Or how not to get laid in Warsaw: a warning to my future self to not be a moron.
Wednesday 14 August was the last night of my first Polish Euro jaunt. I had one lay but, alas, no Polish flag. My last chance would be tonight: a date at 11 pm with a tanned Polish girl, after she would return from the cinema.
My two daygame mates had left, so I was sitting outside a bar on Nowy street by myself. By now it was 11:50 pm with no trace of her. My phone buzzed: “I’m a bit tired. Maybe you plan to visit another time?”. It wasn’t completely unexpected, but it still phased me because it’s the first time a girl cancelled a date with me on the say day - especially on such short notice.
What should have been my sign to go home, rest, and reflect on my trip took an extreme turn: I was going to get my Polish flag, one way or another. As I was storming, visibly agitated, along Chmielna, I saw a tall, leggy Polish girl with medium-long wavy hair and full red lips. The problem: she was covered in tattoo’s1 on her arm and shoulders. It was such a shame - deep down, under the layer of ink and nose piercings, she was an attractive girl. Now, she looked like those red-colored frogs in the Amazon, warning predators to steer clear.
“I’ll show that Polish bird for cancelling on me.” I thought, and rage-opened the tattoo girl. She loved it. She was carrying a Polish Cherry-beer and was on her way to her friend’s apartment. After a rather flirty set, we both walked to the night shop on Nowy street for more beers and cigarettes.
On our way there, before we reached the end of Chmielna, I already marked nearly all the squares on my “broken girl Bingo” card:
- Hates her father.
- “It’s so frustrating: I only get approached by brown men!”
- “I’m no longer turned on by vanilla sex.”
- “I’m on a 18-month hard drug break, but it’s not going well.”
I clearly felt, I was slamming through several of my boundaries with this girl. Yeah she was hot, but how much risk am I willing to assume for a lay? Too much apparently, as the story went on.
We were sitting on a bench and talking about sex. She confessed “my biggest fantasy is to be abducted in a van by a man wearing a black ski mask who drives me to a forest and rapes me.” Err, okay. This girl has “grotty SDL” written all over her. This would be a lay I wouldn’t document in a lay report… By then I was escalating the kino, so I just went for the kiss attempt. She rebuffed it, saying that she doesn’t like to be touched. “Hm weird, I guess I need more comfort.” I thought.
We finished our beers as she challenged me to a round of Tekken 8. It was well over 1 a.m. that that point. She took me to a game bar around the corner while downing a “Burn” energy drink along the way2. Again, my self-preservation instinct kicked in: “go home mate, it’s not worth it”. But my curiosity and desperate horniness clouded my judgement.
The only game I play is daygame. Needless to say, she kicked my ass in Tekken… and rebuffed a second kiss attempt. After the game bar we met up with her friend and her Tinder date at this awful Polish nightclub playing Polish rap. The guy was alright, we kept each other company as we went after our birds. Daygame was turning into nightgame. Not much happened really:
I got tired of the tattoo girl milking me for free attention and opened a Polish girl who as sitting outside. We chatted for a while before she followed one of her friends back into the club. By 3 a.m. the Tinder date and my tattoo bird left to go home. As we were splitting up she said “you can follow us or you can also go home if you wish”. I went home with no intention to seeing any of them again. As we were splitting up, I saw her run to her girlfriend and engaging in a conversation with heavy laughing. About me, I figured.
What a depressing story. Why do I painfully write it out? To humble and to remind myself that:
- I’m too focused on notches, especially flags.
- I disregard the “cost” of daygame: it’s infinitely exciting at the moment, and I’m willing to drive my physical and mental health into the ground for the sake of “progress”.
- I’m crossing my boundaries, in spite of clear warning signs, for the sake of chasing novelty.
- Know when to call it a day and when to fold my hand. The streets will be there tomorrow. Warsaw will still be there next year.
- Don’t pursue women that are clearly broken - even for the prospect of a crazy lay.
But then again: if I managed to close her I would likely have written a glorious lay report boasting how I captured the Polish flag in the nick of time. So I’m taking my own learning with a grain of salt.