“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” I asked a girl next to the only available seat in a busy Czech bar.
I was in Prague, a city I wanted to visit for a long time, and with only a week to leave my mark (and my sperm), I duly contacted anyone who might be in town. A friend of a friend invited me to a birthday party at a busy bar in the town square.
“No, it’s not,” replied the girl. She had a strange accent that piqued my curiousity.
Relieved that a seat was available, I quickly claimed it by dropping my jacket and promptly went over to the bar to satisfy my thirst with Czech’s best treat: a cold Pilsner.
Relaxed and with a beer in hand, I returned to my seat and got a better look at the person I suddenly found myself sitting next to. She was cute, with a pretty face, bright blue eyes, and straight light brown hair that seemingly ran forever – at least to her waist, as far as I saw.
After a brief chat I learned that she was from Latvia, a small Baltic country that was part of Soviet Union. Still being cocky from my New York days and never the one to resist a good tease, I sarcastically asked her whether she spoke Russian (since it’s “doubtful” that anyone still spoke Latvian in Latvia).
Predictably she got very annoyed but I was able to quickly salvage the situation by explaining her that “of course I knew they speak Latvian there; I was born in Ukraine, another country that the ‘bad’ and ‘evil’ Russians conquered.” (Editor’s note: I don’t recommend this approach if you’re not familiar with fragile FSU politics because the girl will easily take it personally and never speak to you again.)
After we chatted for an hour or two, I realized that I still didn’t have her on lockdown: a couple of other guys, a young Frenchman and an older Spaniard, were entertaining her as well.
I played it cool but simultaneously began to strategize my next move. I had to either compete with these guys or take her to another venue where she’d have my undivided attention.
When the guys went to get more beers, I went for it:
“Hey, a couple of friends and I are planning to go to another bar for a few drinks. Would you like to come?”
It was a lie — it was just going to be her and me.
“Hmm. Where is this bar?”
She didn’t seem too convinced.
“It’s just across the main square. I was there the other day, and it’s really nice. It also has live music.”
Lies and more lies — it was just some dive bar.
She thought about it for a few seconds but her body language told the whole story and it wasn’t good.
“I’d prefer to stay here. I really like this bar.”
She smiled and quickly turned around to talk to the other guys, who by this time had invited their friends and were forming a small group, and I wasn’t invited.
I — a man of unrivaled game and vast experience stretching across three continents of US, Latin America and Europe — was hereby rejected by an inexperienced twenty-two year old girl from a small and inconsequential country.
I was crushed and dejected and was left alone with no friends or plans.
I finished my beer and decided to do what I always do in such situations: go outside to revive my spirits and strategize my next move.
I stood outside and looked at the happy crowds of people all enjoying their time while I was alone, again. I took out my smartphone and played with it for few minutes, checking email and chatting with some friends back home. But none of those friends was with me now; I had to solve this problem on my own.
I agonized whether it was worth to return to the bar, go somewhere else, or call it quits and go home.
I began thinking back to my Brazilian days where it was usually persistence – not model looks or great sense of humor – that ultimately dictated whether you went alone empty handed, or at the least left with a number and a prospect.
Most guys I know simply “next” girl when things don’t go their way. But you can’t “next” a girl you haven’t slept with — you’re the one being nexted.
I re-analyzed the situation and recognized that I wasn’t really rejected; she simply failed a minor compliance test, compliance test that was given to her too early before sufficient attraction and comfort was established.
Fuck it — I deserved to fuck her more than any of those other guys. I bled, toiled and struggled more than any of those rookies put together.
I decided to go back to the bar and not leave without at least her number.
I immediately saw her as soon as I re-entered. She was chatting with the group and having a good time. I didn’t approach them right away. Instead I mingled with other groups first, chatting with some guys and flirting with other girls.
Later, as the whole group went to another bar, I chatted up the Spaniard. Impressed that I spoke Spanish, he asked me where I learned it. I told him in Mexico and proceeded to win his friendship by teaching him some Mexican slang. That was my Trojan horse. It was enough to win him over and be introduced to the group. The battle was now mine to lose.
I purposely ignored her while I chatted with others. Then I reinitiated communication with her by acting surprised and that I’m “glad to see her again.”
Soon we were chatting again, and I left that night with her number all but assuring that the next time we meet there would be no other penises competing for her vagina.
We slept on the third date.
Since then we’ve met in various parts of Europe, including her home country.
We still keep in touch and I joke that our meeting was by complete chance, a fact that reinforces her belief that she “magically” met her prince charming. Little does she know how that “magical” meeting had a good chance of not happening at all.
Doesn’t matter now. Besides, why ruin her fantasy by telling her things she doesn’t need to know?BTW, have you seen my new Facebook page? Click here to check it out, and click Like :)
Recommended for you:
For information on how to meet and date Brazilian girls, subscribe to my Brazilian Dating newsletter and find out when my long-awaited Brazilian Dating Guide is released.