Following the weekend, I do have a threesome story to write about, but it won’t be today. The outcome of the menage-a-trois was another let down (as it normally is). I will write about it after.
Another story has been on my mind this week and it always amuses me to no end to tell it. This was before I learned Pick Up, but the events of this night were crucial to my finding out about Game.
When I first came to London I moved in with a Scot/Trinny girl and we lived together for six months – she was really hot. After we broke up, I moved to a shared-house in Roehampton, south London. Besides me, there were six others:
- Four guys:
Cabron, a talkative Spaniard with a heavy accent;
Muchacho, a quiet Spaniard who would became talkative whenever he was drunk;
Grandpa, a short Brazilian with an amazing personality;
Artist, he is Grandpa’s brother, kind of short too. He is the person who first told me about the PUA world years after this event.
- Two girls:
Brit, who had massive tits (we all remember her for that – or those). She also had a stuck up boyfriend.
Monka, a Polish girl who had just moved in.
- A Plastic Doll – Lola: She was a very cheap sex doll who lived in our lounge and everyone just loved taking pics with her. No one knows who’d brought her to the house.
Everyone would always kind of flirting with each other. Like when Artist made a move on Monka one afternoon, only to be turned down. Or when one day I met Cabron in the kitchen, leaving for work, and he updated me about his shenanigans saying ‘last night I made fuck with Brit.‘ He told me her tits were amazing. I believe him.
Brit would often bring some of her girlfriends over, probably to meet us boys, but they were hardly good looking.
This one Saturday night we all decided to stay in, there was always plenty of drinks and everyone seemed to have gotten drunk. One of Brit’s girlfriend was there and I started flirting with her while Artist was trying on with Monka, again, this time in front of everyone. (Normally when flirting occurred, we’d try to be discreet). The others were all around us all, probably hoping we’d make a fool of ourselves.
Much to my disappointment (at that time), Brit’s friend had one drink too many and had to be carried to bed – not by me. So I turn round and there is Monka, locking eye contact with me, Artist’s sitting right next to her. I can’t exactly recall how, but within seconds we were dancing in the middle of the kitchen, while everyone watched us. There was instant kino and our lips were inches apart.
At this point, Artist throws in the towel and he chooses to sit on the table, hugging Lola and starring at us. I can’t explain his look, but it wasn’t hate. Maybe it was loneliness at that time. I guess it was after this night that he went on to seek help and found out about the PUA community. Not long after he started showing up with some very tall Russians.
Mind you, this is around 3 AM and I can’t be bothered to gaming her, so I make a very careless invitation to my bedroom. She hesitates. I turn my back to her and walk off. When I’m the top of the stairs I turn my head and find her at the foot of the staircase, looking up like a lost puppy. I wave her to follow, and she promptly complies.
I can’t remember much of the sex, but it was probably far from great.
I don’t know the etiquette for housemate sex, but it probably says that you leave their bedroom and go sleep in yours. I guess she didn’t read the rules, so she spent the night on my bed, looming around, waiting for an opportunity to cuddle.
After I couldn’t stand it anymore, I got up, early in the morning, and walked downstairs only to meet drunk Muchacho lying on the sofa. As stated before, Muchacho liked to chat when he was drunk so he got up and we started talking.
This was fine, since I could do with some company, but for one important detail: some Spanish guys like to talk very close to your face, sometimes even wrapping their arms round your head. It’s their way to show they like or trust you. And here I have drunk Muchacho trying to speak on my face with a morning, stinking breath while psycho Monka sleeps in my room. I decide Muchacho’s company and his stinking breath is more pleasant. He opens a beer and starts to drink again.
I admire the human mind and how creative we can be at times. Since I will have to endure not being able to go to sleep for a while, I get up and start walking casually round the kitchen table while Muchacho is talking, as to avoid his toxic breath. It’s funny because he is following me. Whenever he needs to stress a point, he then changes direction so he can meet me halfway the other side. Since I know all he wants is to clinch me, I too change directions and pretend I want to walk the other way just now. Eventually he catches on to that and asks whether I’m avoiding him. ‘It’s just that I’m full of energy and want to walk round the table a bit,’ says I.
Liar. I just want my bed without Monka on it. It wasn’t until noon that she left to go to her bedroom.
This girl was chasing me. Around 5PM on the same day she knocked to invite me to a BBQ’s at her friend’s. When I didn’t answer the door, she tried to open it. Good thing it was locked and I just pretended I was sleeping. On that same night I was sitting in the lounge, talking to sober Muchacho, when she sat cuddling next to me, as girls’d do to someone they’ve been dating. I managed to find some excuses to get her off of me. After weeks she eventually realized I was avoiding her like the plague, then she started hating me.
One night I brought over another Polish girl I picked up at a party, Monka then invites a guy friend of hers over, just to get even with me. Then the four of us sat in the lounge, socializing like four best friends. The boy slept in her bedroom, but Artist told me the morning after that he overheard the guy trying to escalate her while she’d say ‘that is your side of bed and this is mine. You stay your side I stay mine.‘
After a few months Muchacho went back to Spain and was replaced by Sergio, who rented the bedroom next to mine. Sergio had a hoarse voice. Monica and Sergio started dating and through the thing walls I could hear them fucking. There were some hard slaps, but coming from her. I could hear him pleading her to stop slapping him, with his heavy Spanish accent. And then I heard another slap.
Most of us from that house still keep in touch to this day, except for Monka, Sergio and Muchacho.
One morning Lola woke up dead and is no longer with us.