When the Bull Decided to Run...

[Guest]

[color=#0000ff]I don't post a lot of FRs/LRs, it's not my style. But, this doesn't mean that I don't have a shit ton of them lying around. Fact is that I've written down virtually every important interaction I've ever had with women. Some are very comical, some are very meaningful, some are crazy...all have taught me something.

I've decided to open up the flood gates and post some of my more favorite FRs/LRs for all to read. My goal is to create a platform from which we can all learn about ourselves, to create a platform from which you can really begin to understand the complex nature of Bull Run, and lastly, but not least, to entertain.

These are my stories, this is my life. Enjoy, I know I have...[/color]

[color=#ff0000]It is important to note that this was written for a completely ignorant audience of the Game and that it was one of the earliest FRs I ever wrote. I almost literally wrote this post two weeks after reading The Game, that's how green I was.

Furhter, the general theme of this post is that change can literally occur in a month, week, day, or MOMENT. Don't give up, push the envelope, hopefully one day you'll be unrecognizable to yourself as you.[/color]

Outplayed by a Chick

Normally all of my stories are how I bagged the girl, how I manipulated the girl, how I made the girl a fool. Just because all my stories have others playing the fool doesn’t mean that I don’t get burned every now and again. Yes my friends I was beaten at my own game of sexual manipulation. This is a very recent story, not even a week old.

Wednesday nights are karaoke night at The Corner Bar. It is one of the places to be in Dallas on Wednesday. The scene is amazing, wall to wall chicks just waiting to be manipulated into polishing my knob.

Before I arrive at TCB, I polish off a few drinks and review the lyrics to the song I plan on singing. It’s imperative to sing a song that people remember you by, it makes for easy conversation if they’re interested in you. Anyway, I’m feeling nice and loose from the alcohol, which is crucial for effectively throwing down my game. I’ve found that being a little tippsy achieves two things: first, it takes the edge off, takes away the hesitation, makes you feel more comfortable in your own skin. Second, it puts you on par with your targets. They won’t suspect that you’re cycling through canned routines and skits if you’re drunk. I feel ready and I head out the door.

I’m scheduled to meet some co-workers at 9ish. This is good because I’ll always have a home base to return to during the times in which I’m not entertaining a set. I wouldn’t really consider any of these people to be my friend, so I don’t feel obligated to stay and talk with them. It’s the best of both worlds.

I’m there 5 minutes before I submit my name for karaoke and begin working on a tall black haired woman named Stacy. She gives me the ‘I have a boy-friend’ routine…I’ve heard it a thousand times before. Fact is that she probably doesn’t have a boy-friend and she’s running this little test on me to see how I’ll react. I, of course, am unfazed. I ask if he’s at the bar. She says no, then she says that it’s too loud in here and that we should go outside to talk. I say that I don’t think her boy-friend would approve then I walk away. I’m not going to try to run game on a chick that’s running game on me.

My name is called for my turn at karaoke…I get up to the mic and the music starts. And the song I chose? “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred. And, I sang my heart out. I danced, I strutted, I even slapped myself on the ass. All of this just so that I could make myself more memorable…it worked. The rest of the night, I was the guy that sang “I’m Too Sexy.”

After singing, I make my way to the bar for another drink. On the way, I run into a group of girls. Not sure how I started talking with them, but I did. All of the girls are cute so I’m not sure which I want to be my target, I decide to just wait for the first one that introduces herself to me. A couple of seconds later, I’m chatting with a girl named Mandy. She tells me that her and her friends are headed to The Candle Room and that I should join them…I decide to balk on that because I just met her. I haven’t had enough time to change venues and still be remembered. I cut my losses and move on.

I decide to do a lap around the bar, looking for the right girl in the optimal situation, with the right opener. Then, I find it in the back of the bar. I spot one girl sitting at a table watching her friends play pool. A guy and a girl. The girl playing pool is 5’3’’, tan, fit, energetic smile, and wearing a tight little black dress. I decide that she’s my next target. I make a B line to the table where her friend is sitting. I overhear her friend talking to the guy, Douchebag, that her girl-friend, HB Target, is losing. I cut in:

Bull Run: Acting like I just walked by and overheard what was said, “No, no, no. You aren’t winning or losing at pool until you win or lose.” I turn to the guy, “Right?”
Douchebag: “The man has a point.”
Girl at Table: “Look!” Points at the table. “HB Target has all her balls on the table and he only has two left. How can you say he isn’t winning?”
Bull Run: “Gross! HB Target has balls!”
HB Target: “What? Who has balls?”
Bull Run: “Your friend here was telling me that you’re actually a man and that you have all your balls on the table.”
HB Target: Opens her mouth in a playful manner as if to appear like she’s shocked.
Bull Run: “That’s pretty gross, really. Don’t you know you shouldn’t open your mouth in public? Where did you learn your manners?” Then I turn around and start talking to her friends again. HB Target playfully slaps me on the back, indicator of interest #1.

In the ensuing conversation I come to find that HB Target and Douchebag have a bet going, if Douchebag wins then HB Target has to get a guy to give her his boxers, if HB Target wins then Douchebag has to sing karaoke. This leads into one of my more favorite routines: Victor’s Secret. The way you play this game is that you pick out three guys in the bar and you determine if they are wearing briefs, boxers, boxer-briefs, or nothing. HB Target asks me what kind of undies I’m wearing, indicator of interest #2. Anyway, I spot out three guys to be the subjects of our game and everyone submits their guesses. Then, I approach the guys and find out what they’re wearing…initially I get weird looks from the guys, but when I explain that my friends have a bet going that HB Target has to de-boxer a guy if she loses they perk up and play along. I go back to the table with answers in hand.

Victor’s Secret is such a great game because almost all women will guess but won’t actually ask the guys to see if they’re right, this is when you takeover. It shows her that you’re bold, personable, aggressive, and outgoing. And, since you did something she wasn’t willing to do, it sends the subliminal message that you have higher value than her. This instantly makes you more attractive. HB Target was no different. As I got back to the table and told everyone the answers, she asked me my name…indicator of interest #3. She’s officially hooked.

I continue the pattern of pushing her away then pulling her back in. When she touches me I tell her ‘hands off the goods,’ then I put my hand in the small of her back. When she says something stupid I call her out on it and mercilessly tease her, then I tell her that she’s smart. When she asks what I do, I play the Occupation Routine on her. When she tells me to buy her a drink, I tell her that she should buy me a drink. I continue talking to her friends more than her and when she tries to get my attention, I ask her friends how they can hang out with someone so needy. You get the idea. Once I feel like she’s had enough, I grab her by the arm and take her to the bar:

HB Target: “Where are we going?”
Bull Run: “I’m thirsty. Aren’t you thirsty? Let’s get a drink.”
HB Target: “I want a vodka and cranberry.”
Bull Run: “Nope, you’ll drink what I order you.” I turn to the bartender, “two Red Headed Sluts.”
HB Target: “No! I can’t drink that stuff!”
Bull Run: “Listen, you wanted me to buy you a drink all night and once I finally do you don’t want it? That’s not right. Seriously, where did you learn your manners?” I turn away, giving her the freeze out.
HB Target: “Ok, ok! I’ll do it!”
Bull Run: “That a girl.”

We have one more shot. Then her friends come and get her to leave. As they’re leaving, HB Target stays behind for a couple of seconds and gives her friends the ‘get the hell out of here look.’ I ask her for her number, call her phone, and tell her that I’ll call her later. By later I meant in a couple of days.

I check the time and I’ve got another 30 minutes with which I can try to pull some more numbers. I work another girl, Lisa, but run out of time and energy. I’ve got a number and I’m happy with that. The lights come on and it’s time for me to go.

As I’m walking out to my car, my phone rings. It’s HB Target…wow, that was quick.

HB Target: “Hey. I just wanted to call and see if you made it home Ok.”
Bull Run: “Well, actually I’m just leaving. Walking to my car right now. If you want though, we can chat while I drive home that way you know I made it home safely.”
HB Target: “I have a better idea, you should come over to my place that way I know for sure you made it home Ok.”
Bull Run: “That’s a great idea. Where do you live?”

I’m at her place in 10 minutes. She’s already in her PJs…a gray tight fitting knit top and bottoms with the word ‘Love’ written across the ass. I reflect on the irony, I love booty calls…she’s got ‘love’ written across her booty. We sit down on her couch to chat and the first thing she tells me is that she’s moving to San Francisco in a week and a half. At the time, I didn’t understand the ramifications of what she was telling me. My response? That’s Ok, we should try to hang out as much as we can until you leave…sort of your last Dallas fling. She seemed to like that idea and I found myself thoroughly enjoying her company. You could say that I felt a real connection with her. Why? Maybe because it was fleeting I valued it more than I other wise should have. Regardless, we chat for a while and over the next hour and a half I actually begin to find myself less horny and more interested in her. I begin thinking to myself that I don’t really even want to have sex, I just want to spend time with her…talk till the sun comes up you know? All that cheesy bullshit. I feel my responses and interactions with her changing from the indifferent asshole that I usually am to the interested, nice guy…usually this transformation takes several dates to occur, if at all.

She had other plans. She crawls on top of me and we start making out. Then, we make our way to her bedroom. I get her naked then go down on her…I stay down there a long time because I’m really not that into this. I mean, I’m into her but for once in my life I don’t want to have sex with a naked, hot chick. So, I stay downstairs…she orgasms. Then, I make one of the biggest mistakes of my sex life:

HB Target: “That was great!” She rolls off the bed, puts her panties back on, then crawls into the other side of the bed, and lies down with her back to me. She just made it very clear that she’s not going to finish me off…
Bull Run: Instead of playing the jerk and calling her out on her shit, which is what I usually would have done. I roll over kiss her on her shoulder and say, “don’t worry about me, there will be plenty of time for that later.”
HB Target: “Good, I never do this and I don’t think I could actually have sex without getting to know you better.” Lie. Again, I didn’t call her out on it…I’m a nice guy remember?
Bull Run: “I understand, it’s no biggie. We can pick up where we left off the next time I see you.” Lie. I’m still the nice guy and it’s normal for nice guys to have their desires crushed by manipulative, lying women.
HB Target: “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.” For once in a long time, I felt like the nice guy that I really am…deep, deep, deep down inside. Even if that means that I’m getting trampled on.

The next morning, which was only two hours away, I get up. Put my clothes on and HB Target walks me to the door. She kisses me goodbye and says that she had a great time last night. I tell her that I’ll call her later so we can hang out. She nods. Later that day, I called her to see what she was doing that night for dinner:

HB Target: “Hello.”
Bull Run: “Hey, do you have dinner plans? I’m exhausted, but I was thinking that I’d get some takeout and some wine. Then, we can have a picnic on your floor…pick up where we left off last night.” I’m such a sweet, thoughtful guy…
HB Target: “I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. I’m leaving in a week, I don’t know if I want to get to know you only to just have to leave.”
Bull Run: “What? I thought we decided to try and hang out as much as possible until you left. What happened?” Nice guys don’t see shit like this coming…
HB Target: “It’s just not a good idea. It seemed like a good idea last night, but it’s just not. Listen, when I called you over I didn’t expect that we’d get along like we did. I honestly just wanted a one-night stand. I think that’s how we should leave things.” Nice guy is crushed…
Bull Run: “Wow. So, this is what it feels like huh? I’ve never been on this side of this conversation before. This sucks.” Still playing the nice guy…
HB Target: Silence.
Bull Run: “Well, I guess that’s it then. I enjoyed meeting you, good luck in San Francisco.” Still playing the nice guy…
HB Target: “Thanks. Good luck to you.”
Bull Run: “Alright…bye.” Again, the nice guy…
HB Target: “Bye.”

Lesson learned. First, never be the nice guy. HB Target liked me because I had an edge to me…then I softened up like a little pathetic loser when we were getting to know each other…then I softened up even more when I didn’t try to blow through her last minute resistance to having sex with me. Nice guys get shit on, plain and simple. Not closing this deal will haunt me for a long time. Second, when you’ve got the chance to fuck a chick, always take it…never be a nice guy or you’ll get fucked…err won’t get fucked.

The fucked up thing about this whole situation was that I genuinely liked HB Target so it was easy to fall into the nice guy trap. The whole incident just sort of reinforces that you have to maintain that edge with a woman until the two of you are comfortable with each other. Until then, the nice guy has to stay buried deep, deep inside.

[Guest]

Until you have busted a nut on her face or in her mouth NO MISTER NICE GUY!

Nice FR and good lessons for the new guys here.

[Guest]

..great post...