I was playing “Love Galore” by Sza ft. Travis Scott while writing this.

I suggest you play it as well as you read this, so you can sit back and soak this story in.

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Writing about “game” and the subject of approaching women can be disheartening.

Because I write about the Best-case scenarios for a man, that often rarely occur.

It’s the gift and the curse of approaching women, and male-female interactions.

You are essentially putting yourself out there, multiple times, subjecting yourself to the opinion of the masses of women you encounter.

This game is not for the faint of heart, you will fail: early and often. It can take its toll on anyone.

However, every now and then, you get to experience wonderful moments.

Moments that you will never forget. . .that make all the failed attempts worth it.

This was one of these stories.

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. . . And I Met Her

I routinely tell close friends of mine, “The universe has a funny way of manifesting what you need in your life”.

As men, we talk so much about what the ideal woman looks like, we ponder if she even exists.

Wandering the earth, searching for our unicorn.

It was a week ago on a Sunday night, still celebrating my birthday from earlier in the month at a strip club in Charlotte.

I was at the bar downing Crown Royal Vanilla and Bud Light, reflecting on the highs and lows of the year, when she approached me.

A Black/Brazilian bombshell; she had the tiniest waist with hips that exploded back out. 8-9-Dime range, easy.

Now, being an intermediate level gamer, I find the strip club dynamic interesting, because it is the place where I get to see women run game on men.

I generally tip based on how good the attempt is: dismissing those who make weak passes, rewarding those who make a strong effort.

There was something about her aura, her vibe, that was just genuine; warm and comforting.

It was to the point where I don’t even remember what she said, and that’s often the case in moments like this.

It’s not so much what you say, but the energy that you say it with.

It’s very difficult to fake a positive ambiance, and along with kino (touch) to boot.

We sat down and chopped it for like 30 min. or so before the prospect of a dance even surfaced.

We did an ESP experiment, conversing about her being from out-of-town, coming to Charlotte to visit family, side ventures we were both pursuing, politics.

It was all so refreshing.

After the eventual dance, she beats me to the punch, asking me for my number.

Blown away by the whole exchange, I had a slightly beta male moment uttering weakly, “So you’re gonna call me right?”

She smiles and confidently states, “I’m definitely going to call you”.

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A Night to Remember

I think I waited a whole five minutes after I got off work Monday to text her.

I asked what plans she had for the evening, remembering she was from out-of-town, leaving for home the next day.

It wasn’t so much thirst, as much as it was. . . inquisitiveness.

Had I found my unicorn?

The Holy Grail I have been seeking for so long?

My Mewtwo in a world full of Magikarps (Pokémon Reference)

Ladies. . .Don’t be a Magikarp

She quickly texted me back, “I’m with my family.” A cold splash of reality hits my heart; warm feelings fleeting from my from being.

I didn’t respond. One thing I have learned from my experiences in game: Patience is a virtue.  The wrong text could have ruined everything.

Around 9-10 o clock, I get a call from her, saying she was going to Bubble on the recommendation of a bouncer who worked there (he also worked at the strip club; likely was trying to get at her too) and wanted me to accompany her.

I agreed. Drove to the ATM, ironed some clothes and headed out around twelve.

Twenty minutes later, I’m at the bar in my lime green Nautica polo, jeans and Clark dress shoes when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

There she is. . .Red heels, black leggings, black polo T with the red emblem, stopping at the midriff.

Jesus . . .

Light conversation ensues, with a steady flow of drinks to lighten the mood.

One of the things I love to observe, is how a woman conducts herself in public.

I mean here is a woman, who is easily Top 3 in the room, in another city, with no commitment to the bearded giant in the lime green shirt.

She could’ve succumb to vanity, she could have anyone in the room.

But she handles herself like a pro.

She steps away from me a couple of times, and each time she is approached by a guy. Obviously, I play it cool, because of the circumstances and from what game has taught me. I don’t seem needy; nor do I trail or follow her around.

Everyone that steps to her, she curves, “I’m here with him.”

She makes her way back to me, and from that point on it was like a moment encapsulated in time. It was our world, and everyone else was a spectator.

We began to dance, chopping it up still, having a good time.

Every girl wants to dance with her (and grab her ass).

A white girl bumps into her as if she wasn’t there; she promptly checks her, and I stare down the dude the random girl is with.

Every dude staring at her graceful figure pressed up against my sturdy frame.

Women walk by telling us we’re a beautiful couple.

One Trinidad James looking fellow with 50 chains on, takes his shirt off to get her attention. She deems it lame

You must understand what this moment meant to me. It was like, Nick Cannon becoming the cool kid in “Love Don’t Cost a Thing.”

I was never the most handsome, athletic, or popular growing up.

But I invested in myself, my brand, learned about approaching and social intelligence, and it brought me to this moment.

This moment was like the universe telling me, “the ideal woman is not just a dream, it does exist.”

At club let out, a guy walks up to me and her, and the following dialogue occurs.

Him: “Is that your woman?’

Me: “Yes, she is”

Him: “Oh ok. Cuz I like her”

Me: . . .

(my date stands there disgusted by the exchange)

We leave the club and enter a diner; we talk in a booth, me forgetting I had to be at work in a couple of hours, still not wanting to wake up from this dream.

A male Cinderella, who fairy godfather told him, “sure you rent the horse and carriage past twelve.”

We discuss how the division between African-American men and women has never been greater.

How we don’t support each other businesses (she owns her own business back home).

How she would never move to the South, where the minority is treated like an afterthought.

I sit here thinking how God crafted such a beautiful woman inside and out? The perfect blend of independence and class.

I begin my Q & A. . .

“Why did you give me your number?” I asked.

“I just loved your vibe, I knew you were a good person the moment we spoke”, she replied smiling.

I followed up, “Do you have a type?”

“A man that treats me right is my type. I was raised right and I know my worth as a woman”

I begin to pick her brain about game. . .

“I hate when I approach respectfully, and a woman just ignores me or is rude”

She bluntly states, “that simply means that’s not the woman for you.”

At this point, I’m secretly thinking about the names of our future children.

We leave from the diner, rain puddles on the street from earlier showers, with glimmering stars in the night sky.

Everything is perfect.

“I look forward to us doing this again,” she says, starring in me innocently

“Likewise,” I replied.

We kiss a couple of times, I walk her to her car, she drives me to my car, and we kiss again and go our separate ways.

Conclusion

*Sigh*

Just when I was losing all hope in our counterparts, I come across this special individual.

This my friends, is a woman.

I don’t know what the future holds, with her and I several states away, but that evening taught me a lot.

It brought to my attention the humble, classy behavior, I want my future partner to just emanate from her soul.

Someone who, no matter how attractive she is, treats me like I’m the only one in the world who exists.

Women in this era, make it seem like, a man has to jump through hurdles to get this level of attention.

I wholeheartedly disagree.

I don’t believe a person magically turns on class and respect, just because someone gives you a title or a ring.

It must be imbedded in that person’s make up.

It was a moment that taught me, I don’t have to settle.

Contrary to popular belief

They are out there gentlemen.

Weather Your Storm, Maintain Inner Reign -E