Slim pickings.
I hit on the one chick there that's my type not currently talking close and confidential to a dude.
She's busy getting her head gassed up by one of those faux-tographers that go around downtown and take pictures to put up for vacuous, worthless, superficial charades of people that go on the next morning to find their picture at *insert club-hallway-bar-name-here*.
The weather and the recession have thinned out the general pickings each nightly jaunt out.
Made some other passes at girls the other night the previous night out this weekend.
As it is, you can only try, try, and try again.
This is what the PUA blogs/boot camps and seminars don't tell you.
That sometimes.
It's a famine.
Period.
Ebb and flow, high tide to low tide.
Feast or famine.
Getting dressed and heading out to look for a mildly favorable venue to start a conversation....the one factor you can't control or sway through various verbal/nonverbal cues: If/when girls will be there.
But then...we only appreciate the feasts if we've been hungry recently.
If you've dated and run around, you know that once you start up with and maintain 2-4 girls on a semi-regular basis, you'll be willing to cut one or two out over things you'd normally put up with a thousand times worse over if you've got no options at all anywhere on the side.
Perspective is reality and such.
"I'm trying....to be heroic....in an age of modernity."
- Bloc Party
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