Got a follow-up text from the hottest number of the bunch I met last week. She texted one of those blaise, generic, we should hang out sometime feeler texts. I responded with, "sure".
Dinner girl texted me shortly after dinner to say she had a great time. My mind roved over the hug at the end of the night when we had dinner, and the moment in time frozen in expectation of a kiss, but I hesitated just a split second too long. Hopefully I'm cool and interesting enough (hat tip: Roosh) to warrant a follow-up. I didn't see the text til the next morning b/c I was ******. Texted her back. Did not receive a reply until the following day (Friday morning). She said she had a friend in town. The problem with being a rake is just that....you think to yourself, "that's some shit I would say if I was indisposed of..." and it makes you wonder. Thinking: a dangerous pastime. Best not to ask too many questions. When you dig, you find dirt.
What's it going to be then, eh?
I headed into the night with a droog of mine. Started off local at a bar we both frequent, flirted with a girl I know from ******. We did the semi-flirt dance but I can do without the awkwardness that will follow my knockin' it out and having to see her @ the ******. Read that: she's not hot enough to warrant dealing with some marginal awkwardness.
Predictably, en route to meet dinner girl downtown, @ the 2nd bar of the night, a cute Latina sparked my interest and asked my name. My wingman was deep in flux with a nearby divorcee. I flexed my coversational muscles for practice with these plastic actresses ( hat tip: Swollen Members). Having waited long enough to make my appearance with dinner girl and her coterie, I left my wingman to lock things up, got the number of the Latina, then made my way over to do some dancin' with dinner girl. We kissed a solid 20 min's after I got there. We danced the perfunctory amount of time to assess physical compatibility in bed, she took my hand as we walked through the crowd. I did the prerequisite face time with her friends, polite, humorous, blah fuckin' blaise.
Headed to another joint with dinner girl as I fig'd my wingman was still deep in set and why not? The greatest discoveries come not from the "let's turn back" mentality. Walked the girls to their car, headed back, got some food with my buddy and the divorcee. Tiger Woods came up in conversation. I said that if Tiger had a sex addiction, pretty much every guy qualifies by that litmus test. As it was, I faded into the night like a shadow and slept deep, catatonic sleep and my recurring dream of sitting on a small boat underneath a red sky in a black ocean came to me.
Field Report 3 Coming soon. Scandalous hoes ahead!