I was on a D2 with a local 24 year old Russian girl I met two days earlier. On D1 she invited me to this comedy show1. After the show we went to Rock Cafe Riga. The girl clearly liked me and was touchy all evening, so it didn’t take us long to kiss. After a few make-out sessions and roll-offs in the club, I pulled the trigger and bounced her home. Done deal… ...
Today started rough. My state had crashed after two weeks alone in Stockholm. I started doubting everything: This digital nomad thing isn’t working. I’m hurting my career. I can only daygame in a city I actually live in. The mind plays tricks on you. I forgot about the last two week’s successes: opening 44 sets, collecting 7 phone numbers, going on 2 dates and 1 instant date. Not outlandish results, but something I’m proud of considering I’m trying to create something from nothing - all alone in a country I’ve never been. And work is going just fine: my client doesn’t give two shits about where I’m located. ...
Feels good to be back in Belgrade. I’m here with my former coach and another daygamer. I just came back from Galerija mall where I felt I did good work: 4 approaches with clear intent. Sadly, no numbers: two were married, and the other two rather young (both below 20). On Sunday I caught up with my Belgrade Blondie. It was an effortless date: we covertly agreed to a sex date. After a few glasses of wine on my terrace, we sealed the deal. ...
I’m sitting in the airport looking back on a crazy two weeks on the West Coast. Although I was there for a work conference, the trip was pretty eventful: I got a ride in a fire truck (with sirens) after calling 911 to save a junkie’s life. I had two idates from only five sets in total. I smoked weed with a local girl in her car (and drove my convertible rental car back shortly after to catch my flight). Alas no lays. The opportunity presented itself, though: ...
“That’s the dumbest question someone ever asked me”, she said coldly, putting her book down and giving me a stern look. I left her reading on the park bench in Kalemegdan and staggered back to my wing, tail between my legs. “Fuck me. A great start of another Belgrade daygame session”, I thought. Even though the session started badly, a few good sets1 soon lifted my spirits. My vibe culminated when a Serbian grandpa came up to me to shake my hand and congratulate me on opening a Serbian girl right in front of his nose. “Bravo!” he said. ...