“You know Jack, you don’t need to come to these places chasing abhorrent geordies that have so much make-up on they look like clowns. I’m so glad I’m able to meet girls during the daytime instead of coming to these dreadful bars. Nightclubs depress me.”
Bodi had a good point. It was two weeks after the slap. We were in a different club in Newcastle where the lights were bright, you could see some of the girls had either put their make-up on without a mirror or genuinely believed they looked good wearing two millimetres of foundation. Some had contouring lines that made them look like baby deer. I expressed this verbally, “Yeah, I know what you mean, look at her, she looks like Bambi.”
“You wouldn’t see that in Eastern Europe, I mean, look at that girl, if she was in Belgrade people would be pointing in the streets disgusted by her whale like body.” He pointed to an overweight hipster looking girl in a hat. She was wearing vertical stripes in an attempt to hide her square looking shape but it wasn’t working.
“Oh I can’t take much more of being here amongst this swill,” he sighed.
“It’s not that bad Bodi, you just have to find the diamonds in the rough,” I contested.
“No, no, you haven’t tried going out and meeting girls during the day in the cities I have, there is no comparison, if you went there you would see for yourself. Their bodies are all slender and they don’t have this feminist masculine vibe what the girls here have.”
Bodi planted a seed in my brain that day. Up until that point I’d only ever met girls from bars and clubs. I’d carved out my own method of doing so that was finally getting the results I’d dreamed of. Most of the girls I was meeting were very attractive looks-wise. I was knee deep in pussy. Taking home a different girl almost every weekend for the last three years. I felt somewhat proud of what I’d achieved, not many other guys could replicate it. Even though I was attempting to fill a fractured barrel, I still felt it give me purpose.
I pulled out my phone and showed him a plethora of girls I was meeting, pointing to the hottest ones, “That’s Maria she’s got fake tits that are amazing, you can’t tell me Eastern European girls are much better than her?”
Maria had an outrageously sexy body, natural muscle definition with curves in all the right places and a skin tone that seemed to have an endless sunkissed glow. Even the surgeon who gave her the implants had told her most women would kill for a body like hers.
“If you’re happy you’re happy, you get good results so you don’t need to consider it, but, then again you’ve never tried meeting the quiet girl next door type’s in the cafe’s of Zagreb or Prague. The girls there are so much more dainty, like pretty little Audrey Hepburn clones.” His eyes became dreamy and averted upwards and to the right. As he said the last part of his sentence, his owl like face softened, then hardened again as he looked back at me, “Enjoy the swill, if you like it.”
I did like it, but he had me intrigued. Could it really be so great in Eastern Europe? As for meeting girls during the day in cafe’s and libraries it actually scared me. I’d tried once, a couple of years previous, to make conversation with girls in the Newcastle shopping malls and failed abysmally. I’d taken a week off work and each day would take the train into the city whilst listening to self improvement videos. I’d scrutinise their words, their vibe, and their tone of voice. I’d memorize their mannerisms and charisma to hopefully emulate it in real life during interactions with women.
‘I’ll get good at talking to girls anywhere,’ I’d told myself. I then proceeded to spend the entire afternoon each day shiftily looking at girls I liked but being constricted by fear. For three days straight I didn’t have the confidence to even speak to a girl. I’d take the train home exhausted from mental fatigue after fighting battles in my mind similar to the scene from the movie Sexy Beast, where Ben Kingsley is attempting to convince Ray Winston to come back to a life of crime and do one last bank robbery.
‘You’re doing it.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Yes.’
‘No.’
‘You’re fucking doing it.’
‘I’m not fucking doing it.’
‘Yes, yes, fucking yes.’
Finally on the fourth day I managed to walk right right up to a girl. I opened my mouth to speak but got crippled by anxiety and acted confused as though I thought she was somebody else. I simply turned away, creeping both of us out. Then as I walked back toward the train station I seen an extremely average looking girl with long shiny dark brown hair and a bohemian fashion style. Spurred on by frustration and anger I followed her into the shoe shop and tapped her on the shoulder, “Excuse me, I seen you outside and thought you looked nice.”
She looked at me for a couple of seconds, broke half a smile and just said, “Thanks.”
I was so nervous I could feel my bottom lip quivering. I just wanted to leave, but I forced myself to ask, “Would I be able to get your number and maybe take you out sometime?”
She looked at me nonchalantly, “Yeah I suppose.”
Afterward I walked into the train station still shaking from fear, but excitement too. ‘My first official number from a girl in a shop,’ I mused.
Once home and back in my comfort zone I could employ my much more confident texting skills. I managed to convince her to meet me for a meal the following week.
I wouldn’t normally take girls to restaurants on first dates but felt this was a need to celebrate. I was elated. I was having an actual date with a girl I met in a shop.
She turned out to be annoying, but undeterred I invited her on a second date. If we had sex it would feel like I’d achieved something insurmountable in life by fucking a girl from the mall.
When I drove to pick her up I managed to convince her to share some wine with me at my place. I put on a movie and we briefly chatted but she made her excuses and left after an hour. Later that night she sent me a text, ‘Sorry but coming to sit in your bedroom to watch a movie isn’t my idea of fun. Take care.’
That was the end of my career in meeting girls from shops and supermarkets.
I was getting hotter girls from bars and clubs anyway and it was fast thrilling adventure sex. I turned my back on trying to meet girls during the day. Only now Bodi was beginning to convince me otherwise.
Then I met Chris.