So, I have a few projects on the go right now. You have to when you have a wife like mine.
One of them is a friend of Michelle’s. A Brit by the name of EJ. She’s kind of annoying in that uniquely British way, but awesome ass (that’s where I’m heading!!). I’ve had her on the back burner for a few weeks, and I got things on the road last Friday. She’s a bit older (35ish?) than I’d usually go for, and married, which makes her a tougher nut to crack. Crack, she inevitably has though. I know women. At first she was all, “What?? I’m married!! You’re married!!”, like she was so shocked and horrified. Haha. That only makes it more fun, right? A few messages and evening encounters later, she’s purring.
So, this is how I did it.
First, I kept under the radar, nice guy, Michelle’s husband. Then one night we went out for dinner with a group of expats, including Michelle, and EJ’s husband, Don. I sat myself opposite EJ, and when the evening began to spin out, I went in with the footsie. Then the shoes-off footsie. That’s when she did her cute, “oh no, how dare you?!” face, and I knew there were fun times ahead.
Now of course, I couldn’t own that sort of behaviour. That would make me a low-life, right? A player. And the only way to play (unless you’re paying for it, which, let’s get real, there’s rarely a need for that anymore with Tinder, etc) is if they think you’re not a player. Am I right?? So I turned on the apologies, and the charm, like I juuust couldn’t help myself in the face of such a divine being as her.
Then a little while later, I went to a ridiculous Halloween Ebola fundraising party that she organised with some expat women’s organization (god, they have so many! and so many damn facebook groups that they all constantly talk about, where they occupy themselves with dumbass nonsense; grow the f up, Ladies!). It was a costume party, so I wore a costume that I knew would get the girls going. It’s my squash butt. Works every time. More importantly though, I knew Don wouldn’t be there. That dude travels a lot. I’d like to read his “travel” blog!! Hahaha. What’s that guy reviewing on TripAdvisor?! Whoop-whoop! I also knew that Michelle would end up falling on her ass, and have to be taken home by Xi (my driver).
So, my next intervention was offering support, and then Krug. A cheaper bottle will work, guys, but my advice is to go for the best you can afford, especially with the tough nuts. The tougher the nut, the more expensive the bottle. That’s what my dad used to say. But he was talking about beer. To wash down the chicken tenders. Go, Dad. Let’s just say that I didn’t get all of my hook-up techniques from him.
Then I took her to a secret place that I had scoped out before for similar projects, with a killer view of the city. Views are cool because they communicate a subliminal message about infinite possibilities. While we were up on the roof terrace, I gave her lots of compliments about her stupid party, and next I ambushed her with sob stories from my marriage. This, of course, made her bring some of her own, and I was careful not to diss Don (player alert! never diss the competition), no matter what she said, while still being majorly supportive of her perspective.
Michelle called me at a moment that should’ve been the pivotal turning point, but I made it into a win anyway by remembering that it’s always best to leave them wanting more. So on the way to the car, knowing that I had a brief window of minutes before Xi magically appeared (he does that!! so weird!), I gave her a few more compliments, and then landed my piece de resistance. I told her I’d wanted to kiss her all night, but I hadn’t wanted to make her feel uncomfortable. And you know what I got back? A big ole purrrrrrrr. Not audible to the un-practiced ear, but deafening to mine.
So that, gentlemen, is how it’s done. Watch this space.