View Full Version : She Has Her Fun, I'll Have Mine

Takashi Miike
11-25-2011, 04:32 AM
Alright, where's the sex? There's FRs ("Fuck Reports"), LRs ("Lay Reports"), whatever you want to call them. I'm not alone in that when I read posts on these forums, I'm looking for the goods. I'm looking for an A that leads to a B that leads to an S, E, and X. Without the last 3 steps it seems kind of pointless to read such long posts. This is wrong, however. FRs ("Field Reports") are just as good as LRs. They're a guidepost. They're learning grooves. All PUAs, regardless of level, can take something away from them. As Mystery says, "The reason PUA is so addicting is because every set is different."

SUNDAY, 11/20/2011

Yes, a Sunday. Who goes out on a Sunday? Who goes out any night other than Friday or Saturday? Why on Earth would someone throw a party on a Sunday? Don't you people have jobs?

It was the Taiwanese/Japanese "T&J" party. I had been to one of these before by invitation from a Taiwanese acquaintance. I think he was trying to pick up on my girlfriend at some point. Then I was introduced to his friend, also Taiwanese, who looks like a blonde-haired Anime character. He also tried to pick up my girlfriend at some point. Good guys, these two dudes.

My girlfriend is something to be desired. She and I have been dating for just over a year (funny, I met and slept with her before I even knew this community existed!). It's not like she's hot, though. She's cute as a cabbage-patch kid. She's the kind of girl that gets hit on all the time without having to dress sexy. She's amazingly "cute" but not the kind you'd lose your balance over when she passed you on the street. My aim is to get one, and many, of those girls.

I felt obligated to go to the T&J party with her. The promoters (the guys who regularly hit on her) were her friends, anyway. It's only natural that she go to the party as well.

I don't like going to parties with my girlfriend. I know I make her jealous all the time with all the sets I open. I number close right in front of her. I'm mean. She goes off and lets other guys get all up in her biz, but I'm unwary. She's having her fun, and I'm having mine. End of discussion.

My second night of sarging this week. My girlfriend had friends in town from France, so it was the 4 of us. One of the guys is good-looking, has kind of a Brazilian vibe to his fashion. The other guy looked half Middle-Eastern. He was a hardcore gamer, and he did it, played video games, for a living. It didn't look like tonight was going to end in his favor.

When I go to parties, I just open everyone. Here in Japan, they're jam-packed, and you're always rubbing up against someone or other, so, hey, those with approach anxiety, try this shit on for size.

Everyone had a name-tag, since this was an international party, and the names are so different from each other that when you're drunk, and can still read, you never have the problem of remembering the person's name. The girls at the front desk told me to write down a nickname. So, I picked the only nickname I ever use in the land of the rising sun. The perfect nickname, the one that says it all, the nickname that contains that one aspect of men girls of modern day drool over, and that nickname is none other than "Mystery".

One girl in particular I opened was sitting in a couched area on the second floor. She was practically the only girl in there, surrounded by guys, yet she was on the very end of the sofa, an emotional, as well as physical, gap between her and the guy sitting next to her.

Figuring this would work best with a pivot (a female wingman), I had my girlfriend go over with me and sit down. I sat next to the target, and my girlfriend sat on the other side of me. The target and I talked a little bit about how she'd been to Seattle before---I told her I was American, and this was our common ground. I did a lot of playful take-aways during this set. I had her guess what part of America I was from, she'd get it wrong, and I'd be like, "Oh my God, I cannot believe you just guessed that. THERE of all places!" and then I'd take the couch pillow and set it between us.

"I can't talk to you ever again." This of course was said with a big smile.

She asked me what my name was. I pointed at the name-tag. "Mystery".

My girlfriend eventually got up to go to the bathroom, and I number-closed the target. I don't have much trouble with number closes---I can get it about 90% of the time here. The problem is getting them to e-mail me back + getting them to go out with me + getting them back to my apartment. It happens SOMETIMES, but I would like it to happen EVERY time;) The pick-up gurus all say that when you number close a girl, you should know whether or not she's going to contact you. There has to be some kind of benefit for her to meet up with you again. So, to do this, to overcome this obstacle, to make it seem like she would benefit from hanging out with me again, I tried this little tactic as an experiment for the night:

Number close. Then... "So what do you like to do for fun?"

"I like A, B, and C."

"Okay, well let's do C."

That tactic.

I don't remember what she said she liked to do. In the proceeding week I would e-mail her, saying I had had a good time with her that night. I would invite her to a party the following weekend. She would accept and invite 5 friends. I would accomplish all of this by using as little text as possible during the mail exchange. This was a method recommended by my only sarging friend in Japan, a "natural".

After the number-close, I did something else, whatever, time passed, and I was standing next to a not-particularly-attractive girl. We were both smoking. All you smokers out there, remember when you were just starting out (if you're like me, think back to high school) and you would accidentally blow smoke in people's faces when you were talking to them, because you didn't know any better. And then the person would say, "You know, in France, that's how you tell someone you want to fuck them, by blowing smoke in their face." Remember that? Well, I took out the "fucking" part and just blew smoke in the girl's face.

"Hey!" she screamed. She blew smoke in my face. We started blowing smoke in each other's faces. I did not want to fuck this girl.

Later I saw her again in another seating area. She was with a friend, and her friend was much more attractive. Much more fuckable. I had already opened the fuckable friend earlier. I was sitting down, and she walked by with a plate of food, and I screamed something like, "Hey, where's my dinner?! You're so mean!" Something like that.

Anyway, back to the scene at hand with Where's My Dinner Girl (WMDG) and Unfuckable (U) in the seating area. I walked over, posted up right in front of U, and blew smoke in her face again. She laughed. I turned to WMDG.

"Oh my God, you smoke too!? That's disgusting," I said, smiling of course, take-away, and tongue-in-cheek took a drag of my cigarette. I started blowing smoke in her face now. She blew smoke back. I was blowing smoke in both WMDG and U's faces now.

"I hate you," I said to WMDG, the target, and blew smoke in her face.

"I hate YOU," she said, and blew smoke in my face.

I pointed at U, "You know, she's okay, I like her, but I hate you," pointing at WMDG.

WHAM! Great playful, simple neg for Japan. I was in! This set was fun.

She asked what my name was. I pointed to my name-tag. "Mystery".

I number-closed WMDG. And then the tactic of the night:

"What do you like to do for fun?"

"Um, computer! Internet."

"Great, we can go to an internet cafe then."

Internet cafes came in single and couple rooms, the latter with a couch or just a padded floor. They're much cheaper than love hotels at around $5 an hour.

The next morning I would e-mail her."

"Good morning, my enemy:)," I would say.

We would go on exchanging e-mails for the next few days. That is, until I would ask her to go with me to a party the next weekend. She wouldn't respond to that one.

Back at the party:

"I should be bouncing these girls," I thought. But it was impossible. My girlfriend was there afterall. Plus it was a Sunday night. Who the hell throws a party on a Sunday night? Don't you people have jobs?

After the WMDG set---in which I should have isolated the target and built comfort and blah, blah, blah, all which is almost impossible in these noisy fucking bars that are ear-to-ear with people---I went to find my girlfriend.

"What we gotta do is find a guy and a girl. A couple. You talk to the guy, and I talk to the girl."

I come up with all sorts of schemes when I'm in this type of atmosphere. It really is fun hanging out with my girlfriend sometimes. She was not into the finding a couple idea, but I found one anyway and drug her over to them. I started talking to the girl, not drop-dead gorgeous or anything, but doable, nice red dress. The second I approached the guy she was with walked off, as well as my girlfriend, I assume (I wasn't paying much attention).

We shot the shit a little bit, and, remembering I should probably do some kino, did some kino. Then I second-dated her to the first floor where the drinks were, guiding her there by the small of her back---more kino.

We fluffed some more at the bar, I number closed.

"What do you like to do for fun?"


I was seeing a bright future full of internet cafe dates. I would e-mail her the following morning and wouldn't get a response. I would wait 2 days and e-mail again, saying she was probably too shy to write me back because of her English. And I would ask her to go to that ever-so-mentioned party with me the weekend after. She would respond 2 days later to that one, saying she was slow at typing English and that she was going to a festival that Saturday and couldn't come.

So the party was finishing up, and I was making the mad dash for quick number closes so I could play the odds for the following week.

I found one girl floating by in the stream of bodies that I had BSed with for a few minutes next to the bathroom when I first got to the party. I was pressed for time, so I was skipping steps in the Mystery Method. I skipped over "Attraction 2 and 3" and just went right to a comfort-building routine.

"Hey," blah blah blah, "we should get married. We'll have horses and white carriages, but you're mean, so we're getting a divorce."

She was gone before I could get out the but-I'm-keeping-the-kids line. Oh well.

However, the hottest girl at the party, Ms. 10, did suddenly appear next to me at the bar to get a drink. She asked me what I did, and I said I was homeless or something. Maybe not the best one to pull on a 10.

As about half of the guests were already shoving out the door, I found Ms. 10 over in the corner with another girl and a guy, 3-set. I grabbed that Brazilian-vibe French guy and had him go wing with me. The guy in the 3-set left almost as soon as I came up to the table (I was so on at blowing the other guys out that night that my mere presence scared them away). French guy, I guess, chickened out or something, and it was great, too, because Ms. 10's friend didn't even step in for the cock-block! Ms. 10 and I fluffed some. I found out she was a college student. She asked my name and I showed her the name-tag. "Mystery". She leaned over to her friend at one point and said the way I talked made me seem like an English teacher.

"How dare you say I sound like an English teacher. I'm not an English teacher, I hate English teachers."

Somehow I had failed the shit test. I would number close her only to get no response in the proceeding week. Ninety-nine percent of us are English teachers here, or travelers. If any of you have seen Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Tokyo is kind of like LA.

"Hi! So what do you do?"

Guy says something that does not sound spectacular. Girl walks away.

I'm starting to feel that being an English teacher in Japan is a major DLV. I thought about just coming up with a fake occupation and just rolling with it briefly and then avoiding the subject for the remainder of the relationship. At least with hot girls who probably get, as Chris Rock would say, "You want some dick?"ed a hundred times a day by English teachers at international parties.

So that was my night. I had effectively made my girlfriend jealous, and thus more attracted to me. She may have gone off with that French guy at some point for all I know. It doesn't matter though. She has her fun, and I have mine. We'll see what happens at the aforementioned party next weekend;)