mASF post by "Canes"
posted on: mASF forum: Field Reports Discussion, August 8, 2005(Still on my ASF hiatus, just some FR's...your comments three months from now
won't be very helpful if I keep silent, will they?)
Warning: No major breakthroughs or any of that shit in this post. All drunk
stuff. Analyze if you want, but it's like analyzing a stupid animal.
----
So my best bud since childhood came in from UW-Madison to join me and my
cronies in Milwaukee on my birthday in June, and I knew beforehand that I was
going to play up the "birthday boy" theme like nuts. Unfortunately, most of
this field report has little information and to learn from, and will consist
mostly just points to myself that I should already know--basic stuff like not
facing them right away, not being a fucking tard, etc. I had some vanilla rum
my boy P-Diddy (a joke, he's AFC) bought me before going out...in retrospect, I
could have done a little better being less drunk. But it was my birthday and
approach anxiety was at a minimum thanks to that. Still, SARGE SOBER, or at
the very least, ON THE SOBER SIDE.
As we're driving down there, my alpha roommate and his gf (HB8photo) go in the
front seat of my car because I'm already drunk. I'm yelling things at women
out the window: "Hey! It's my birthday!" I actually almost carried a
conversation with one, because I had responses already pre-programmed because
I've done them so many times online and in my head. Some girls flashed us and
I got mad because I missed it. I'm doing things like asking random girls to
marry me, FROM my car. Alpha roommate seems to enjoy it.
As we walk to the first bar, my buddy from Madison is like "Hey, just make sure
you don't get beat up." I was probably being a bigger jackass than I thought.
Oh well...I don't know about your locations, but here, I haven't seen that many
fucking tough guys at all.
We roll into the first bar, I have a shot, and the night begins. For the most
part at first, it's me hanging out with my buddies, and some new guys that met
up with us that know my Madison friend. Two really hot waitresses come by our
table, and they're touching me because I'm the birthday boy and probably look
sickly drunk. "Happy birthday, kino kino, happy birthday." But here's the
lowpoint of my night, which my Madison buddy later found hilarious:
HBfirstwaitress: (Being a polite waitress...poor girl) So how is your birthday
going so far?
Canes: It will be good once you leave.
She and her hot waitress friend girlcode each other, if you wanna call it
girlcoding. Definitely checking each other like "did he just say that?"
Energy got VERY cold.
Canes: You're hanging around me like a vulture. (I got that from
Goodfellas...I was DRUNK and this shit was so gay it still bothered me)
But they didn't go away. WTF?
I started just approaching people left and right, being an ass who thinks he's
being sociable by shaking EVERYONE's hand and saying "have a good time, have a
good time." My cronies dare me to approach a two-set and say "Hey, it's my
birthday, wanna buy me a shot?" So, I roll right up to them, facing them
(argg) and go:
Canes: Hey it's my birthday wanna buy me a shot? (literally like I typed it)
HBlameass: I don't *think* so...
Lameass. Who comes to the bar on Friday night to be BORED and talk to your
same friends you talk to all the time? Validation whores, that's who. I
haven't been a big frequenter of bars, but here's what I learned about them:
-There are two categories of people: Drunk fun-ass people, and uptight HBs
with sticks up their asses. And fags. That makes three.
-Everyone stays in their same group. Fucking gay. Aren't bars for
socializing?
I'm generalizing because I've only been to about three. Haha. (note: I've
been to more, better bars since then)
On the street, between bars, some of HB8photo's friends see her, and she's all
clubcrackwhore like "OMG HEY GUYS!!!" and hugging them. I get a group hug with
like 3 of them, using the birthday excuse. Really, all of this shit was
worthless drunk stuff, but being drunk DOES at least let you know how to act
when sober. Who cares? Have a group hug. It's fun.
We change scenery to another bar, and an even hotter waitress (solid HB9 in
Milwaukee) is giving me the same "happy birthday, touch touch, happy birthday,"
kino, and I FUCKING USE GAY COCKY FUNNY SHIT. I just say "She wants me..."
All I had to do was push/fucking/pull. "You're cool, wait a second..."
Anyways, I fuck it up. She's turned off and I don't see her again.
Oh the fuck well. Roll up to the counter, talk to a random guy who wants to
give me some drink that tastes like fire, then his girl HB6 starts touching me
and I make her kiss me twice on my cheek, a "birthday" kiss. I ask for the
lips but don't get it, of course. Probably because her boyfriend was right
there. That's gay. HB8photo is next to me, she kisses me on the cheek. Boom!
An idea is born. This drunk bastard has a lightbulb over his head. BIRTHDAY
KISS TIME!!!!
I proceed to demand it of all the women I encounter. The only ones who turn me
down, I think, are girls with boyfriends, and most actually do kiss me, on the
cheek. Some girls on their cell phones, talking to their BFs, only kiss their
hand and put it to my cheek. What. The fuck. By now the night's pretty
fucked up, I'm talking to bouncers, people playing pool, walking into glass
doors. I walk into a different bar by myself, ask for a free drink, and get it
because it's my birthday. I talk to a few HBs, but I barely remember the
conversations. I'd get the kiss, say "you're great," and then move on. Why
the fuck was I moving on? They just KISSED me. Wtf.
Some girl, at some point (I don't know when) told me to go away. Ouch. Gosh,
guys, it really hurts when a cold prude rejects you. Ouch!
Eventually I settle at one of the bars, and a hot bartender says me and my
cronies should hang out the next day, but ... whatever. I don't believe the
business IOI, although my (more sober) friends say she was into me. I wish I
could remember her BL more clearly. She was warm and friendly at least.
Something about my birthday drunkeness was cute. ASSUME ATTRACTION EVEN WHEN
DRUNK, haha.
One bouncer said I "made his night" when I ran into the glass door, but I
barely remember it. I probably replied with stupid shit like "Thanks man, have
a great night," shaking his hand like five times. I was pretty gone. I get
some more kisses on the street, from a girl in her car, and we call it a night.
I'm pissed at our apartment afterwards because I fucked up the conversations
with the HBwaitresses. I pretty much pass out, wake up the next day and thank
my lucky stars that I am who I am. Canes rules.
Lessons learned/need to be re-iterated:
-Do this shit SOBER!
-Cocky/funny when they touch you better be SOLID, not gay-ass. Goes for all
CF. One fucking line. "Hands off the merchandise."
-Approach facing AWAY, asshole.
-Hot women get into me quickly.
-I need to memorize high octane chick crack material for these environments. I
wasn't even in any clubs. Gotta be prepared.
-Stay in a set, stay in a set, stay in a set. All of my "sets" were like a
minute. Sure they were kiss-closes, but the weakest kiss-closes EVER. For my
22nd birthday, I'd better make out with as many girls as I had cute little
cheek-kisses on my 21st.
-Again, do this shit sober! My game was NOT upped by the approaches I did, I'm
sure.
-Assume attraction. Not really application to this FR, but it's a great rule.
Later gators,
Canes
----
There is nothing impossible to him who will try. - Alexander the Great
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