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Going full circle

If you're here for Daygame adventures, it’s best to skip this one. It's about as sappy as a cheap romantic comedy, or a "chick flick" as we say on the sunny side of the Atlantic. No smash, bang, and frivolous fornication today. This one is sentimental and reeks of chump, beta feels.

Beta is as Beta Does

Here I am, anxiously awaiting texts from a girl I slept with last week, planning my responses and noting snippets throughout my day to share with her. She left Barcelona a few days after we first met, and now I'm imagining what it would be like to experience the sights and sounds of this city together with her. I'm projecting what our future could look like, telling myself "she's the one" and “there's no one like her”.

When was the last time, you fellow Daygamer, have felt such beta-ness coursing through your veins?

Allow me to set the stage here. I had a couple of long-term girlfriends in my 20s and sincerely began Daygame in my early 30s with NYC as my stomping grounds. Though I found some success, it ate me up and spat me out. Considering that my lifetime lay count before Daygame was 3, I had a long uphill battle.

A few years later, now in my late 30s, I've got 13 Daygame notches carved into my belt and 19 in my lifetime. These are not elite numbers, nonetheless, I've hit a level of maturity and underlying value of which I'm proud. I'm confident around the girls I approach, and it's rare I ever think myself as "not good enough" for a girl. If I see a model-like girl walking around, the weasel I fall back on is "she's not my type" rather than "I have no chance". What I mean by that, is that I can't imagine a Gucci/Versace girl around my arms—it just doesn't meld with my being. I don't value monetary status and it's unlikely we'd get beyond a few flirty gestures. Don't get me wrong, I'd happily fuck this girl had I the opportunity, but would I marry her? Would she marry me? Probably not.

You know who would? Thinking back over the girls I've best gotten along with, the ones I had as relationships or regulars, tend to have shared characteristics. From this I've painted a picture of the perfect girl for me (who, just so coincidentally, happens to describe my last lay): she's a short, slim, petite, artsy introvert. She gets bonus points for having a multicultural background—I know, blasphemy in our little community! It is my opinion that speaking multiple languages, having a perspective from multiple traditions and histories, is a net benefit.

The Girl

I'm in Barcelona working American hours, so my Daygame is roughly between 12:30p and 2p. I met her on a Thursday while she was on her way to a Gaudí-designed house, wearing a little hair bonnet/rag/thing and a denim outfit. I told her she was attractive and that her hair thing reminded me of the rag Cinderella wears, teasing that at any moment her outfit will change. She laughed and opened up, though didn't play along with the tease, so I quickly moved away from it. I'm not the most witty, which in turn attracts girls who prefer comfort and deeper conversation. We meshed relatively well as she explained she was born in Mexico, raised in the US, and is now taking a bit of time off to travel before applying for a new job. It was a decent set, no fire but there was some interest.

Her flight would leave a few days later on Sunday. I finish work at 11p, so suggested we meet up for a drink on Saturday when we're both free. The texting was reliable, but still no fire. On Friday she asked if we could meet that night, agreeing to an 11:30p drink. Quite suggestive, eh?

We have drink one looking out into Plaza Real. Plenty of comfort as our conversation flows. Yellow lights to my escalation, though she seemed quite comfortable otherwise. When she asked my age, I said 32, her then responding that she's 25. As the bar closed down, I walked her to a nearby area, pointing out my apartment along the way. The cocktail bars I looked up beforehand were either full, gay or too loud. I hinted that we could go back to mine for wine. Instead, she suggested an excellent lounge nearby and off we went for a cocktail. There was no escalation here, our seats were too far yet the conversation dug deeper. Having read plenty of blog posts from Thomas Crown and Wolfe, I acted on their expertise—that Americans tend not to give off signals of interest and the best thing to do is to suggest the bounce back at the end of the night. Given that I already suggested wine at mine earlier, I walked her back to mine without telling her where we were going after that second venue.

Back at mine I gave her the grand tour, offered her water, and poured the wine. As we continued the tour of this 1 bedroom, tarnished flat, I put my hand on her hip, made eye contact, and pulled her in for a kiss. We made out a bit then I gave her space. Ten minutes and a few more sips of wine later, we sealed the deal.

Afterward, she told me she'd never done this before, that is having sex on a first date. Walking hand-in-hand with her the next day, she said "I've never held hands so quickly, on a second date". I'm a beta who might be clouded in love, so I believe her.

We spent the night together, alternating between pillow talk, cuddling, kissing, sexing, and pretending to sleep. She went home at 8a, with us having agreed to meet a few hours later to visit a museum together.

We had a wonderful lovey-dovey day of sightseeing, culminating with me staying at her hotel. The emotions were strong in me at those moments, though I have a strict policy against whispering sweet nothings. It's easy to get caught up in the hormones at the moment, and I have no desire to mislead a girl. I wanted a couple of nights' sleep to remove myself from those emotions. Despite that, we did lay hints here and there to each other about how we felt happy to be together.

Our texting continued, and a couple of days later I told her I wanted to see her again. She reciprocated but evaded my attempt to draw out logistics. This is where we stand now: she texts back, though at a pace that doesn't indicate a matching level of interest. My intention is to fully pursue this opportunity if there's something there, prepared to deliver my true age before booking logistics to see her again. If she doesn’t feel the same, I'm preparing the list of (spurious) negatives I see in her to push myself "out of love".

I know, this shit is so stupid it sounds like a Friend’s episode. Just be thankful I kept it under 2,000 words.

What Means, Good Sir?

Over the last year, I've chatted with several elite Daygamers. Usually, we chat about logistics, cities, and sometimes leads, but more so, I've been curious about their endgame. Or at least what they expect of their endgame. They are either planning to eventually settle down or are in the process of doing so. Here are guys that can consistently pull quality—I hold them in high esteem, so listen intently as they ponder their next move. Ultimately, however, I couldn't decide my own fate until I had a certain level of experience, which I've now reached. I am far from elite, as my lay count above establishes, though it doesn't add to my net life happiness to work towards that goal. As I walk around this truly magnificent Spanish city, I can’t help but think how much I'd like to share this experience with some woman established in my life, having a set of shared values for appreciating the builders and movers before us.

Maybe it's my age, maybe it's seeing my parents age; whatever it is, I know that I am a builder. I want to build, I want to establish, I want to produce and protect, I want to invest. In short, it means I want to create a family. Until I've got that, I'll be Daygaming. I don't expect I'll find this girl through other means, though for you experienced fellas out there, I more than welcome your thoughts and suggestions.

With Daygame as my primary means to this end, I won't be exploring new cities much longer. Between visa restrictions, the girls I like, where the girls like me, and the places I enjoy, I will focuse my efforts on Spain and Argentina.

Hará Breezitos, con toda mi corazón, hará Breezitos!

This blog will remain online and active, at least until I find the right woman with whom I'll build.

I owe a thank you to the many great players before me, from whom I've learned, met and winged: Midwest, TC, Wolfe, White, Runner, Mr. V, Magnum, Great Joe, Red Quest, RPD, Krauser, Roy Walker. And to those I never met: Torero (RIP) and Bodi. I've certainly left people out; beer's on me next time we meet.

I leave one last thought, which, frankly, is a bit of a downer. One of the reasons I got into Daygame, other than the obvious urge to bed many attractive women, was to take my destiny into my own hands. I did not want life to happen to me, I wanted me to happen to life: I wanted to be the driver behind my relationships. I never liked to hear guys say “I’m so lucky to have met her, that she was in my pottery class”. I didn’t want uncontrollable circumstances to play such a large role in my life. Daygame is the solution to this problem, except for the fact that when I do talk to Daygamers in relationships they often say something along the lines of “she’s special” or “I’m lucky I met her”. It comes full circle.

To whatever extent we control our fate, we equally are its recipient.