Trouble Pulling The Trigger For The Number

Sadly, that is how I have to begin this blog. On Friday, I went out with my primary wing and a new guy we started rolling with. The venue was great. Classy, hip, and well-heeled crowd.  I will definitely be going there again.

The first set I approached involved some dumb question opener. They weren’t hot, but we ended up talking to them anyways. The one I was talking to was kind of cute, and was qualifying herself, so I used a yes-ladder and got the number. We exchanged a couple little joke texts right there. Solid number, did some texting later in the night. Will try to set something up this week. Cool.

Next set was a set that looked intimidating from afar, but up close they weren’t as hot and bitchy as they initially appeared. It hooked well, my guy came in to wing me. Girl I spoke to was into it. It was fairly obvious. At one point, the convo expanded to the four of us and I started to address the friend, but the girl I was talking to interrupted to get my attention back on her. I didn’t escalate beyond some stupid perfunctory touch, and this eventually led her to go foul and yank her friend away. Late, once it was clear she was going to end it, I thought I needed to ask for the number, but it was too late. She tried to avoid me the rest of the night in goofy fashion.

I didn’t go for it because I still kind of held this idea in my head that they were the bitchy hot girls I thought they were when I first saw them. But the girl wasn’t quite that hot, and was giving me clear IOIs. I felt like an idiot immediately and have been kicking myself for it all weekend.

Then the following happened.

I showed up to tonight’s venue before the dudes I am meeting. The first set I approach, I deployed one of these types of openers. Set hooks immediately. She’s asking questions, and thereby exhibiting some degree of interest. Good conversation–nothing spectacular, but decent. We had stuff in common, she seemed to think I was fairly interesting. Her friend arrives, I let them chat a bit, ask her a perfunctory question, and then resume convo with the original target. Two other friends come over, a guy and a girl. I greet them, they’re friendly enough.

At this point, in my head, I realize it’d be easier, instead of dealing with a set that just turned from 1-on-1 to a mixed set, to say some combo of “gonna find my friends” and “let’s grab a drink sometime/exchange numbers” (in deep retrospect, the ideal thing would have been something like “hey, I’m going to go find my friends–but you turned out to be more interesting than I expected, so let’s get a drink sometime”). But I didn’t act on that thought, and she started chatting a bit with her friends, who were going to go have a smoke. I thought she’d stay, to be honest, but she went with the friends, and there were some parts of their dialogue that made it seem like the dynamic was that her friends expected her to stay and talk to me and she wanted them to take her with them. Perhaps, however, that was because of my hesitance.

Either way, I should have acted on my good instincts to ask for the number and bounce. Given that I had been down on myself Saturday and Sunday for not going for the second number on Friday, I should have been primed for it, and just asking would have felt like a relief (I choose that word quite deliberately).

I think I didn’t for two primary reasons:

  1. It did occur to me that I’d be doing it in front of all her friends, and that gave me some degree of pause.
  2. I was both tired and a little high, and this made me sluggish and kind of lazy. I just kind of stared off a bit while I realized I should interject, get the number, and bounce. What I should have done was acted as soon as I recognized the thought.

I am quite pissed at myself. Not only did I make the same mistake in the same weekend, but I liked the second girl better than the first. It could have been a picturesque pickup too.

What I will do from here:

  1. First of all, I am asking at least 5 girls for their number this week.
  2. Secondly, I am going to game sober all 3 nights I go out this week.

The second point makes it sound like I normally rely on weed or alcohol as a crutch. I wouldn’t say I do; I go out stone sober about a third of the time, and when I do drink, I typically just have one. As far as weed goes, I normally get a little weed buzz that wears off after 20-30 minutes anyways–today I felt genuinely high. The effect must have been exacerbated by my tiredness and the fact that I am cutting. This incident shows me the importance of being on top of my shit and taking advantage of my brains (my primary asset in this endeavor).

W/r/t point 1: I don’t care what the interactions are like or whether I think I’ll get it or not. That is what I am doing. I’m not going out to practice anything else. I am going out to start conversations which I drive towards attempted number closes for the sake of attempted number closes. I expect to hear “no”. Fuck, I invite “no” so that I can familiarize myself with it.  I want to sit with it by the fire and make it my dear friend.

I should probably give myself more credit on a couple points. I set 2 or 3 nightly goals, and on Friday I hit all my goals. They were to remember to maintain good tonality, volume, and eye contact; to talk past the opener for at least 30 seconds or until I get definitively rejected; and to use the first two steps of the verbal stack I am compiling on every set. Okay, I didn’t really do goals 2 and 3 on the first set, for which I was initially obnoxiously non-nonchalant, but that was just supposed to be a Sacrifice of the Lamb anyways, and I did it on every subsequent set. Anyways, since I have been so focused on getting solid at opening and hooking, I should be happy–I didn’t expect the second two set on Friday to hook, but it did. I went out just trying to open and hook like Todd; being pissed about being unassertive and not going for the number is kind of like moving the goalposts on myself.

The right thing to do is to cut myself a break and be happy that I did well on the thing I tried to practice. It’s pretty well-established that with learning anything–but especially something as emotionally fraught as this–one is best served from a psychological perspective by stringing together small wins. That’s what builds the receptiveness and motivation that ultimately buttress success.

I don’t know if I can give myself as much of a break for this last set, the one which prompted this post. I mean, I really should have been more on top of my shit. I will say, I guess, that I deserve credit for even showing up. I was tired, and I had to rush over to the place, since I had been visiting my parents. I thought about bailing, but I wanted to push myself.

I don’t have a lot of patience for my own mistakes. I hate myself for making mistakes. I make too fucking many of them, with just too much consistency. The name of this blog means “Patience & Process” in Urdu and Farsi (it could also be translated as “Patience & Action”, which would certainly be just as applicable). I named it such because I need to work on those things. Me falta them. So here’s a good opportunity to exercise patience with myself and with what it takes to learn this, and also to practice following a process to fix a sticking point.

 

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