and I'm kissing A. in front of everybody while E. is taking pictures of us. I curse myself, because I want my Polish devil back, but my lust is taking control of my body: lust, not love or joy, I do not feel happiness while I'm seducing A. I'm outside smoking with both girls and the birthday boy: E. helps J. climbing the stairs, I grab A. by the hand and take her in the backyard. I hold her dirty-blonde hair while I furiously climb inside her on the wet concrete. We're on the cold shore, the night has fallen and it looks like we're drowning in a sea of cold black ink while strangers around us run into the freezing Baltic Sea, screaming and holding empty bottles. We come back, singing. I'm in the apartment, everybody is already fainted in their beds, E. is sharing her bed with the other Italian, and I'm full of anger and bitterness. I turn cold, I tell A. that there're no places beds left for me where to sleep in, she says that her bed is comfortable and wide enough for the both of us, and she keeps repeating that all the way to her apartment. We pass the night without sleeping.

    At sunrise, I kiss her goodbye and venture back walking through the decadent suburbian buildings. The gloomy steel-grey sky drains the colors of everything under it while a cold thin rain dampens my hair. It's cold, again.

  7. #7
    Join Date
    May 2012

    Kudos for journalling and throwing yourself into this process. Love it!

    need to find a way also to practice daygame
    Not to sound like a dick here, but this is easy. Go out in the daytime!
    Vox - Love Systems Instructor


    FOLLOW ME: Twitter / Facebook

  8. Quote Originally Posted by Vox View Post
    Kudos for journalling and throwing yourself into this process. Love it!

    Not to sound like a dick here, but this is easy. Go out in the daytime!
    Not a dick at all, I'll do my best about it

    23-29 October 2017

    Dear members of this community, as it usually happens I'm traveling, and writing from a battered bus back from the Czech Republic. Since I'll sit here for the next nine hours, I might as well continue my diaries and write down something about last two weeks.

    The soon-to-be bride (October 24th)
    I made an agreement with M. previously: I could share with her my last bottle of Italian red wine, as long as she could find for me a bottle of Ukrainian vodka. "I postponed my meeting, so I'm free tonight", that was the message sent from the dark-haired tall Slavic beauty that lightened up my otherwise gloomy mood. She added that she found the vodka, and we agreed to meet in my room. My hopes were high while I was setting up the location: the idea was to follow the MM's principles and create a neutral and non-threatening location, then slowly transform it together in the altar were to honor Venus with our incenses. You can imagine my surprise when she knocked at my door with a bottle in one hand and a girl at her side.

    My wishful heart was hoping for the most delicious of nights, but my mind feared a last-minute shield to defend her engagement vows.

    I decided to take it as an opportunity to learn, no matter the outcome, so I started my game as an A3-C1 with a 2-set. After gathering basic info - "so, how do you know each other?" - we sat in circle sharing the bottle. The conversation went as smoothly as the alcohol we were drinking and was actually quite interesting, so I preferred a more natural approach with a coherent non-canned material, always respecting some core principles: multi-threading, negs, DHV spikes followed by a slow and plausible kino-escalation.

    The evening was quite nice and I ended up with a time bridge with both and an N-close with the new one, but apparently, I would have needed more time - or skill - to bang that night.

    Why did she bring her friend? To feel safer, or as a decoy to test my interest towards her? PUAs and more skilled players, how would you have turned that into a threesome?

    My hopes rose again one hour after our goodbye when M. asked if I was headed to a nearby pub, and in that case to wait for her. I felt a sudden rush of blood when I saw her descending the steep steps of the dormitory in a long red raincoat, black leather boots and her long charcoal black hair dancing like waves in the cold wind: with her cherry lipstick and pale skin she seemed unreal, more vampire than human. Good god, how I wanted her to lean on me, bite my neck and drain me.

    I offered her my arm and she grabbed it happily and we walked to the pub joyful as teenagers...but our happiness wasn't meant to last. Dear readers, there's no nobility in suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. While smiling and giggling at each other a figure approached us: it was a friend of hers, that surprised to see us commented "seeing you so close I thought your future husband came to pay you a visit!". She promptly denied, commented something in Polish, and we proceded towards the pub, but the spell was broken: she stopped smiling and giggling, she wasn't as close to me as before, and she behaved more or less like an icicle for the following hours. In the end, I found myself t be again the only foreigner, and everybody soon started to speak Polish. Cut out of the conversation I lacked my best weapon - my speech - I couldn't properly play my game anymore, and she disappeared later with a group of friends.

    Would you have acted differently?
    How could I have recovered after the damned words of her friend?

    RSD and bad luck (October 25-26th)
    The following days weren't so interesting: daygame practice, lots of work, two postponed day2s, a disappointing date with a stripper and a girl that I had to ditch, more out of pride than lust. I decided to focus on more promising and interesting ladies than spending time with someone I fund nice but ultimately boring.

    One fun fact: while gaming in pubs - I had to try some new approaches, it seems that different ones work better in different social and cultural situations - I noticed one of my colleagues staring at me. Later he approached me, and after a few word, we both discovered our shared passion for the fair ladies and pick-up techniques. He's a member of the RSD community, native speaker and skilled in the art of building comfort, and yet lacking the guts and techniques to open a set. I, on the other side, find myself lacking the comfort-building aspect, but I usually have little trouble in the opening.

    We agreed on a mutually beneficial agreement, and we'll see what our future sarging will bring.

  10. Before Prague
    (28-31 October 2017)

    After convincing myself that my weak point is comfort building and closing with something different than ONS, I decided to slow down on the pick-up, ditch Tinder for a couple of weeks and focus instead on fewer but better dates: the last days before my trip to Prague are about M. and G...

    M, the Spaniard

    That was one of the most absurd ways a girl ever answered to one of my openings. We were having an international dinner among friends, and I was one of the cooks; it was a very informal thing, but I noticed the beauty of her tonic and firm body even under a pair of baggy pants and a hoodie. She's a biologist, well educated, active, funny and, what's most important, beautiful: I'm sure your experienced minds can imagine what years of triathlon can do to a 21 years old girl's body. I thought that potatoes and pumpkin slices were good enough as a lock-in prop, so I handed them over to her, explaining how to help me to prepare gnocchi, and started our little chat...that took an unexpected turn when I asked for her name - I've never seen her around before - and she answered:

    "I don't know"

    You see, in an international and multicultural group of friends you kinda expect that everybody can speak a fluent English, but that was not her case. Luckily I had some basic notions of Spanish, and I kept the conversation flowing anyway, group-merging with nearby people and telling them the funny story that just happened. She must have enjoyed that somehow, because later that night, while we were sitting in a dim-lighted club in the city center and I was giving her a palm reading, she suddenly rushed for my lips, and we kept kissing passionately in front of our friends.

    Unfortunately, she haad to take a train to Prague the next day, so I couldn't have a taste of her inviting spanish fruits...but I'll write again about her when we met days later in Prague.

    G., the Turkish
    For Halloween, I decided to take peacocking to a level that this place hasn't seen before. You can imagine the surprise among the barely-painted faces of colleagues pre-drinking in the dormitory kitchen - some of them too shy even to wear a mask, let alone a costume - when I rushed in: silver-color velvet XVII century Venetian costume, a black tricorn hat with white feathers, golden rings and black nails. It was so obscene that it actually worked, and worked well: everybody was complimenting me for the awesomeness of that costume, the first sets opened so easily that after a while girls came presenting themselves, almost begging to talk with me and asking to have pictures at my side. Among them, G., a small but lovely Turkish girl: slim but proportioned, olive skin and long black hair, lips so beautiful that seemed sketched my a Renaissance painter...but the things that most fascinated me among all her qualities were his lively spirit, naive and new for me, her candor, her ingenuity, her natural and yet refined feelings, her vivacious and innocent chatting, in short that mixture of beauty, spirit and innocence, mixture that always had some sort of imperious influence on me.

    I almost felt bad for how easily I got her interest, such a nice girl in such a city, a lamb among wolves, and for a moment I thought about letting her be and give my attentions to a blond that was always pestering me desperate for my attention and evidently jealous of G. Then I realized that such Turkish sweet wouldn't have remained innocent in that place for long, and if someone must have her it might as well be me. While a bit later I was tasting her soft lips in a club, I found myself immensely attracted by her cuteness and lack of skill that I wondered how such beautiful and yet innocent 22 years old girls can still exist in a city like Warsaw.

    Unfortuately, I made a huge mistake: not conquer the trust of her roomate and best friend, who apparently already heard some stories about me. While G. was in the restroom she approached me, murmured something similar to "I know guys like you, and I'm sorry, but she's my friend and I'm going to cockblock you tonight", and unfortunately she kept her word. While I was sure of my conquest - we were waiting for a taxi to go back together to my place when the cockblocker faked some kind of illness and beg G. to accompany her back home.

    How do you suggest to deal with this kind of inconveniences?

    When I saw the two girls going away, I decided not to give up my hopes, and I spent the night moving from girl to girl, kissing and dancing in my silver frock coat, drinking and having fun with all those beautiful blonde strangers...until I found myself at home next morning, with a ring missing and a bad hangover.

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