This city, it fucking hates you. It’s a city built to cock block you, when it comes to game, it is an environment made to kill weak men. Seriously you want beautiful women with diverse jobs, diverse social back grounds and economic levels go to NY. You want coked out beautiful plastic chicks you see in porn go to the LA or Vegas. You like them Latin girls and great weather go to Miami. Fuck even go to Texas. But don’t come to DC. I’ve watched what it does to nice guys and good men. It’s a hard city that builds hard men. But as bad as it can be it’s worse in winter. I’ve said it before. It’s like training in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber on Kami’s Lookout in the Dragon Ball Z Manga. One bad night can feel like a bad year. What happens is you stop putting in the effort to dress up and go out, because most of the women have no sense of fashion so why should you. You get bitter and make excuses why you should stay in, there’s nothing good out there right now in the winter, you can save up money by not going out, you can just watch porn and jerk it, blah blah blah. Soon you come to hate going out, hate DC and then move somewhere else forever cursing the place. DC beat you bro, it’s beaten many men.
Trust me it’s easy to let the city get to you. It started to get to me and still does from time to time. I was slacking on my pimpin. I was going out with less enthusiasm, not suiting up like I should, not putting in the effort with my interactions with women. I’d go out on Friday night, get no results, and then stay in Saturday night not feeling like putting up with the bullshit of going out. This past weekend started out that way. Friday night I went out semi dressed up. But my friends and I started the night in Arlington, jumped to Georgetown then finally ended up on U Street late. I managed to spend a lot of money and all I had to show for it was one measly phone number of a girl who was out of town visiting her friends. It left a bad taste in my mouth, I knew I could do better and was pissed that after years of experience I was letting the city get the best of me.
Saturday I went back to the basics. I put on my hit man suit. Black dress shirt, black pocket square, shaved dome piece. I had a quick pep talk with myself, “I’m fucking Virgle Kent, I’ve worked way too hard and come too far to let this piece of shit city defeat me. I know what to say, I know what to do. Let’s finish this”. I was pumped, I felt good about myself. Stronger, I was not going to be denied, sex would happen tonight.
I left for U Street arriving in the area on time to meet my boys in the first spot but it took me 30 minutes to find parking. This was city already trying to mind fuck me, the thought of texting them a no go crossed my mind, almost drove back home call it a night. But I knew there was a vagina out there waiting for me to show up. I found parking, walk up to the spot and there’s a huge line to get in, the bouncer I usually know isn’t out front so I stand in it for another 20 minutes. Again this is the city trying to crush my spirits, put me in a bad mood. Finally once inside I get a beer and my boys who’ve been there for over an hour are ready to jump to the late night spot. On the way there my boy D (a young reader) says he’s got a girl coming through with a few of her friends. At the spot he got the txt they were waiting outside; of course there was a long line to get in. I came outside, gave the bouncer some love, and then told him to let the girls come through. Owner’s Son Game DHV right of the back.
There are three of them, once inside introductions are made. One of them within minutes looks me up and down and comes straight up to talk to me.
“Do you work here or something?”
“Nah, just been here a few times, what’s up with you”
She’s short wearing a bright teal tight party dress (probably a forever 21 number) with black tights and heels . She has huge tiggs for her size and when she turns to the side her leopard print bra peeks through. She’s got a hoop nose ring in one nostril. I can tell she’s not from DC right of the back. There’s something west coast in her voice, something California. She looks like the type that belongs in a Something Corporate song, like she once dyed part of her hair pink. The type of chick you meet at Coachella wearing jean cut off shorts with the pockets hanging out the bottom, cowboy boots, a wife beater and an Indian headband, you know the type. If I’m being honest she looks like Samaire Armstrong as Anna Stern in The OC. Jesus I had a crush on that girl back in the day. She’s a 23 year old collage senior studying something international. Her parents where hippies that never owned a TV. She’s got three tattoos one on her rib cage that’s the first line from the book Their Eyes Were Watching God, which later was turned into a movie starring Halle Berry. She babysits for a rich family and I wouldn’t be surprised if the Dad fucks her on the side for a little extra money. I’m intrigued.
As a test I offer some of my whiskey and coke and she drinks, to me it’s an act of intimacy. We talk some more and I even let her know I’m 32. She doesn’t mind, goes as far as to joke with me I’m not that old. It was like we were in our own world getting to know each other, like we were on an instant date trying to cram our life story in with every drink. I suggested that our big group goes downstairs, of course there’s a huge line that’s not moving. But again using owner’s son game the bouncer gives me some love and lets the whole group jump the line. Once downstairs I hold her hand as we walk through the crowd to get more drinks and some shots. Even though she doesn’t dance we stand off to the side with drinks and still only talking with each other and making fun of the crowd. With every sip I get comfortable touching her. I put my arm around her waist and gently rub up and down her side while carrying our conversation. She in turn puts her arm around mine and quickly comments when she feels my abs, I joke that I do a lot of yoga and pilates. By the end of the drink I bend down and start kissing her.
We go back upstairs, she goes outside to return her friend’s ID and credit card she’d been holding for her but comes back inside to stay with me. The lights come on and I ask her if we’re going back to her place. We can’t because she has two male roommates one is gay. So I told her it looks like we’re going back to my place. No hesitation no questions asked and no resistance. She puts on her jacket and we head out the door holding hands. In my car she puts on my black keys CD. I’m surprised at how mellow she is about all this. In my place we have a little white wine then start making out on the couch. I got up and lead her by the hand to my bedroom. I turned on the tv and put it on mute. We started kissing while standing up and I found the zipper on the side of her dress and pulled it down to the bottom. I watched her step out of it, and then pull down her tights. In her black thong and leopard print bra she lays back on my bed and waits for me to take my clothes off.
Again there was something cool and nonchalant about the whole thing. Nothing weird or hesitating like the last one, it’s as if she saw me and decided before talking with me that she would be ok with sleeping with me if I didn’t fuck it up or turn out to be gay. It didn’t feel like a drunken hookup or one night stand. We fucked all night, I swear to god she was trying to fuck me to death or make me fall in love with her. With young girls it’s usually both. I came twice and we fucked four more times; like she was trying to get me to fall asleep with my dick still in her. She reminds me of this Jewish girl with the same size tiggs but a crippled right hand that would let me fuck her this hard and this long. In the morning I’m completely empty and I know there isn’t a drop of semen left in my testacies but she jerks me off and we fuck two more times. She like when I give her short fast pumps I like going long and deep. I guess I’m old school and she’s a little rock and roll. I gave her a V neck shirt and we go watch TV and eat day old pizza. Spooning on the couch watching Sex Drive she makes sure I have one hand under her shirt cupping a tigg. After a short nap we’re back at it again making out and I take her back to my bedroom and fuck her till my dick gives up and goes limp. Lying on my sweaty chest she whispers that she thinks we should do this again.
I like this girl, I like how she’s uninhibited and carefree in the way she fucks me. The way she fucks with confidence, unguarded with little self doubt. I drive her back to her place and we make plans to hangout next Friday, low key, a movie and some drinks. She’s the type of girl you’ll miss fucking when you stop seeing her. I think about the fact how it all could not have happened. What if I was pissed off about my shitty Friday night and chose to stay in on Saturday night? What if I gave up on finding a parking spot and just drove back home? What if I didn’t feel like waiting in line and went and met up with another group of friends or again just went home? What if I was in a bad mood and wasn’t in the mood to spit game to anyone? If you let this city beat you mentally you’ll be more than surprised at the opportunities you miss out on.