- Joined
- Nov 30, 2019
- Messages
- 35
Blame it on the Alcohol
I’m in Santiago’s main square downtown, La Plaza de Armas. It’s a bit like Times Square – people preaching, tourists snapping pictures, street performers dancing. I sit on a bench, waiting to see who passes by.Eventually I notice a girl at a street stand ordering what looks like mote con huesillo, a traditional summer-time drink in Chile. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, with beautiful eyes – they look like Eva Mendez’s – and a cute face.
She begins to stroll away from the street stand. It’s a very slow walk, as if she’s in no rush and not going anywhere in particular. A mental flash of fucking her from behind pops in my head. I stand up, catch up to her, and open her over my shoulder as I begin to pass by her. It’s my typical opener, telling her who she looks like.
We start to chat as we stroll in the same direction. Turns out she’s from Venezuela but has been living in Chile for a few years. She’s a dance teacher and just finished up with her classes for the day.
The eye contact between us is solid. There’s nothing sexual about it, yet, but she’s giving me good amounts of it, like she’s focused on what I’m saying. As we talk about her passion for dance, I relate by telling her my first experience taking a latin dance class:
“The first dance class that I ever took was in college, and they were teaching us salsa, bachata, and tango. I knew some of my classmates, but before that class, none of us had ever danced together. I’ll always remember the first day when they paired us up and we began dancing the basic steps of salsa together. It was so interesting – it felt like I was discovering an entire side of my classmates that I had never known before! As I danced with each person, I could feel their sense of rhythm… how comfortable they were with their own bodies… and the physical chemistry that we shared. I walked out of the class that day totally surprised. It felt like I had discovered a new language for expressing myself and getting to know other people.”
I suggest that we sit somewhere, and she’s down. It’s a very sunny day, so we look for a shady place to sit, and, coincidentally, we end up sitting on the same bench where I first noticed her.
We’re here for about 30 minutes, and the dynamic feels good. She actively asks me questions, and, when I ask her questions, she goes into herself to really answer in depth.
Our convo ranges from the dating culture in Chile, to what her love languages are, to what emotion she seeks out the most. When I ask her what emotion she seeks, her answer is interesting: self-love. Even though her passions are dancing and singing, she feels like creativity and self-expression are innate to her and that she’s never had to work for them. Self-love, on the other hand, requires her conscious effort.
Sexual tension also begins to build. It comes about in a fascinating way: through the pretense of a “language barrier.” I’m conversationally fluent in Spanish, and I understand almost everything I hear, but my Spanish clearly isn’t perfect. At various points in our convo, the girl would finish saying something. Rather than nod my head in understanding, I’d just look at her in silence with a small smirk. She’d then look at me and say, “I can’t tell if you understand what I said or not!” I’d then wait a couple of beats – a pregnant pause – and give only a subtle nod of my head with a small smile. In these moments, there’s also playful, sparkling eye contact between us as she’s trying to read what I’m thinking.
Some light sexual joking also begins. At one point, she uses the word “encajar,” which apparently also has a sexual connotation (it means to put something into another thing). She takes it back, saying that it’s not a word that she should be teaching me, and we jokingly call back to this throughout the day.
In terms of Gun’s “Three Keys,” I feel like they’re all building solidly at this point. We’ve hit a sexual hook point, where she’s clearly feeling the moments of sexual tension. At the same time, the conversation seems to stimulate her. She seems pretty immersed.
The Plaza de Armas is a place that attracts characters, and at some point we start to hear a ruckus behind us. It’s just a group of guys talking loudly to each other, but the girl seems to be distracted and bothered by it. I suggest we move, so we start walking, and we decide to grab drinks at a nearby bar.
As we’re walking, she playfully gives me shit about whether this is how I always start conversations with women – that is, by telling them who they look like.
“Nah, do you want to know my actual pick-up line?”
“Okay…”
“I’m not sure if I should say it, though. It’s extremely powerful and you might not be ready.”
“Haha just tell me, what is it?”
“Okay.” I point to my shirt. “Do you know what material this shirt is made of?”
She studies it for a few seconds, giving it real thought.
“Hmm… it’s cotton, right?”
“Nah, it’s 100% boyfriend material.”
She cracks up.
“You see, that is my pickup line. It gets girls wet every time. I usually don’t even have to say anything else and they’re ready to go to bed with me”
When we get to the bar, we sit at a table outside, and for the first time we’re sitting across from each other face to face. It’s a little more intimate than the bench in terms of the closeness and the direct eye contact.
We’re here for around an hour and a half, each of us drinking two Golden Ales. The convo continues to flow smoothly, with each of the keys deepening. And for the first time that day, I start to get into a strong sexual state as I imagine kissing her neck, her arms, her entire body. I’m not overt about the sexual state, though. I let it filter through my eye contact, my deepened tonality, my microexpressions. I’m sure that she picks up on it.
As we’re finishing up our beers, the girl says that she’s hungry and wants to eat. Obviously a good sign – she wants this to continue. It’s late evening now, and the kitchen at the bar is closed, so we look up the nearest pizza place. My plan is for us to grab a bite there, and then I’ll go for the pull.
We eventually make our way to the pizza place, but when we get there, it’s closed. I start to look on my phone for other nearby pizza spots. But the neighborhood that we’re in is starting to feel sketchy – La Plaza de Armas area changes a lot when it gets dark – so, internally, I don’t like the idea of walking around anymore. At this point, fortunately, The Gods of Pickup intervene: the girl, out of nowhere, asks me if there are any good pizza places in the neighborhood where I live.
Boom
“Actually, yeah, there’s a place that I walk by everyday that seems really good. I’ll call an Uber and we can go, it’s only 10 minutes away.”
The Uber comes a few minutes later and takes us to the pizza spot. I order a big pizza to share. As I’m ordering, the cashier tells me that the restaurant is closing and asks me if I’m okay with takeout. Another assist from The Gods of Pickup.
The girl asks me where we’re going to eat the pizza, and I tell her that we can eat it at my place – I’m only a couple of blocks away and have a really nice view. She says okay, sure.
When we get to my AirBnB, I pour out some wine, turn on music videos, and lay out the pizza on my bed. (As I described in my Leopard Leggings report, this apartment has no couch, only a bed in front of the TV.) We’re both super hungry, so we just lie in bed, enjoying the pizza while talking and sharing our favorite songs.
When we’ve finished eating, I scoot back to the headboard, and I put my arm around her as she joins me. We continue drinking our wine and watching the music videos. This is usually when “it’s on” in terms of sexual energy, but this girl is super absorbed by the music videos. Almost in a trance. It makes sense, in a way, since she dances and sings, but it’s also amusing how immersed she is in the songs.
It’s not about the music at this point, girl
Eventually, finally, we start to kiss. When things start getting hot and heavy, she says that she wasn’t at all expecting that she’d be doing this today, and that we can’t do anything because she was teaching dance classes earlier and still feels sweaty.
Music to my ears: she’s basically saying she’s down for sex but feels self-conscious.
“That’s cool, I understand. We don’t need to do anything else, but just kissing like this is nice, right?”
“Yeah.”
We go back to making out and things start to get hot and heavy again. I tell her that we should both take a shower together if it makes her feel more comfortable. She nods and says that that’d be good.
As we’re getting up to go to the shower, she starts to laugh. She says that she can’t believe what we’re doing:
“I never do this type of thing… It must’ve been all of the beer and wine that we drank!”
(It’s been only 2 beers and a glass of wine.)
Cue Jamie Foxx: Jamie Foxx - Blame It (Official Video) ft. T-Pain
