SPAIN: LESSONS (PART 8)

I wouldn’t believe you if you told me – after my recent tame experiences in Italy and Venezuela – that I would be thrown deep in the game every day for two weeks. But that’s what happened. Spain was like a boot camp of game.

By the time I left Madrid for Seville, I was mobile but still in bad shape. I was completely congested and started to develop a dry, unproductive cough. My voice, the keystone of my magic, was completely shot. As a man I was borderline useless.

Seville’s residents have been described as the most beautiful in all of Spain. I observed the women of Seville closely for four days, and, frankly, they are quite chunky monkey. Unless September happened to be fat overhang month, look to other Spanish cities for better quality. I think the fatness could be due to the cheap 2-3 euro tapas that put U.S. Spanish restaurants like Jaleo to absolute shame. (In Granada, the tapas actually come free with your two euro drink.)

It was in Seville where things started coming together.

Lesson #1: If you think you are getting a vibe, you are getting a vibe.

When I walked into the Oasis Hostel in Seville looking for a room, a 5’10, thin German 23 year-old girl named Vicky was helpful to me (think runway model without an eating disorder). That’s it — just helpful. At the time I wanted to think she was giving me a vibe, but I concluded that she was just a nice person.

The hostel had a communal dinner the next night and she stood next to me until I started a conversation. When it comes to girls there are no such things as coincidences; they are subtle creatures, opposite of the man’s obvious “I want to fuck you, seriously” style of seduction. They reward men who have enough social intelligence to pick up on these subtle signs, and unless desperate, will only give you one or two chances to do something about it.

As I would find out six hours later, Vicky was indeed giving me a vibe. I’ve come to learn that German girls compete very well with other women of the world. Plus their accents are tough to beat.

Lesson #2: Language is everything.

Without language, you just can’t establish that emotional connection. This is why I let myself stay in the comfort zone of English-speaking hostel girls than trying to grind it out and play a numbers game with natives. Language is like the screwdriver in your toolbox — a toolbox that only contains four other tools. A big chunk of your game relies on the ability to talk and have it mean something to the girl your talking to. Every girl I met in Spain who meant something to me was fluent in English.

Lesson #3: If someone asks if you are God, say yes.

After Vicky I met Hannah, an 18 year-old English girl who attends Oxford. She is the typical cute girl-next-door but with a very nice body. Rumor around the hostel was that she had a boyfriend, but she never told me so I could only interpret her omission as a green light. My cough was getting worse but she didn’t care and neither did I. I put in six hours of work that first night but she still wasn’t ready to be kissed.

Instead, she washed my face. Yes, my face. It was the most genuine moment of the trip. We were in the bathroom, she accused me of having “bad intentions,” and next thing I know she was scrubbing my greasy t-zone. It’s hard to resist a girl who shows a willingness to take care of you (unless, of course, she’s ugly).

The next morning she gently woke me up like only a girl knows how and asked if I wanted to go to the beach. If a cute girl asks you if you want to go to the beach with her, you say yes. Don’t make the same mistake that Dan Aykroyd made in Ghostbusters.

I liked this girl a lot, but I liked the other girls a lot too. These are the times I feel pity for guys who have crushes and obsess over just one girl for months or even years. There is just too much quality out there in the world to have an obsession. And every new girl you meet sort of just replaces the previous one, even though the previous one was awesome in her own way (and maybe even better). For some guys, the rush of meeting someone new is more addicting than the comfort from something stable and long-term.

I spent another twelve hours with Hannah, including time in the water playing around, away from everyone else. On the beach she wore a serong that covered everything below her waist. I would patiently wait for a gentle breeze to lift it up just enough to show a little skin. Fantasizing about nudity, I decided, is more erotic than nudity itself.

Eventually I realized Hannah was like a pot of water you could only heat on low. She invited me to travel with her and her girlfriend to Cadiz, but it would completely change my plans. I had to say no. Should I have gone? Was I on the verge of breaking her down? You always hear of girls having a window of opportunity, a time where you must take advantage of her attraction for you. Well, guys have it too.

Lesson #4: Cockblocking is a chronic illness that can only be managed, not cured.

No one has any respect for a man trying to get laid. Especially not the girlfriend who can’t walk home alone. Or the other girlfriend who is having a bad day and needs emotional support at four in the morning. Or the drunk Aussies who are acting stupid and ruining it for everyone. Or the hostel guy won’t let you take a guest inside. Or the other hostel guy who won’t let you make out with your girl in the lobby. Or the drunk guy friend who rather die than see you get with his crush. Or the Canadian guy who stands right next to you and your girl in his lame “I Like Girls Who Like Girls” t-shirt when you are ready make a move. Or the club that closes when you finally get the girl alone. It just wouldn’t stop.

But you know what, I will never get upset at cockblocking again because it’s a part of life, something I can’t control, like my slowly emerging back hair. Just ride it out like a wave. The more you worry about it, the worse your mood gets.

Lesson #5: It’s all attitude.

After Seville I went to Granada for two nights. The dry cough got worse: each coughing fit would end with me gagging and wiping tears from my eyes. I also contracted bacterial conjunctivitis and had to take off my contacts. Since I didn’t bring my glasses, I could not make out faces unless they were two feet away from me. In other words, I couldn’t see anything. I experienced the Alhambra, Spain’s most popular attraction, through the eyes of a legally blind man.

Even though I wasn’t even in condition to pick up a whore in a whorehouse, the game pulled me aside and asked me to make one final show.

Her name was Helen. She is a 19 year-old student from England. I swear I didn’t try to meet her but she sat at my table with her friends while I was having a cappuccino. She said two things which meant that, at the minimum, I would be sucking face tonight:

1. “You are the first American I have really met.” Everyone loves firsts!

2. “I really like Johnny Depp.” I look nothing like Johnny Depp and have nothing in common with him, but girls who like Johnny Depp also like me. I don’t ask questions.

Spain took away everything I thought was important to meet girls. My voice was shot, my eyes were leaking thick, green mucous, and I couldn’t get out a long sentence without coughing. I looked and felt like shit. I was a beaten man. But I was still getting with quality girls that I dream of meeting here. How is that possible? How can I be at only 50% health but still succeed? Why would a girl want to kiss a guy who sounded like he was about to hack up a small, furry animal? Why did it keep working again and again regardless of how bad my condition got?

It has always been right in front of my face.

The game is not your clothes, it is not your money or your car, it is not you cologne, it is not your lines or routines, it is not your hair, it is not your wingman, it is not your guitar, it is not your voice, it is not muscles, it is not your job, and it is not your liquid courage. It is everything inside in your head: your intelligence, your life experiences, your desire, your drive, your self-respect, your beliefs, and your confidence. Your success as a man is already determined every morning before you even walk out the door. As long as you’ve put in your dues, there is no need to do, just be.

Spain Table of Contents

Part 1: The Terminal
Part 2: Red Lights
Part 3: Hostel Game
Part 4: Soy Americano
Part 5: La Tomatina
Part 6: Unsustainable Tourism
Part 7: Doner Kebab
Part 8: Lessons
Part 9: The Chart
Part 10: Fin

14 thoughts on “SPAIN: LESSONS (PART 8)

  1. Taylor

    while i was scamming for guys and not girls whilst in spain, i will say that the game treated me very well in madrid. i was so exhausted from staying out sooo late every night that i kept it quite tame in seville (plus i was there on monday and tuesday nights).

    loved madrid … can’t wait to get back. and seville was beautiful and historic.

  2. Barzelay

    Seems insane that a nineteen year-old from England could have gone this long without meeting an American. I’ve met bunches of Brits in my life, and there are a ton more of us than there are of them. Is it possible that she’d already pegged you as someone she wanted, and was just feeding you that line as an invitation?

  3. hedonistic

    Smart, worthy girls – – i.e., the ones you WANT – – see right past the surface shit to the core, anyway.

    Also: Many women like to play mother sick dudes. DCB, many of the women you met in Madrid probably found your vulnerability kind of touching. Sort of blows the theory about women going for the cocky alpha males, eh?

  4. brown cow

    I can’t believe you wear contacts and didn’t bring glasses with you on your trip. Talk about unprepared.

  5. Mark Foley

    Do the boys errrrrrrrrr young people get along well with older gentlemen???????? I like this madrid…Hey DCB lets IM each other..something I wanna share with you…

  6. Anonymous

    I also know that plenty of “quality” girls from many different countries who will bang just about anyone when they’re on vacation. The “you’re in another zip code and it doesn’t count” rules definitely apply worldwide.

  7. nomad

    “The game is not your clothes, it is not your money or your car, it is not you cologne, it is not your lines or routines, it is not your hair, it is not your wingman, it is not your guitar, it is not your voice, it is not muscles, it is not your job, and it is not your liquid courage. It is everything inside in your head: your intelligence, your life experiences, your desire, your drive, your self-respect, your beliefs, and your confidence. Your success as a man is already determined every morning before you even walk out the door. As long as you?ve put in your dues, there is no need to do, just be. ”

    Well done mate,being reading your site for years since rooshlog.. and you’ve finally summed it up perfectly.Since I am european myself, I am particularly glad that you found that conclusion in Europe aswell !

  8. A Chick

    “Many women like to play mother sick dudes. DCB, many of the women you met in Madrid probably found your vulnerability kind of touching. Sort of blows the theory about women going for the cocky alpha males, eh?”

    I disagree. DCB could add a shine-free T-zone, puss-free eyes and being able to have a conversation without hacking to the first list in the last paragraph. Game/alpha-ness doesn’t go away as soon as a cold virus moves in.

    Plus, even though some women, myself included, like to “play mother to sick dudes” that doesn’t mean we want a sickly guy all of the time.

  9. Roissy

    “It is everything inside in your head:…”

    i call semi-horseshit. no matter how tight his inner game or how solid his frame no 70 year old man without fame, a cult of brainwashed followers, or a billion dollars in backup is gonna score a ripe 25 year old chick.

  10. Pingback: Big Head Rob » Blog Archive » Of Back Hair, Tight Underwear and Meat

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