There is no better place to observe horny, international 20-somethings than the European hostel. It serves as a museum of personality, culture, and game. You are bound to meet people you hate, people you love, and people that remind you a bit too much like yourself.
In Barcelona I stayed in a dorm room of twenty people, the biggest my hostel had to offer. If hot girls are a fixed percentage of the population, my theory was to work with a larger population. This theory sort of worked but not with girls — with Australians.
The Australian culture unofficially dictates that you travel after graduation for at least three months, and Spain was on all their lists. “It’s so expensive to get up here that we just end up staying a while.” They are a little more adventurous and a little more loud than we are, but otherwise they?re very similar. If we adopted them as the 51st state, they would be like a more liberal Oregon or Washington.
The dorm room opened the door to hostel game. So far in life I have experience with bar game, club game, coffeeshop game, airplane game, red cup party game, street game, subway game, and crack house game. Differences in their execution must be appreciated and understood, lest you want to be arrested. For example, grinding on a girl on the Metro during rush-hour is a bad idea. In hostels you have ample time to game if you can work through the “competition,” distractions, and logistical difficulty inherent in the environment. In other words, it’s a great place to meet girls but a horrible place to close.
Let’s examine how hostel game works with a case study. We?ll use Sidney, a 19 year old from Belgium who only speaks French. Gymnast thin with long, brown hair, blue eyes, and pouty lips, she was easily the hottest girl in the 200-bed hostel.
You are a generic international guy with minimum game. You see Sidney and dream of making babies with her. What do you do?
You blow it.
These guys attacked early without thinking, letting their infatuation with a beautiful face destroy any careful thought they might have had in their head. They wanted to be the first guy to talk to her, the first guy to offer her a drink, and the first guy to go out to the club with her. Instead of sitting back and letting things happen naturally, they poured it on too quick, giving her little choice but to gently back away.
If you are a cool guy staying at a hostel, you want the girls to interact with the younger, inexperienced guys. You want her to create a ranking of every guy in the room and compare you to the others. After making a quick impression, your ranking rises with every guy she talks to while you do absolutely nothing — a game that is no game. You sit, patiently, like a cat about to attack a fake bird on a string, waiting for her to tire with the nonsense being thrown at her. Then you strike and put in very minimal effort to get what the others tried so hard for. Less is more.
I looked good not necessarily because I was awesome and introduced top-notch experimental game that made girls wet on demand, but because I didn?t say anything stupid or do anything desperate. I just had to roll out of bed, wipe the gunk out of my eyes, wait for everyone to fail, and then make an appearance. I was the cleaner: I cleaned up other guys? mistakes.
The hostel formula is to pre-drink in the room until it?s time to go out after 1am. Things get started much later in Spain; guestlists stay open until 2am and the hotter clubs don?t get going until three. Arrive at a club before twelve and there?s a good chance it won?t even be open.
Sidney and her friend were writing in their diaries while the Australians and I drank to another U.S. invasion. The Australians kept asking me if I had information on the Belgian girls and I truthfully told them I didn?t. They sent the drunkest one to talk to them and he came back thirty minutes later with a huge grin on his face, announcing that they are coming out with the group.
The hostel staff directed us to Moog, a house club five minutes away. The club had a modest cover charge and two of the Australians paid for the Belgians. Before cleaning, I wanted to explore the space. The club is small but it takes its house music seriously, evidenced by the lack of female vocals in songs (no cheesy classics here). Upstairs was the oldies room. The room was so small that many men were forced to touch and grab each other while dancing.
I grabbed my mop and went downstairs where I ran into the Australian guys.
“Where are the Belgians?” I asked.
“Oh they don?t speak much English so we can?t really do anything.”
Eventually I found the Belgians on the dance floor with drinks bought by the Australians. When you?re unable to communicate with a girl, your best bet is to take her to a loud club where talking isn?t important anyway, where there will be no awkward silences because you happened to have nothing to say. I find that alcohol and dancing are just good enough to establish a physical connection for the night. She won?t fall in love with you but there?s a good chance she?ll want to have sex with you. This is how I got action in my younger years.
I found Sidney, hooked her friend up with some random guy, and danced like I never danced before, until we were both soaked in sweat and other juices (orange juice in particular). The Australians could only look on in disgust. While the logistics of us both staying in a 20-person room made private time difficult, no other night in Spain would compare to this one. Once you go young…