More on the daily burden of horniness

Following the basic rules of peacocking*, I bought the stylish detective/moviestar hat I'd secretly always wanted to wear as an accessory (Perhaps I'm secretly metrosexual? Who knows? Who cares?). Adding that to my basic gear of suit jacket, some carefully applied eyeliner, witty repartée and the Mystery Method, I was ready to take on the nightlife. Also starring in today's arduous deed was Mike, in preparation for his madventure to India.

A quick analysis on the evening: Finnish girls seem to be generally less approached than the ladies in say, the vicinity of Mystery's homesquares. Which would suggest that the bullshit-detectors around here either aren't so sensitive, or my outfit made a bigger impact than I first thought possible. So the negs and routines intended to turn off loser-detectors needed to be tuned down a bit. And when I mean a bit, I'm talking about switching your elephant hunting rifle for the pea-shooting gun, more suited for the job of taking down the annoying badger in your garden.

Events turned interesting as I ran into the blockhead-girl from the past. She introduced us to her friends and we were quick to own the company. Resulting was two ladies and a follow-up at their place. Which was a nice change of pace, it'd been a while since I'd been invited, well, anywhere, by strangers. As the dedicated driver, though, I was getting mighty tired at this point, so we called it a night and headed home with the (t)rusty old Mazda6.

The next evening I had an cunning gameplan: Take the girls from the previous night as pivots* to gather some more (feminine) company. That plan didn't work too well though, as I was the only one bouncing around the bar talking to strangers. And even my energy levels were close to nothing at this point. Why push it, I thought, the parties aren't going anywhere. So we left to play some cards at the nearby pub. Not a real card game like poker, mind you, it was one of those fake ones where luck plays a part.

As we walked the girls home I found myself wondering if my priorities were quite correctly arranged. I mean, I'd prepared myself to sarge clubs for at least six months to find some or even any action. And I'm talking about dragging home any female creature under 300kg. But here I was, chatting and joking with this beautiful girl I'd met the day before, with no sign of mutual boredom or suicidal tendencies. Now I don't find too many people interesting, and that goes double for the ladies. But still, until this girl turns out to be a 45-year old manwoman from the failed sex change experiments in deep Siberia, I gotta say I've been in worse situations.

So my pickup-guide for losers got me a date this week. How do ya like them apples?

*peacocking = accessorizing yourself to appear different and exquisite
*pivot = a girlfriend who helps raise social value