I Close The Subway Viking

For the last few months, I’ve been putting all my energy into getting shit together in other more vital aspects of my life, thus the prolonged silence. Now that I’m a bit more comfortable, I will try to catch up with events in this blog as best as I can.

Now, this was around mid-January this year – summer in Buenos Aires – when the city is almost desolate because almost everyone is looking forward to get away from the concrete jungle and into a somewhat more awe-inspiring destination. This means that the streets are not that plentiful, often deserted even and, that fact added to the extreme heat forces one to having to be extra careful in managing vibe and logistics. Add to that a 5-to-9 (mine was a 1-to-10 pm, actually) and you’re left with the necessary task of having to create a schedule that allows you to put the consistent effort at the right time, so as to make things easier on yourself. If you’re like me and you moved recently to a new city, where you don’t have a social circle, you come to the following realisation: grinding it out on the streets when you aren’t feeling particularly inspired, yet long for female companionship is hard enough – albeit vital – so it becomes important to make sure that you structure things in a way that pretty much ensures, or maximises the odds, that you will go out to put the work more or less consistently. Just like with the gym, the best routine or “game plan” is any one that makes it sustainable in the long run because it allows for consistency. Yes, at times it basically comes down to flipping stones in search for the yes-girl. Ideal? Perhaps not… Necessary? Often. “What about the precious vibe?”, a sharp inquisitive daygamer may ask. To that I reply:  sometimes (most times, as of late) that is to be regarded as a burdensome luxury. Getting a tornado going will take care of the vibe in due time, but as we know, the stage of initiating the whirlwind is the one that takes the most effort and going against one`s feelings of complacency and inner resistance. No matter how experienced you are, there is no way around this.

With this in mind, I had to evaluate my circumstances and determine everything: from how many sets a week I should do, to how many sets per day, what routes would be best depending if I was prioritizing working toward the objective of opening as much as I could or focusing on vibe and thus exploring new parts of town, whether to do the work through sheer willpower or perhaps prioritize my “feeling it” or go out to approach only when I felt horny, and so on. The daygamer’s need to take full responsibility over his Grand Master PlanTM to get laid can sometimes be a bit overwhelming, since it is easy to get caught in endless mind labyrinths that spring up when confronted with much variability and options. The fact is that I was working full time from Tuesday to Saturday, worked half day Sundays and had Mondays off. So I figured I would do ten approaches on Sunday, between fifteen and twenty on Mondays – actually what I did on Mondays was to delineate roughly a 10 km route and just open whichever girl I felt attracted to along the way – and I would whimsically throw in some shorter sessions during the week prior to going to work, if I felt like it.

On one particular day, I was feeling intensely horny – not as in I-want-to-cum-right-now horny, but rather I was feeling like I wanted to charmingly impose my sexuality onto random girls, as it were, and damn the consequences – and my state was pretty darn good too. For some reason I woke up feeling awesome that day and I wanted to milk it for all its worth. That, we know, is just where you want to be if you are to try and hit the streets long and hard. I had closed a “big-breasted hippie” (not a hippie, really… a late-twenties lawyer who happened to be dressed in a hippieish manner and had massive jugs and who I’ll be writing about in a future post) just a few days before and this, I think, had added a boost to my confidence and overall feeling of entitlement. The session was awesome regarding my disposition and the fact that I wasn’t feeling the grind even though I had done many sets so far – fifteen or so – and I had mostly had blowouts, some even seemed an automatic pre-programmed response from the girl. It’s funny to realize that girls also play their part of the game, and sometimes they fuck up… big time. It’s just that in their case, it’s not a matter of ‘technique’ but rather social retardation. It’s just that they are caught off-guard and hold onto their sometimes fucked-up script when dealing with guys, so their instinctive response is to preventively dismiss any attempt at being picked up. Especially with guys they find attractive. It’s nothing personal, and I will try to help her out… to a point. Nothing can be done if the chaos they bring is just too insurmountable. That’s just how things are and there is no point in getting upset if the other part can’t or won’t play their part. Anyway, nothing could keep me from feeling great doing my thing on the streets and, as the session progressed, I started to feel increasingly emboldened to stretch out of my comfort zone and do things I would normally weasel out from.

I was walking past a subway entrance, when I spotted this blonde chick rushing inside, but throwing an infinitely subtle glance my way before doing so. “She fancies you”, said the ancestral hunter within. I went in without a trace of doubt in my step, just thinking: “I have to have this girl or die trying”. So I caught up with her just a few meters from the mechanical barrier which lets you in to the platform, wheeled around her assertively and in a controlled though dominant movement commanded her to stop. As I was entering her field of vision, I noticed a light and quick smirk which could be described as a concealed smile, which she quickly hid away so as not to reveal something deep and intimate. I have noticed this in many sets, at that precise same moment when the girl is “overwhelmed”. I think it is a hard-wired instinctual reaction, the true significance of which I can’t quite explain. But I’ve definitely noticed the pattern. The smirk-smile rapidly turned into a look of shock and surprise, and after clearly explaining to her that “I simply had to come down to compliment her on her feminine way of dressing and carrying herself, even at the risk of being perceived as a psycho or a burglar”, she gave me this fairy-tale huge smile and submissive eyes. She seemed to be under a spell, and so I kept weaving the web, throwing a tease here and there to balance the pull with the push.

ME: I like how incongruent is the image of you… all feminine wearing a sexy summer dress, which most girls don’t wear, but at the same time with all your hair tangled in a mess. It’s pleasant and confusing at the same time.

HER: (touching her hair, combing it with her hand and feigning indignation) Hey! So is this supposed to be a compliment? It’s windy out there, and I had to leave home in a hurry. (Smiling now) And you’re making me late, you know?

ME: I guess I’m a bad influence. You should probably run and get lost, this minute. What’s your name, by the way?”

HER: [Miss Subway Viking].

ME: You kinda look like an actress I fancied when I was a boy… only 1 point less hot.

HER: Hahaha! You’re mean!

ME: Tell me something [Miss Subway Viking]. Why do you think girls don’t wear dresses like in the good old days? There’s hardly any outfit that looks sexier on you gals.

HER: I think most women don’t know how to be women any longer. It’s very important to look lady-like at all times.

ME: Even when you’re racing to do some important mannish task. Those folders you are carrying are intriguing. Are they secret files?

HER: Yup. I can’t tell you what they are. I’d have to kill you.

ME: Well, now I’m shocked and scared. Ok, get serious now… what’s the plan?

HER: The plan? How do you mean?

ME: What were you up to when I stopped to say hi?

HER: You didn’t just ‘stop to say hi’… You ran after me! I still can’t believe it. Nobody does that nowadays. You’re afraid of nothing, are you? You’re a Viking.

ME: Actually, you look more like a Viking. With your natural blonde hair and green eyes. So what were you up to?

HER: I was heading to take these (showing me her hard paper folders) from work to another office. Boring, mundane stuff. And you?

ME: I was just walking, enjoying the day off work. And I recall having a fixed destination too, but now you led me off track. Look, I do have to keep going. But you seem cool and I do find you attractive. Would you like to go for drinks sometime?

HER: Sure. Take my number.


I took it and let her go. I was flying high when I emerged from that subway stairs. Not only what I did was ballsy. Also, I felt DNA-Tug level of attraction for this girl. She had told me she was 33, but she had this teenage freshness on her demeanor and her way of expressing herself that caught my fancy right away. Not particularly hot physically, but she had that irresistible blend of nubility, freshness and maturity which had the potential to push my buttons.

Ivy 20180813_205845
A modern-day sheviking


A few days later, I sent her a ping to which she replied within the hour. She asked me where I was, and I sent her a picture of my hotel room. She readily agreed to a coffee date for later that day. We met in Starbucks around 7 pm, and she was already there. She had arrived about fifteen minutes early. We ordered coffee and took a seat at a table by the window on the ground floor. Conversation flowed easily, as she was extremely talkative. As in too much. It got to the point where she would throw one personal question after another, and I jokingly warned her about the dangers of attempting to psychoanalyze me on our first date as it would probably make her unwittingly obsessed with me. She genially replied that obsessiveness was a natural trait in her, anyway, and that I should not consider myself to be so special just yet. The vibe was excellent and light-hearted, with mutual defiance in that playful manner that usually precedes a genuine connection and outstanding sex. But only for those who know how to increase the tension, maintain it and delay the joy, at the same time relishing the process of establishing such connection without the need to rush it, whilst seasoning the seemingly mundane chit-chat with innuendo which eventually turns into sex talk and finally that mutual desire which cannot longer be contained. But this is venue one and it’s still early. Time to calm her flutters, give comfort and make sure she’s not a whacko.

Not long after we had finished our coffees, she suggested that we could go for a beer. “If you’re not tired of listening to me talk away, that is”, she said. I ventured: “Are you trying to get me drunk?”. “Yes, so I can draw all your dark secrets out from you”, she replied. This was looking good. “Ok, there’s a place I’ve been meaning to try. You done? Grab your stuff, let’s go”. I took her to this beer garden just a few blocks away from my hotel and we sat in the patio section, side by side. We ordered our beers and the conversation picked up again easily. She did test me when she found out that the picture of my room I sent her had been taken a couple of years ago, when I visited the city for two weeks with the sole purpose of honing my daygame skills, trip in which I closed three girls in ten days (two were SDLs). Of course, this last piece of information was withheld from her – the fact that I had gone to womanize and that I was successful, too – but I did show her the pics of the trip. When that photo showed in my phone, she realized it was the same I had sent her.

HER: [With a look of consternation] Why would you send an old picture and claim it’s current? What do you have to hide?

ME: [Ever-so casually] I never said it was current… It’s just that I’m lazy and I happened to be at the same spot.

HER: Hmmm, I’m not convinced. Do you have photos prepared for every situation with chicks?

ME: Yes (that’s actually kind of true). Except for when we’re fucking. Then, it’s videos and they come afterwards.

HER: [hardly able to contain herself] I’m so into that. Are you too?

ME: You naughty, little lost girl. C’mere.


So I took her chin and went for the kiss. She was all over me, and it was me who cut it off, admonishing her for getting greedy all of a sudden. We kept conversing normally for some fifteen minutes after we finished our beers, and I decided that it was time to pull the trigger. She followed me to my hotel, holding my arm all the way there, bit me lightly on the neck before we arrived at the door and we went in. She showed the receptionist her ID, logged in the guestbook without the slightest hint of ASD and we went into the elevator and into my room. There wasn’t any resistance whatsoever and the sex was outstanding. I really like this girl and she has become part of my rotation ever since, having had displaced the Venezuelan – who is out of my life for the time being – and inspired me to demote her to a lower rank, even when the latter is objectively a full solid point higher in hotness.


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