It took me a minute to remember what I call her in the context of this blog: Smart Girl. She is smart, that is true. But in my mind I increasingly think of her by her Chinese name. And with everyone else, I call her “Married Girl.” That’s how my wings know her.
She has been sexy and delicious, but also difficult. And being her lover hasn’t been easy. I forget sometimes that she’s still a bit of a kid… at 23 years old, she is half as old as I am. This week when I met her again, as we rinsed off in the shower after sex, we talked about her birthday (which is coming up) and about her age.
Sparing with her in the space of sex and intimacy, I think I have read too much into her “fighting style.” Maybe over-emphasized her quickness and her skill. I have treated her like she was some kind of sexy adversary. And maybe neglected her in some ways, because of it.
Her nickname – “Smart Girl” – fits her well. She is quite smart. And she’s fast. She thinks fast and she moves fast. She is impatient and she interrupts often. I don’t think she is completely cold, but she is guarded. If that doesn’t sound particularly sexy, I’d agree. I have never had a relationship with a girl like her. And this is not how I usually talk about my lovers.
All of this is mixed in with her being married… and has made me a bit hesitant about her. I treat her differently than most of the girls I date.
I write about her now, because I have had some recent adventures with her. And she has helped me break out of a Summer Famine. And the experience has helped me to see her a little more clearly. To read her better.
And as all girls are clues to other girls, she is teaching me more about the dance, and the endless, cryptic lessons of female psychology.
One of the only attractive parts of that quality of “fastness” in Smart Girl is that her speed shows off her hair.
She has really nice, long, beautiful hair. And her quick, ferret-like gestures include the turn of her head. And in those moments, her long, black hair snaps like a whip, moving in the opposite direction from wherever her eyes are pointed.
Her hair is like the exhaust of her motion, trailing her, showing you where she has been.
Meanwhile in the world of Nash… it’s been a rough summer for daygame.
The daygame itself has been fine. Better than fine. It’s actually been good. I had some great sessions with my wings this summer. And I have talked to several hundred more girls. Beautiful girls. Charming girls. Inspiring girls. I took dozens of numbers.
And from all that ^… I had only a handful of dates.
The last date was a few weeks ago. She was a Korean tourist that blushed when I stopped her, met me for dinner, told me she had a boyfriend, but kissed me anyway. She was a charming girl and it was a good kiss. I would have liked to have eaten her, but I couldn’t get her to come home with me. I tried.
Since then… maybe 20 more leads? Maybe I am exaggerating. Maybe 15? No, at least 20 in the last month. I had days when I wouldn’t take a lead, but several days when I’d take four leads in an easy session after talking to 10-12 girls. Good sets… I swear. They felt good. Solid. Long. Less than two weeks ago, I took seven leads in two days. And from those leads I got one reply… and then that one went dry as well.
This has been a season of famine for me.
Daygamers (myself, certainly included) are a superstitious bunch. We read patterns where there are none. I do it. The men around me do it (eh-hem, YoungGuns). On top of my own lack of action, and similar trends with my closest wings, my conversations with SteadFast and The Costello Kid echoed the pattern I see of “effort without reward.”
“We have a right to our labor, but not to the fruits of our labor.”
This ^ has always been a heavy and very relevant quote for me as a daygamer (I have used it on this blog many times). That is a solid and realistic way to look at the process as you step into the game each time.
We have the hunt. And there is the fruit of that hunt. And between the two is a space filled with the whims of the Daygame Gods. We can hunt – that we can do. But as to the fruit of that effort… we are at the mercy of the Gods.
Is that superstition or meditation? For me… it’s the truth. My results are a function of my work ethic. But as one of the hardest working men in daygame… I know it’s more than work.
Summer has never been my season. And last year, while I still had the song of the glorious Miss Thick in my ears (and her skin next to mine), I mostly couldn’t close anything new in that summer either. I laid Miss Lips in July of 2017 (and again, later in the Fall, when she returned to my city). And I was seeing Miss Thick regularly (creating some of my favorite memories of my life). I was getting laid, and I hunted new girls, and took leads, and dated… but no new notches. Couldn’t make it happen, despite the work. Not in the last third of last year.
Last summer, like this one, I continued to hunt out of hope, from a core belief that daygame really works, and also because an afternoon talking to cute, young girls is joyous and stimulating for a man like me.
But I also “diversified” a little. By that, I don’t mean that I added night game or online to the mix. I took that time when I couldn’t make anything happen (when the Gods would only reject my sacrifices), and I put my efforts into other things. I went to festivals. I had some adventures. I saw my friends. I worked on my value outside of game.
In October of 2017, summer was retreating and I felt my superstition lift. I had a trip planned for NYC. It was centered around a workshop for men, but I also built a solid daygame trip on the backend of that workshop… six nights in the Big Apple.
Last October (much like this one), I had no reason to think I would be in any good in NYC. Then, like now, I had just come through a Summer Famine. But I hit the streets hard and had a very inspiring trip.
No new notches in New York, but I dated three girls, had dates four out of six nights, and got two of those girls back to my hotel room. The first girl in my room was a literally a Preacher’s Daughter (a classic example of the strange and wonderful adventures a man on a mission can find for himself). Then, Fashion Girl (the girl I dated twice), was a near-miss of nakedness in my bed and a whole lot of “almost” (she wanted to, but she wouldn’t let it happen).
That trip was also a great time for wings… I met LongBurnTheFire and had several excellent sessions with my good friend Runner.
I think of all this as I will be in Shanghai very soon.
There are similarities to the timing and circumstances of last year’s NYC trip. But this time, I have three+ weeks to get some work done. And it’s China, for Christ’s sake. And Shanghai… the biggest city in the world. Different, yes, but a similar set up in terms of the turn of the seasons, and the flow of my game coming out of summer.
I love the Fall. And superstition has it’s upside.
This summer should have been frustrating, but it really hasn’t been. I am surprised to say that, and to have it ring true. It is true.
In terms of daygame, this summer has been like a staring contest with the Gods. I would show up on the sidewalk so often. Sometimes, every day for a few weeks. And the Gods and I would face-off… and nobody would blink. Some kind of a stalemate in the battle for control for the souls of those girls. Some great chats, with very cute girls. So many leads. And very little action.
A daygame standoff. The Gods have willed it so.
And during all that time on the streets, I would see Smart Girl (my married girl) quite often.
Smart Girl is a girl that I find very attractive. Deeply so. Part of that is the unspoiled aspect of her age, the delicious elasticity of her youth. That’s part of it. I really enjoy her body, the creaminess of her skin, that viscus hair.
The first time I stopped her, I ran some pretty retarded, juvenile-level game. It was my game that made me walk away (a series of flat-footed questions out of my mouth was the excuse I used to early-eject from that set). But I also used some less-than-perfect qualities about her to help me justify my bad game that game that day. Maybe I didn’t really want her after all?
A week later when we ran into each other a second time, I glanced at her (not recognizing who she was at first) and she shot me that big, intelligent smile… and that IOI sucked me in for another round of her. I reopened the girl. And I realized who she was pretty quickly (remembering the dress she wore the day we first met). It was only during this second time I stopped her that I realized she was married. We talked about her “domestic situation.” And I invited her on an idate anyway. She said yes. On that date she was smart, spicy, fun… and of course, fast.
Those early “meetings” became the roots of an affair between she and I.
As a second date (a week later), we had a drink together in a hotel bar. On the third date, I had her come to my house, and after she rejected me (tested me?), I kissed her, and it was wet, and hot, and so good. The next time I kissed her, it was in a hotel room. And I got her naked. She gave me a complicated “no,” but I fucked her anyway and we both loved it. And she saw me many times after that.
The sex… has always been very good. She may be fast in most areas of her life, but when she is under my weight on a bed and under my control… there she is slow. And it’s a lovely side of her.
In May or June (something like that), she took a trip with her husband. We had been seeing each other about once per week, but we didn’t talk for about 10 days during that time.
I don’t message her much. In part to protect her, to keep the evidence of our affair off her phone and out of the air when she is with him. But I don’t message her much, also, because she is not romantic. Not that I can tell. Not that she shows me. I think “fast” and “romantic” don’t really go well together.
Romance is slow.
As she returned from her trip, I was curious to see if she would reach out. In the beginning of our affair, she would ping me and ask if I wanted to get together. I don’t need a girl to lead, but as this was complicated, it was nice to see her interest each time before I would jump in and take control of our trysts. As she returned from her trip, I leaned back… testing to see if she would come forward. She did not.
After a week I pinged her, and she responded quickly. We set up a date. More illicit sex in a hotel room after work. Again, fantastic sex.
And she made a comment in that next session together about how I didn’t message for a week. The break in our communication was on her mind as well. The look in her eyes when she made that comment… what did it mean? A mix of curiosity and caution. This whip-smart girl, the cold, fast, yet sexy young thing… was there vulnerability in that look after all?
It occurs to me that vulnerability and romance go together. And while I have enjoyed our affair very much, the space between she and I has had little of either. Or that is how I have read her.
And maybe I have read her wrong? Maybe I have approached her in a style that held that back for me, if not also for her?
In late July (something like that), I took a trip to Southern California. To see my Dad. And to surf. But also to see Miss Slow. I booked a hotel for two nights and Miss Slow stayed with me. On the first night of that trip we had a nice dinner, and I took her back to the hotel, undressed her and put my cock inside her. And that time with Miss Slow was… not that great, to be honest.
And as I returned from that trip… once again I considered the status of Smart Girl. When she had returned from her trip, she didn’t reach out… even if she was receptive when I did. So back in July, as I returned from my trip… I didn’t message her either.
My wing Sundance has given me a cautionary eye about Smart Girl all along. As we were out one day, I remember saying I thought letting her and I go silent could be a good way to let the affair fizzle out. She didn’t call. I didn’t call. No hard feelings. No confrontation between her husband and I. No drama. Just… distance and a termination.
Good enough. Or so I thought at the time.
But… I kept seeing her on the street. Over and over. She doesn’t usually see me in those moments (I don’t think), but I’ll notice her on the sidewalks of our city as I’m out hunting and she is on her way home from work.
I have seen her maybe six or seven times during my Summer Famine. Her quick little movements. That snap of her hair. And often… I wouldn’t recognize her at first (in part because my eyes aren’t that great). But each time… I was attracted to what I saw… not realizing she was a girl I’d already fucked over and over this year.
There is something so honest about this ^. She is not my favorite lover of all time, and yet my body leaps for her each time I see her. Before my eyes can focus in on what is familiar about her, my body is already moving towards the potential of her shape.
Once this summer, I was coming up the street toward where she works. From about 300 yards out I could see the sway of her body, her walk, and she fit the silhouette of a girl I would like. As I was daygaming that day, I assumed her to be a possible “target” and I prepared myself to engage.
As I closed the space between us on the sidewalk, of course it was her. Again. And I smiled. I like her. Over and over, I like this girl.
As we got close, I moved back and forth on the sidewalk (doing what I call the Hockey Stop, like a goalie after a puck) and I blocked her path. And she stopped. She gave me a quick little hello. I hugged her. She said (also very quickly) that she had to go (maybe it was a mistake to hug her?). It didn’t feel like rejection, but it wasn’t the slightest bit warm either. I counter-punched to her lack of charm and said “get out of here.” It was playful, but a little tough. I threw back my arms in cocky indifference and said, “I didn’t want to talk to you anyway.” And we both smiled.
It was a playful exchange, but our smiles were careful.
We were both very “professional” that day. There
should could have been vulnerability in that moment (if not connection), and I’m sure there was (for both of us), but we didn’t show it. In my mind, right now as I write this, I can see a little bit of “what does this mean?” in her eyes. But like everything with her… a quick turn of her hips, a heel driven into the sidewalk, a flick of that glossy black mane of hair… and she was gone.
Fast as always.
It happened again about a month ago. I was walking through the mall.
I saw her shape and I was drawn to her, only realizing who she was after the honesty of my attraction was already engaged. And I stepped up to her, bringing her attention out of her phone. And she gave me a hello that was a mix of her usually speed combined with surprise. And then she said she was waiting for her husband. There was a bit of alarm in her eyes.
I smiled. I cooled off my comportment. And I walked off.
I have been horny this summer, certainly. And I have been in a sexless famine, as I have already confessed. But I haven’t tried to reach out to this girl for sex.
I am not sure why.
In part because she is married (it’s exciting to be fucking a married girl, but most of that thrill has dissipated from this affair). And in part because she is fast, and I like slowness in a woman. Maybe, most of all… because she is cold.
Or maybe I can’t read her?
Last week, I got a notification from WeChat. This happens to me often, as I have many Chinese girls in my life.
I wondered if it was Miss Bangs (whom I will see when I am in Shanghai). Or maybe… maybe… Miss Thick (whom I would love to see again). Or the Assistant (that lovely girl messages me all the time). Or perhaps one of the 20+ girls I have taken a WeChat close from in the last couple of months?
It was none of those girls. It was Smart Girl.
And what she sent me was mostly meaningless at the level of the message itself. But the medium is the message… why was she reaching out?
Her little ping was cute. She may not be slow, or feminine in a soft way, but she can be cute with me. This message was so purposeless, I took it as her using it as a chance to flirt with me.
And I flirted back. And I thought about why she would reach out. And I soften up a bit. It occurred to me to ask her to meet up. And I did.
But first, I talked to her about business.
While I have done a lot of daygame this summer, I have also been making progress in my life as a man. Aside from daygame, I have been killing it, actually. Finance, workout, side hustle, adventures… all that. My life is clean right now. It has been a type of consolation prize versus the lack of new girls in my life. I think this is why I haven’t been frustrated. I’ve had a type of progress and balance in my life that made me feel good about myself.
I am into the role of value in a player’s game, but this isn’t the way I usually show up for my lovers. My value is there, always, but in the background. I concentrate on making a bubble of romance and sex for the girl and I… and that bubble, the intensity of the vibe in that space, that is the thing. That is what I want for me. That is what I want to give my lovers.
But this girl is a little different. She likes business. She is a little cold. If she has a romantic side, I haven’t seen much of it… other than the cool romance of meeting me in hotel rooms for what is each time surprisingly tender. The sex is so good. And so is the kissing (which is usually qualitatively different than sex for me). And she’ll often hold me while I fuck her (which surprises me each time).
But those times are fleeting… and we’re back on our feet. Dressed. A cold goodbye on the sidewalk as we leave the hotel and go our separate ways. Off to the private and distant parts of our lives… lives we mostly do not share.
Yohami taught me the value of the ramp. And RSD Tyler helped me to better understand what he meant… it means “take her at the flood.”
It means more than that. It means: Set up the flood, then take her.
Do your thing (“swing your dick”), see what she likes (“give her more of what she likes, and less of what she doesn’t like”), and if you want to make a “move” (which is anything you do as a player that requires more commitment from the girl), do it when she is already at a high note.
If she is on a “high note,” it means you have her on a ramp toward what you want. Now, “take her at the flood.”
In this case, I wanted to set something up… but I didn’t want to reach for sex out of nowhere (I aspire to be smoother than that). And in her case… I know she values business and that kind of success. So I told her about my intern and my side hustle. And she loved all that. And then I told her I was going to China (more value in her eyes). And then… I invited her for “a meeting” (that’s how we say it over WeChat… cold, business-like there as well).
And she agreed. And we met up, again, this time in a new hotel we’d never used, and I fucked her. She was on her period (she didn’t know she would be when she agreed). But I fucked her anyway and… the sex was just okay.
Period sex… not my favorite thing.
The most interesting part of that meetup, however, was this:
As we were alone in the hotel room, mostly very comfortable with each other (as always), she said, “We haven’t done this in a while.”
She is right, but it was such a careful statement. She is sly. But yes, there was a bit of vulnerability in her eyes as she introduced the subject.
She said, “why haven’t we gotten together?”
This ^ fascinates me. The question, some, sure, a little. But the look in her eyes. The uncertainty she exposed with that question. The way it made me feel.
Of course I didn’t try to explain it, or justify it, or apologize, or turn it around on her in a defensive way… all of that would have been Bottom Guy. She wasn’t trying to test me, but the moment was a test all the same.
I responded by saying, “Well… it must be something between you and I.” And I paused and smiled and looked at her as she leaned back on the bed. “There are only two of us in this relationship, and neither of us reached out.” And I smiled again and gave her a long look. Another pause. And she smiled back, solid, but a little uncertain.
And we moved on. I took her clothes off. I tasted her skin. And I kissed her.
The kissing was really great. Fucking great.
I like sex. And I want to fuck lovely girls. But this famine has shown me (again) that what I really miss is the intimacy. That most definitely includes fucking and sucking. But it’s the whole thing. And certainly the kissing.
She is a fantastic kisser.
So, I was to leave for China this week (in fact, I am on the plane now). And I had a very busy week. But I wanted to see her again before I left.
I messaged her again. And we met up once more. And her period was freshly gone. We were excited to see each other. And I could do all the things I wanted to do to her… and I did. I ate her pussy. And her ass. She sucked my cock. I fuck her, slowly, for a while, looking her in her eyes.
This ^ is the time when I get intimacy from her… this is where she slows down for me… when my cock is insider her. I fucked her slowly to enjoy all that. And then… I came in her mouth.
And it was a great time. It was nourishing. Really, deeply nourishing. I haven’t felt needy lately, but I needed something as rich as we had that day this week. It was sexy, and raw, and nasty, and delicious… and it was also deep, the way I want the time with my lovers to be.
I was leading. She was happy. We were both happy.
And the big deal here, above all the other details in this post… was watching how she wants to be led. About separating the parts of her that are, in fact, cold and careful… from the parts that are interested, and sensitive, and vulnerable (even in a very carefully hidden way).
Two weeks ago, when she sent me that ping to flirt with me via WeChat… she was being feminine. She was asking to be led, to be taken, to be fucked… all without verbalizing what she wants from me. Past all her speed and briskness, there is this side to her as well.
And in the hotel room two weeks ago, when she asked why we hadn’t gotten together… that was real vulnerability too. And it was a request for leadership. She was saying, “why haven’t you led me lately?” She is a capable girl. She doesn’t need to fuck me. But if we’re going to do any of this… she wants me to lead.
And I think of that time on the sidewalk… when (after our quick hug), she said she had to go. That wasn’t actually rejection or disinterest.
She is interested. Almost eager, but in such a careful way. And she wants me to lead… even when the signals aren’t obvious, or maybe even (falsely) suggest that she is “too cool” to be interested.
I like her. In all the ways I have said in this post.
And also, as a student of game, as a man that is fascinated by female psychology, she is an incredible case study. She is complicated. She is delicious. And I am learning to read her. And through her, learning to read a part of so many other girls.
These adventures are all very interesting to a man like me.
It felt great to have some real, solid kissing this last month with her. More than coming inside her… or in her mouth… it’s the kissing that was the real score for me. And the slow-nourishment of our episode in the hotel this week.
And summer is over. She is not a new girl, but she is a daygame girl. And she is not a new notch, but the sex was fantastic and the famine has broken. And it was good. Very good.
And it feels good to write again.
And in a few hours, I will arrive in Shanghai. And begin another whirlwind jaunt, hopefully full of sidewalks, skin, and seduction.
Or perhaps, another staring contest with the Gods. If that is what I find on this, my first trip to China, so be it. I’ll do my part. I’ll hunt. I’ll leave the possibility of fruit to the will of the Gods.
I’ll hit the street. I’ll talk to girls. It all starts… all of it… all of these multi-threaded adventures… the vignettes into the psychology of women… the ups and downs… the orgasms… it all starts when a man approaches a girl on the street.