Tonight was the third and last night out in Virginia Beach. None of the other guys wanted to go out and so I finally had the pleasure of going out alone. I felt initial resistance but then detached myself from my thoughts and emotions. I immediately thought back to when I went out alone over winter break in Meatpacking District and how it was not nearly as bad as how I imagined. Tonight would be round two.
At 11:30 after dinner, I start the night at a local bar that J told me about called Side Street Cantina. I walk in and feel significantly younger than the average crowd there. I open group and single sets left and right but nothing hooks. Ah how refreshing: the arrogance of high-end Manhattan clubs found in a low-end dive bar. I open a Russian-looking blonde chick Rebecca who hooks and gets me a glass of water but leaves when I make the conversation man-to-woman. I open a two-set sitting down and they hook. They become my “home base” for this bar are are very friendly. I walk from the bar to the dance floor and back opening all options but they result in disgusted looks or short answers followed by ignoring me or leaving. I feel a state crash but then detach myself from my thoughts and emotions once again. I’ve opened everything and decide to switch venues.
At 12:15, I walk downtown more to a more familiar spot: LunaSea. I get there and I feel the night might pick up in momentum, but then I see 4 cops standing next to the bouncer. Nope. I make my way to Peabody’s and ask strangers for directions along the way to stay in state. I learn it’s 18+ from asking strangers and go in. Then I find out it’s a $20 cover charge and go out. I walk past a popular street filled with loud clubs that are empty and not conducive to talking. I’m back to square one. I figure Calypso’s is my best bet and make my way there.
At 1:00, I enter Calypso’s and feel much more in state all of a sudden. I small talk with a chill guy who works there, self-amuse with a 2-set asking if they’re Scottish, chat with 2 grandmas about wishing my grandparents were as cool as they were, and getting called a jerk for calling a blonde chick a third wheel. It’s a dead-end venue with very old people in it or groups. I open everything telling people I’m a visitor and looking for good bars and venues. Two group sets hook but logistics aren’t ideal as they’re both leaving. Sure, I could go with, but it just feels so damn uncalibrated.
At 1:30, I go back to Side Street and open the leftovers. Nothing hooks. At 2:00, the bar closes and the third part of the night begins. I open girls and groups waiting for Ubers and make decent banter with a birthday group and a Yeezy collector. I decide to call it a night and walk back.
I pass a pizza shop and go in. The cashier is decently attractive. I ask her if they have wings and hear an Eastern European accent. I ask if she’s Russian and it turns out she’s Polish and from Warsaw. She asks why I thought she was Russian and seems hooked. I make small-talk and classically premature ejectulate because I didn’t want to disturb her working. In reality, the store was closing in 1 minute and she seemed interested. “I actually like your style. What part of Virginia Beach do you live in” would have done the trick. Then I would have walked with, built rapport, and tried to find an excuse to go to her place. But I didn’t do it because I wasn’t playing to win. I left the set early because she wasn’t begging for my dick. That’s ridiculous and unrealistic. Next time, I stay in set until I reach an explicit dead-end.
Overall, tonight showed that going out alone forces growth. I couldn’t turn to my wing for advice or to kill time. I was left with only me, myself, and I. I was my own instructor. Now, having a solid wing is ideal, but going out alone should never be ruled out. Gaming solo in MPD and tonight proved that.
- Went out solo despite preconceived notion of it being “weird”
- Opened everything
- Play to win accordingly in all parts of the night
- Don’t leave the set until you reach an explicit dead-end