I always find it amusing when I read about people who suffer from approach anxiety. Not making fun of anybody … but, for some reason, I have never had a problem approaching women. Even in my AFC days I would walk up to the hottest girls and get their phone numbers. The problem: being an AFC, I did not really know what to do, and most of the time wound up becoming the mayor of Friendsville.Once I came into the community, I had better results after making approaches. Many of you may recall my first major success … simply reading a paragraph from a Ross Jeffries book over the phone and having her show up at my doorstep minutes later. But one disturbing trend remains … which may be the opposite of approach anxiety.
I call it … closing anxiety.
I thought about this while I was out at the local burger joint the other night. I’d just seen a movie and went to the takeout counter to get a burger and some onion rings to go.
Earlier at the theater I noticed a number of police officers standing around. Apparently, some of the local teenagers have been making trouble and so now there is a regular police presence. I wanted to know if my “favorite officer” (a very hot and delicious blonde) was still single … and asked how much they bribed the Desk Sergeant to get this great assignment where they can sniff the popcorn and sneak into movies.
Anyway, one of the cops was at the takeout counter so I sat with him and talked about how the uniform made it so much easier to pull women. After he received his order and departed, this gorgeous Middle Eastern (or perhaps Indian) girl came up and put what I thought was her son (about 5 years old) on the stool next to me.
At first she seemed shy, but I find that just by making eye contact I can open. She did the “shifty eye” thing women in this area do … so I just let my eyes rest on her body. She could tell from her peripheral vision that I was gazing (not staring like a creep … there is a difference) at her. Finally, she allowed herself to look at me … and when our eyes met, she smiled.
I asked her, “How old is your son ?”
She laughed and said she was babysitting for a relative.
So I turned to the kid and said, “Oh, so this is your girlfriend ?”
That little guy looked at me with wide eyes and his jaw dropped and said , “No I’m just a little kid !”
I said, “Yeah, but she is so hot and gorgeous that you should make her your girlfriend.”
He said, “But I’m little !”
I told him that if he realized that he had a big heart and if he had a big mentality, she would be his. Then I turned to her and said “You would wait for him to grow up, wouldn’t you ?”
She laughed and said, “I would wait for him, sure.”
From there it was all on. And I got into sarging this girl and was at the point of getting her digits when the owner of the restaurant (who always serves me when I stop in) handed me my order.
The smell of that freshly made burger and onion rings flipped my libido off and my stomach juices on … and my only focus at that moment was quickly getting that food home and devouring it.
After I had eaten, I was pissed at myself for not focusing on closing that babe.
I recall doing the same thing in Montreal during one of the Cliff’s List Conventions.
I was with a bunch of guys and we were all going for sushi, but we saw a group of girls in what was probably a wedding party and the guys wanted to sarge them. It was interesting to watch … most of those guys I think were newbies. At one point, Mystery and his posse made a detour over to join in. He had those girls captivated.
Me being into energy and all, I was kind of remotely feeling the girls out and one suddenly began eying me. I knew I could have just stepped in and gotten her simply by getting the Alpha (whom I identified just by her energy with the other girls) involved and making it her idea for the HB to go with me. But … I really wanted sushi (erm, the kind that comes with wasabi and rice, that is).
I did notice the inevitable crash and burn of that session before it happened: the Alpha of the group (who was the least attractive of the bunch) was being ignored and even got a neg. I realized that by losing the Alpha, they would lose the entire group of hot women. The thought of pulling the HB who was eying me by wrangling the Alpha popped into my head again … but was crowded out by thoughts of all-you-can-eat (my four favorite words) sushi.
The sarge quickly collapsed, Mystery and his group departed, the girls followed the Alpha back inside the hotel … and we got to head out for food.
Maybe I should just go out on a full stomach and that would solve my problem ?
The most recent interesting experience happened at the gym.
In my experience, women working out do not like being approached. Still, I will walk by and try to make eye contact (although most have perfected that “shifty-eye” thing to keeping their eyes away from you) but I do it just for grins.
As I approached my favorite cardio machine, I saw a very hot blonde with long hair extensions that made her look like one of those Real Housewives of Hoboken New Jersey or something. She had a nice set of Ds and a nice, curvy, yet athletic shape. She was doing the “shifty-eye” but I figured, why not … so I walked over to her machine and said, “You are taking it too easy on that machine. Faster. Harder. Faster ! Harder !”
She laughed and said that she needed to work on her thighs. My eyes went from hers down her body and stopped at her thighs. I licked my lips and said, “Mission accomplished,, your thighs look perfect to me.”
I turned to hop onto my machine when she called out and tried to continue the conversation. I chatted with her for a short while but was on a tight schedule and I had to get my hour workout in before heading to my job.
As I was working out and focusing on ESPN on the flat screen, I noticed her leaving. By the time I got down to the last 10 minutes of my work out, she came walking back towards me.
I said, “Hey, you’re back.”
She laughed and jumped on the machine next to me. Next thing I knew, I was being bombarded with every detail of her life … intimate details about her family, her social life, her career aspirations (like wanting to be a therapist with only a bachelor’s degree) … all stuff that I couldn’t care less about hearing.
She noticed she was losing me and so asked a question about this guy that she’s obsessed with who goes out with what she refers to as a “skinny ugly beeyotch.” I told her that if she could not forget about him, she was an obsessed stalker.
She was like, “No way,” and pretended like she wanted my advice. I told her I had nothing else for her because she was an obsessed stalker. I tried to return my attention to the flat screen when she said she needed advice on how to get him to go out with her. I told her that she was wasting my time since I was a real man and couldn’t advise her on the foolishness of idiotic boys.
She got onto the subject of this photo shoot that she had coming up. Some guy said he would pay her six-figures to fly out to be photographed at the Playboy Mansion. Now I know women who hang out at the Mansion and they are all skinny with no curves except for their fake boobs. This curvy girl could get into the Playboy Mansion just like I could get into an episode of “The L Word.” Not !
I hope this girl doesn’t get on a plane and fly off somewhere and wind up missing with her face on the side of a milk carton, or worse. How naïve could she be ?
She started playing the broken record again and said maybe she should learn to hypnotize him. I told her I hypnotize women all the time.
She said, “I better not look at you then. You could hypnotize me to come away with you.
I responded, “I don’t need hypnotism to make you come.”
The convo continued and I noticed something weird. The scent of female sex was getting very heavy in the atmosphere.
I noticed her repeatedly wiping her inner thighs and sniffing her fingers. She was wearing very loose shorts and apparently nothing underneath. She was so turned on that her vag was dripping down her thighs. Pretty soon, every woman in the gym had their eyes on the two of us.
Now this young lady’s convo was getting big time into sexual topics. I feigned disinterest.
She asked, “Are you married ?”
I said, “No.”
“Do they know about each other ?”
“Does it matter ?”
That got her talking about her willingness to do threesomes. This seemed too easy. What is the catch, I wonder ?
Next, she mentions that she has a dildo (she actually felt she had to explain to me that a dildo was “like a vibrator !”) that she likes to use on other girls. She was talking very loudly and didn’t seem to care that people are staring at her … and smelling her pheromones probably.
At this point I was thinking I should close this girl, take her to one of the unused racquetball courts, and then …
She mentions that she loves stripping for guys … and then asks me if she would have to be at least 18 to perform at a strip club.
Is that her way of telling me that she is a minor ?
Danger, Will Robinson. Danger ! Danger !
I mentally pieced together her earlier babbling and remembered that she lives at home with her father and his second wife … and that she works out at this club because of a family membership.
All-righty then … I am ready to exit stage left !
After showering and changing, I saw an old buddy behind the manager’s desk. He originally worked at another branch of this health club chain that had closed down and was now floating between locations.
More importantly, I noticed a new face: a cute and classy (nice change of pace) hottie sitting at the adjacent desk.
I ask, “Is this hottie your boss or your underling ?”
She found that amusing and the next thing I know, we’re deep in convo. I’m thinking she’s a lot better than the under aged hoochie mama with the blonde extensions and the leaking box. So now my plan is to pick her up right in front of her boss. Then, I look at the clock and realize I’m about to be late for work, which would be the second time (not a good thing).
So, do I have close anxiety … or misplaced priorities … or just bad timing ?
Next time, I will have to follow a checklist before going anywhere:
Full stomach … check.
Plenty of time on the clock … check.