YOU ARE NOT A PICK UP ARTIST!

I've been in the pick up arts for about 2 complete years now. It errrks me when I see some guy who's seen the show and maybe read the back of The Game, and say he's a pick up artist and rather fail completely every time he comes into proximity with a woman. You have to be good at what you do to actually say that you do do something.

It's like someone who can't play guitar yet tells everyone he's a guitarist. It's fucking moronic.

-Trig

Kayla's Story

(The Freezer Aisle)

March 30, 2010.
The minute I passed the freezer aisle I caught a glimpse of her. I thought about it. I thought about it. But, then realized that I really should stop thinking it. I grabbed my bread, Country Milk White, walked back to the freezer aisle.

I thought about openers real quick. I was definitely going direct, because I’m so far beyond thinking about universal arguments that can be pried open as an indirect opener. The freezer door closed in on her body as she stretched out trying to grab a tv dinner from the back of the frozen shelves. I took it upon myself to withhold opening, and instead just opened the door slightly as for it not to crush her.

“Thank you,” she said. She threw the box in her carryon cart, and started to leave.
“Hey, hold on!” I said my eyes staring at her, “You have this really adorable down to Earth type of thing going on,” I said rather quickly.
“What?”
“You’re really pretty.”

Her eyes lit beautifully with contentment, “Oh thanks!” she tried willingly to pull some type of recognition remark but only just jumbled around several different words.

“Yeah, you sorta have a really down to Earth look, you’re not from around here right?”
She laughed as if I caught her spot on, “Yeah, I’m actually from South Dakota. I just moved down here, I really haven’t met any Midwestern people.”
“Midwestern people?” I said kind of confused, “You mean. . . California?” San Francisco maybe obviously.
“Oh nevermind,” she replied.
“So you’re from South Dakota, my sister’s actually from there. Well. Actually, my sister doesn’t live there, she, her, brother in law, I mean her husband, my brother in law…” I really should talk to people on a daily basis, “… lives there.”
“Oh cool!” she replied.
“Yeah, from what I heard it must be incredibly boring.”
“Well it is, I had to get out of there.”
“Cool, so what brings you to San Francisco?”
“Oh, school.”
“San Francisco State?”
“Yep!”
“Oh, that must be terrible!”
She gave out a large sigh, “… it is.”
“Yeah, there’s no academics, there’s no sports, there’s no sexy jocky guys.”
“… I know, I know,” she replied.
“So let me guess, you’re a Gemini,” I said pivotally, “… or a Capricorn or Scorpio.”
“Nope!” she said satisfyingly, “I’m a libra!”
“Oh so that means you’re easy going, which probably explains the TV dinners.” She laughed. “And you’re indecisive which means…” I fingered through her cardboard packaged meals, “you chose chicken,” I said pointing out the bottom box, “And beef!” I said pointing out the beef box.
Her head flailed back as she laughed.

“Are we done with the freezer aisle,” I asked.
“Yep!” she replied.
“You want to come with me to the jam aisle!”
Her lips hesitated for a moment, even though her body started walking with me. “Sure,” she replied.

“So I didn’t get your name,” I asked, “I’m Jonathan.” It’s different with slightly shyer girls. You kind of have to just lead the conversation comfortably, unlike HBs with bitch shields where everything has to be disarmed, regulated, and pushed forward aggressively.
“Oh it’s Kayla,”
“Oh really,” I said giving a defeated sigh.
“Why you don’t like the name Kayla?”
“It’s a cool name, it’s just my niece is named Kayla,” I replied.
“Oh,” she replied.
“Like there was this time last year where I was dating someone from work named Kayla and it was just really really weird.”
“Oh,” she replied listening to me attentively.

I really shouldn’t mention other girls names even if it’s the easiest way to fill up gaps in conversations and supposedly show that I do have a love life. It just puts off women.

We passed by the produce area as the smell of sharp gutted fish and ripped scales covered the area. “Wow, this place smells terrible,” she said.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it was you!” I said jokingly. Aww the amazing product of charming sarcasm; just beautiful. “Where’s the Jam aisle,” I said to myself but outloud so that Kayla could hear.

We turned into an aisle to get away from the fishy fish smell. “So what are majoring in over at SF state,” I asked her.
“Oh Political Science,” she replied.
“So you like arguing with people,” again; the beautiful ends of charming sarcasm.

We finally got to the jam aisle where I pretended to forget that I had Nutella at home. She told me about Orange Marmalade and how she refused to eat it when she was younger so they didn’t give her cookies. We ranted around several subjects such as the Green Peace Campaign, Grassroots, politics, political studies, and other stuff like peanut butter and sandwiches. We went off to search for cookies, and when the cookies were so overpriced, we went to grab peanuts.

“Great,”
“What?” she asked.
“There’s no peanuts.”
“Why don’t you get cashews?”
“Because they don’t have honey roasted ones.”
“Oh.”
“There’s only this dry saliva sucking one.”
“Why don’t you drink it with rootbeer,” she said.
I sat comfortably staring at her with speculation, “I’m guesing you’re not on an organic diet?”
“What? Rootbeer isn’t caffeinated, it’s okay!”
“… okay..”

We went to the cashier line when she told me she had to cook dinner for her roommate. I replied by saying, you mean you have to microwave your dinner. Good times! We talked for a second about Sandra Bullock because she was on the covers of several gossip tabloids.

“Yeah, I remember her from Speed, that was like 10 years ago?”
“Wasn’t that 1997?” she replied.
“1996,” I replied.
“Oh…” she replied. I lied, I don’t remember what year it was.

As the cashier got finished ringing her up, I asked her if she’s just gunna go on and leave me, she said she would stay. A girl came passed her, saying excuse me with quite severe intent. I stared a Kayla with intrigued eyes, and mouthed the words, “she hates you.”

“So this is my car!” she said as we walked into the parking lot.
“You have Mazda,” I said reaking sarcasm, “Japanese are we?”
“It’s not Japanese!”
“Yeah it is, there’s a Z in it.”
“So every car with a Z is Japanese.”
“Everything with a Z is Japanese,” I said, pretty much talking out of my ass, “like Zebras.”
“Zebras are from Africa.”
“You’re from Africa!”

I stumbled across a number close. I figured an IOI line, before a number exchange would be fine. It was okay, the delivery was a little more rigid than I would’ve hoped. She wrote down her name on my arm because I told her I just recently broke my phone, but when her name seemed a little too common, I asked her to put her number too.
“Okay I get a hug.”
“What,” she said laughing, “I don’t give hugs to strangers!” she said as she sat in the driver seat of her car.
“Would you rather a firm hardshake.”
“Yes!”
“That’s it,” I said indefinitely, “I’m coming in.” I climbed into her driver seat and wrapped my arms around her. She laughed.

I brushed Nutella onto two slices of Country White amazingness, and turned on youtube to listen to Asia, Heat of the Moment. It’s a good day.

Paula's Story

(promises are meant to be broken)

I'm here at the Hyatt hotel in San Francisco looking out the window which oversees one corner of Union Square resting across from the Levi's store. The streets are intimately decorated with European raven black street lamps and a consistency of lifeless trees whose branches spatter about as if dying behind an invisible flame of night.

This is the second hotel lobby scenario I've been hiding out at, casually reading my book, including the Borders store. I've mapped out every hotel room I can serve as a nocturnal habitat within a certain perimeter. I've started at the Borders bookstore, moving to The Westin, then to the Hyatt; which where I am now. I'll then grab a sandwich at the newly 24 hour subway, walk over to the Palace Hotel or The other Westin. The first Westin, is probably named something else, which doesn't matter, it's there, it's mapped.

I thought about stealing, sin, and being an incubator of guilt and more and more guilt. I thought about God and his empty replies to my ever persistent hope. I thought about work, Pase, Ani, Ava, Anoli didn't scrap into my mind until I understood that I was making a list of thoughts and that I should include her if I was doing so. I sat there, my ass rested on the back edge of the couch, leaned onto the metal railing looking out the window. Fountain, trees, lamps. Levi's.

* * * * *

Paula. Paula G.

We were standing outside the Hyatt of Embarcadero, on a bridge connecting us to the second floor. We stood amongst Ivory trees stripped of their leaves but lined with Christmas lights, my back leaning on the large cement construction that acted like a vase that held a tree. After talking about seasonal weddings, the sitcom Friends and how weird the Joey-Rachel thing was, I asked her if could kiss her.

"I don't know, I don't want to kiss you and have it not lead to anything," she said. "I thought you just wanted to be friends," she said referring to what I said earlier when we sneaked into a theatre and quickly left when there was nothing to further experience, I had told her, jokingly, disqualifyingly, that we should always be friends.

"Well, I want to kiss you," I replied to her, "I just don't want us to never be friends." I said, I looked in my heads to further clarify what I wanted. "I want to kiss you, but if something happens to us, and we can't be friends, I'd rather not."

"Oh," she said.
I pulled her forward opening my arms to embrace her, but she lifted her chin up to my face, and before she can realize I was hugging her, she retrieved it back. "Did you want to kiss me," I asked.
"I was going to let you decide..."
I held her with one arm, and pulled her chin up with the other. I took her lips forward as I leaned my head slightly to place mine on hers.

She pulled away slowly and huddled under my chest. A silver calm sank into us under the trees, the lights, the ever deepening night sky. "Do you understand what I was trying to say," I asked the back of her head.

"...... not exactly."

I looked at her, at her round face, skinny lips, and large unexcusably sunny winter sky blue eyes, and clarified myself.
"Oh," she replied with earnest understanding, "So, no matter what, you always want to be friends?"
"Yes!"


The day I met Paula I fervently enjoyed her company. Her ethics and compassion for writing drew me into her along with her unique face, large endearing crystal eyes, and dark deep amber colored hair. But, for some odd reason, despite the day we had first met, we didn't consume an exciting growing spark that we, or I, hoped we would find in each other. The day outside the Hyatt of Embarcadero, that day, was the first and last day, I laid lips on her. I saw her other times before Winter break, but we never kissed, we argued and almost broke each other, but never kissed. We never found that intimacy again. We could never find the same intimacy we had under the Christmas lit ivory branches, nestled on a couch under the high ceilings of the Hyatt, not even the same intimacy we shared as we squeezed into my passeger seat, her body placed right on top of mine before the moment of that day diminished and I would have to walk her back to her dorm room. We never found it. We were slowly turning to the anticipating divorce couple where she hid hugs and I hid reason.

During Winter Break, I didn't want to understand what was happening, and how our hope in each other was slowly dying, as if they were candles left at some abandoned cathedral. I wanted to believe she was coming back, and as our voices became more and more stagnant over the phone, and our silences decided to become more oppressing, I knew the dying flames of our intimacy had to come to an end.

It was 4 days before Christmas, when I took Megan's lips, neck, breast, pulled handfulls of her long blonde hair hair that afternoon, and placed my face deep into her white thighs. It was 10 days after Paula came back from winter break, that I found out she was probably doing the same thing. She now had a newly tied boyfriend.

Despite our unique and somewhat parallel collaboration, we've both faltered to keep our promise to stay friends. It's as much my fault as it could be hers. But, we could spend awhile pointing fingers, again. I'm in the wondering of what should I do next.

Ambassador, February 24th

(On Geary and Leavenworth)

"Dude your my best friend man," I told Nathan along the industrial road, with nothing but industry in sights end from left and right. Nathan's turned quiet from his drunken know everything and anything prose. He lifted up his arm like a wing and walked over to me. "You're my bestfriend too," he said in embrace, "you actually came to meet my family." There wasn't anything left to say after everything that had happened tonight.

It's February 24, 2010. We're at the Ambassador in San Francisco.

* * * * * * *

"Hey, okay here this is what were going to do," I grabbed the end of the lime, and pulled over any Corona at our table. It was probably Gio's, our friend who was coming late to meet us. "I'm going to bite this lime on one end, and your going to bite the other end." She nodded, "Okay," she replied. We bit, slightly brushed upon each others lips, dropped our bottles, and I came back for a full kiss. HB9. First set. Went amazing. Marissa.

Milan. The next girl was Milan. Korean, almost didn't speak a walk of English. The waitress placed 4 shots on our table. I pulled a lime out of a cup. "So this is what were going to do..." .... score.

"Dude we can't lose that booth," Nathan said. It was the only thing anchoring every set of girls we were talking to. "Did you kiss her," I asked. He replied by saying no. I was 2 for 2. He wasn't. Gio had left as soon as he came in. Nathan said he probably was intimidated. He was probably right.

"You have to close your mouth," I said after I kissed Charlotte, a different girl. She was french. Kinda fat. Well her body resembled an egg. Nathan and I were already pulling every set left and right. She was French. "We don't kiss like that in France," she replied. "So do you want to give me a french kiss" I asked. She nodded. 3 for 3. But who's counting anyways.

We were unstoppable, destroying everything left and right. "I'm adopted!" she said. I have no idea what her name was; she wasn't black black, she was sort of international black, the pure pigment separating black and African American. I saw the connection we had. But, still. I wanted her for Nathan, to smooth out the levels between us. I didn't want to kiss her. I didn't want to really touch her. But as she twirled, she was happy. And as I grabbed her back and legs, lifting her around in some safety crusader type of way. I still left her for Nate. They both went in and sat in the booth. I, on the other hand went into the first set of Latina high class women, with my gray graphic aeropostale t shirt.

"You guys are the sexiest couple here," I asked. I moved in back and forth, realizing I didn't exactly staple myself to one girl and continued to game both. I was doing great none the less. I blasted and turned and teased. But I asked them to sit in our booth, and they replied with, "we'll meet you there," which read into me as, 'most likely not.' I wanted to pull an eskimo kiss, where both our noses touch, so I can anchor myself, do something extraordinary, make that one push for social difference. But I didn't ask and it just looked like I was forcing myself to kiss her. "Your so rude," the other girl said. I left, smiled, and just left.

We talked to the Swiss adopted African American girl a little more, until she left. Nathan said she got all protective without me around.

"Hey could I pet your coat," I said as Nathan and I immediately left the booth and a 2 set had just walked in. I forgot what happened there, but I guessed that her friend was a Capricorn, and I was right, and then I was kissing her. 4th kiss. 4th kiss was an HB8.5, brunnette, with amazing tits that I didn't touch, but she was beautiful, sexy, and I kissed her with maybe 4 words, and the major surprise was that they had both JUST walked into the bar.

We walked through the club. I scanned until I found a blonde black girl, black as in black. I couldn't tell until later that her hair was designed in dreadlocks. "I'm going to introduce you to her," I said to Nathan as soon as a bigger whiter guy came in for the swoop on her. "Hold on, damn!" I said to Nathan. "Don't worry about it," Nathan replied, "I'll just Amog him!" "No," I replied, "I don't want to do any AMOGing tonight, were better than that, just let me think." I looked in front of me to find a healthy pale looking brunnette with stars covering the front top of her blouse. I grabbed her shoulder, pivoted her away from her conversation towards me,"Can I ask you for a favor," I said impaling the most confidently blaring idea. "Yeah, what do you need!" she asked happily. "See that girl over there, my friend wants to meet her!" I replied yelling in her ear, "Could you introduce my friend to her." Yeah totally, she replied with an endless smile beyond cheek to cheek, happy to work for me. And I was happy to be the boss of tonight. I pulled Nathan through, and he pulled on back, not wanting to leave his nesting. I watched happily as the healthy pale brunette pulled on Nathan's hand and tapped onto the black blonde girl's shoulder. I looked at the guy who I just took her away from, he smiled in an unbelieved confidence. Then random-brunette-HB8.5 walked by again, I grabbed her by her face and slipped into her lips in excitement. She continued walking and I danced for a few unbelievably amazed seconds. I just realized how many hearts I must've been breaking.

I went to wing Nathan, the big white white dude was a surfer from San Diego, who obviously didn't know how to talk without spraying spit all over my face. Nathan left empty handed, and I left the garden sprinkler. "What happened," I asked Nathan. "She said she was going to get a drink," he replied. In failure was opportunity. I walked right up to the bar, said something about her hair, she explained herself, I must've got bored, or I think I was looking both at her and someone else, so I left. But I made the most of it. And I was pushing everything in every other way.

I looked behind me and there was the sexiest blonish brunette there wearing a black halter top, her elbows pressed onto the bar. I walked, pushed my way through, and got completely behind her, "There is no doubt that you have the sexiest shoulders in this whole place," I said. "We just met outside," she replied. We did. At some point during the night, Nathan and I were outside and I met this guy through Nathan, who introduced me to her friend, and I pushed to meet her and her name was Molly. She wasn't kidding. "Wow, it's awkward now, because we already met and now I'm hitting on you, that's like hitting on my sister." She laughed, I posed one of the bigger complements that I've probably ever said and asked her if she was a model. She replied that she does some type of marketing then, "I'm not saying you should be a model because you can, I'm saying it.... because.. I mean you freak'n are a model! She laughed. Nathan tapped me, then he pulled my arm. I didn't know what for, but I had to get out of set, which really didn't matter because her complete hotness was blowing out my confidence, and even though I was influencing the same greatness, in my mind, I knew, it wasn't going to hold. "Hey," I said knowing I was going to have to ask permission, "I'm going to kiss you on the cheek!" I said. She pulled her face to the side acknowledging her cheek, in a way in which I knew it was too early for a speedy make out kiss. I placed my lips on her cheek, then pointed to my cheek. I felt her lips brush up against my skin, and I would've probably curled to death.....purring.



Then as much as I don't want to give in to it. The night turned out to be the BEST THEN WORST night that I've had to ever deal with. Nathan got drunk. And then Nathan got violent.

I saw someone kissing the egg shaped french girl, and brushed it off, saying to myself that that was the last time I make out with a girl lesser than HB7. That girl also had a friend, and she was also making out with some really REALLY tall lanky guy. They both stumbled somehow and fell on the floor. I helped the tall guy up first, then the Korean friend. I grabbed her face and brushed my fingers across her hair cleaning her up. "Are you okay," I said repeatively hearing my mommy factor place in. Nathan pulled her away from me. She said something to Nathan, then the tall guy pulled her away from Nathan. Nathan looked at me furiously. I knew it was coming, the talk about AMOGing, hearing him talk about cockblocking, it was all going to blow up in my face. Nathan went to talk to me, "she said she needs to find her friend," the egg. I came up to her as she fell drunkenly further into the tall white guy's stomach. "What do you need?" I asked her. Then he pushed my shoulder opening me up. "She doesn't want you." he said, in some super low faggot tone. Ummm okay....

But then Nathan came up. And guess who said the same exact thing. Nathan turned up to him in his fight all to kill all mode, pressing his chest up against the tall white dude. I reacted. I quickly slipped my arm into his arm, hooking him with one, then with the other. I grabbed a double under hook and pulled him out. I could see a quick glimpse of everyone turning startled. Nathan pushed and yelled at me for doing it, but I knew it was a have to.

We walked outside, and before we could walk all the way outside in the comfort of one of Nathan's cigarettes, he had to turn back, turning to two innocent cordial white boys. Yelling in frustration. "Look man, I just wanted a cigarettes, and you and your friend has to come up to me and talk shit!" Volatility ran rampant, as Nathan yelled endlessly to the guys who just needed to get two inches pass the main entrance but couldn't. Security came in and kicked the other guys out. I felt bad, but I was already feeling bad. I already felt the main constant downhill driving us down.

Nathan told me it would be okay, and that I should just cool it with being disappointed with him. So I tried. I opened a set, which didn't end well, so I won't talk about it. Then I opened another set, as I saw a sorta Africanny hot girl, I opened her telling her that my friend wanted me to introduce her to him. I did, talked to the friend. But when the guy friend came trying to cut off Nathan, it was the same God damn story. I watched the eyes of the Africanny hot girl start losing focus, then burning in frustration, then leaving. Nathan still yelled at him, "You don't just cut in front of people like that, you know that shit gets people hurt, you know that right!" The lights finally lit the room. It was probably almost 2. There were no sets to open. There was nothing much to go about and care for. It was over, and now it was disappointing.

Before I left, I told a girl she was incredibly sexy, and left as fast as I could. We talked a bit outside, saw that Korean girl again, Nathan tried to talk to her, and she left. I saw the two guys Nathan got kicked out of that place. I talked to them for a little bit, wished the other guy happy birthday, yeah it was his birthday. They replied telling me that I was the nicest guy they ever met. And once Nathan came in, he just had to say, you know you don't bring that shit here. They couldn't leave fast enough. Before we even got off the block, Nathan tried to pull a cigarette out of the mouth of a homeless guy who furiously threw his elbow up before Nathan can get close enough.

Then as quick as quick can be, Nathan went into the neighboring bar. Harassed the bartender, "I GOT FUCKING ID! YOU DON"T THINK I GOT FUCKING ID!" Then he complacently placed himself on a stool, and asked for water. The Asian bartender was furious, telling him to get the fuck out and leave. Nathan started speaking Spanish. Some amigo in a cowboy hat and a suit tried to sooth him. Everyone watched. We were a spectacle. Nathan threw his ID at the girl, and she threw it back, threatening to call 911. I locked eyes with the old asian female bartender, and drew a spledid 'everything's going to be okay' smile. Her heart lightened up to talk to me. I explained to her that he's drunk and someone else took the girl he was talking to. She told me girls are bad for us. Nathan still said delirious bullshit. I went to grab his ID off the floor, and even though the many times the cowboy amigo tried to get us a cervessa, we were still being kicked out. Not before Nathan yelled out BITCH! After, I smiled, and said love.

Then as soon as we got out, we saw a girl with a bandana who I pretty much saw all night at the bar we were at. She was wrapped into the arms of the guy she spent the past 3 or 4 hours with, without leaving, without anything. I told them they were the most extremely beautiful couple I saw in there, and I had no idea how they spent hours straight just in each other arms at a bar without talking to anyone else. I told them I couldn't do that. The truth was I wanted to do that. So badly. Nathan came up to them, still yelling that an Asian bitch pushed out a white spanish speaking person, and that he never felt more black. He came up to the couple, and it wasn't as bad. Before we left, I asked them if they could kiss before I left. I don't know if I was playing hamburger helper, or if I was just trying to hurt myself with jealousy. I think both worked. And yeah, the grief of jealousy did envelope my insides.

Nathan ran up to random cars, kicking the wind shields, and wacking side view mirrors. We got to the car, but we still weren't sober enough. We both took a shot before we left with an Asian couple who were pretty cool. I did want to leave SF with that thought, but I couldn't. Nathan continued to hit shit. He wanted to take a piss in the street facing the entrance of an hookah bar, but he didn't. We went into the hookah bar anyways, of course with Nathan running into there. Some bubble was in the sky and he acted amazed. We walked for a bit, then walked back. He kicked a chair down, then I pulled it up. Then the bar owner of the hookah place came up to us. "Hey are you okay," his tone sounded more empathetic than it did anything else, "Why you kick my chair down," then it sounded threatening, "How bout I call the cops on you, would you like that," definitely threatening. We ran, then ran back realizing the car was in front of the hookah bar. Nathan handed me the keys and before we could drive off, I could see hookah man with his rainbow tight shirt calling the cops. We drove as I fought some simple flakes of intoxication. I wasn't buzzed or drunk, just a little aftermath intoxicatedness.

But I still drove. We planned on hitting the donut shop but being "sketchy" as Nathan said, I felt that if rainbow hookah shirt got our license plate and we were just chillen at a donut shop, which happens to be the everyday staple of every cops meal, then we were fucked. So I drove to the freeway on the way to the nearest next town.

We got onto the freeway and onto the bridge, I wasn't serving, it was raining, but the equation seemed bad either way. I drove off to the next city, believing in the golden truth of safety first. Nathan yelled bullshit about game, about men, about who we are, and as we parked in a place with nothing but industrial bullshit from here to there, we got out took pisses on the street and yelled at each other.

"You're my best friend dude," I said. And that's when Nathan put me under his wing. It was what he probably wanted to hear, and it was what I wanted to say. I told him how I hate being around him when he's drunk. Then it was more bullshit and squabbling. I drove, getting us lost, and on different freeways. Then we were on the freeway.

I thought about that couple. Enjoyed the beginning of the night, and dreaded having to live through the end, but I thought about the couple, hours in each others arms. I wanted that. I wanted that peace. Why am I doing this? Because I wanted that peace. For a split second I thought about Pais, then moved on. Right now I thought about Erika, but I'm moving on. There's Emali and Brianna. Brianna's black, I don't know why that's mentionable, but I've never really gamed a black chick other than one other time, and I kiss closed her the day we met. Emali's 18 and in highschool. There's also Kate Black Glasses, who has the boyfriend but consistently makes moves that mention that I should make the moves. There's Kate Red, who is probably not making much of a comeback, but it's something to look for. And there's Whitney, a great, awesome, super cool, and lesbian. I should be thinking more about Pais, I mean to say I shouldn't be thinking about her, but for the sake of "the need to want peace" most recently Pais seemed like the most likely candidate. But she's gone, along with Erika. A lot of everyone is just gone. Anyways, I want that peace. I just want to be peaceful, have friends with girlfriends, take our girlfriends out, go skiing together, and wake up in the morning next to her. That's all I want. And for the past 2 years I've been fucking it up.

Tonight began with a bang, and everything else is just like those other girls that you never forget but do everything else to push their idea away.


Most importantly, I understand. I understand that I am very very capable. Very capable.

Whitney's Story

(It's Valentine's Day)

It's February 14th in San Francisco. Feathers disguised the sky as snow. It is the unity of pillows tonight, where thousands of people blind the streets with pillows in hand to face off in the massive mosh pit orgy in the middle of the Embarcedero in for the annual San Francisco Pillow Fight.

I came there with my brother and his wife. I was wacking people from behind a much much harder than the recommended swing. They both left, once my friend got there to take their parking space. We went to the massive pit once again, grabbing the first pillows we could find.

I yelled things like:

"WIFE BEATER FIGHT,"
"GIRLS WITH BACKPACKS ARE HOT!"
"NERDY CHICKS ARE SEXY!"

Right before I would hit someone with the given attributes. I didn't plan on gaming. I planned on having fun. Behind my mind was Pase, the girl mentioned in the link that I provided before this field report started. But overall, I pushed forward to not think about her. I didn't game anyone, but I gained a lot of social circle happy times.

Nathan, my friend, wanted to go back to the car to take off his shirt. He was wearing two shirts so I initially thought he was just going to take off one shirt. Then he said we should just go shirtless. I'm an obviously better build, better cleaned up, and a lot tanner guy, so I agreed.

Immediately I got called Taylor Launter. I'm flattered.

When girls decided to hit me, I replied with charming effervescence, "Can't we just hug it out!" They laughed, and we did. There were kids fighting one on one surrounded by a circle of people. One kid, the Chinese kid, just stopped. He was in the middle and just stopped, and started getting hit over and over. He soon left, tears hiding behind his skin. Everyone was in shear silence wondering if they should just leave. Time to shine. I went into the circle, raised the little boys hand, shirtless and everything, and let out my signature roar. Everyone clapped at the boy, I was just collateral damage.

A lot of the same yelling at random people. A lot of girls hugging the shirtless me. A lot of kisses on cheeks. I was in a one on one battle with this lenky super tall African fellow, African as in International looking, and one girl just busted into the circle hitting me with her pillow.

"What are you doing?" I said in my nonchalant voice, I remembered her from earlier.
".. I don't know!" she replied. I wrapped my lips softly on her forehead. I left the circle, as my friend attacked my use to be opponent. As I left the circle to watch, two girls screamed at me, "good job shirtless guy!" I turned to look over to them timidly drooling over me obviously.

Tip: Before I get into more plot line, I recommend that people act like this in more social situations such as the one I'm explaining. Be the one being loud in loud groups, win over group satisfaction. And then girls will start opening you, or pointing at you, or giving you some type of indication of their horny slash so-lonely-ness.


I was watching something around several other people. Maybe i hit someone with a pillow, maybe I was just talking to someone, but the next thing that's happening is me getting hit feverishly with downpour of rough calamity. My head juts to the ground, I'm trying to look up, but it's a lot of pounding. A lot of reckless hammering just being unleashed on me. I pull out, I strife to the side. I pivot and turn. And it's a girl.

"... . . . . woah." I say quietly as I turn to see her. The people in close proximity are laughing because they've witnessed the whole thing happened, how this girl just started pounding across my face, neck, and whole upper body in awe, and then my storybook reaction to all of it just happening. She's recklessly beautiful, like a female carnivorous beast with short hair and impeccable skin.

I rip through the sky, my pillow breaking awakened in the silent instilled reverie. I'm flailing my sac across the sky as it meets up with her face and body. I roar! She roars! She's pushing her pillow through the sky as if it's her last day alive. Her hooks and blows jab me recklessly. It's white and motion. All I see is white and motion. I see her arms if I'm lucky.

"OKAY OKAY STOP!" I say. "You win you win! Stop hitting me!" the words come out of my mouth in a hilarium filled surrender. She starts laughing.

----
"I'm Jon," I say passing up the indicative questions of asking what her name is.
"I'm Whitney." I could feel everyone's eyes on us watching a storybook fairytale unfold in front of them.

I honestly forgot everything I said here. Maybe I said, 'you have short hair, I have short hair too, what makes you so special!' Or 'You looking to kill someone with that pillow or something?' Something comical.

OOPS! Scratch that, none of this happened. OOOOps. I'm not going to delete what I wrote, because that's just dumb, plus it's somewhat useful, it just didn't happen because the wrong thoughts are being pushed. Just scratch everything I said from the minute I introduced myself as jon. WHAT I DID DO! Was say, "okay I'm done, let's go hug it out." Then I left her, and watched as she just destroyed other people in front of me.


It wasn't until a lot later, when SHE OPENED ME!

She wacked me with the pillow again, again with the pillows, what'd she think this was an all-jon buffet bar. She stopped. "Who are you? I'm Whitney!"

"I'm Jon." The reflections of millions of artificial snow implied pillow feathers scooped across the night sky as I pulled my hand out to meet this infuriating yet sensitive small kitten. She seemed so much more smaller from where I stood. She told me where she was from, which was exactly where I was from. She went to a high school I knew, and I told her how the wrestling team was awesome. Then I think I messed around by saying that she must've been a cheerleader there.

Introduced her to Nathan, who was telling me he had to leave. I borrowed his phone since mine sucked major ass and it's screen was broken, I took down her number. I gave my friend his phone back, then looked back at Whitney.

"Wanna go wack people!" I asked.
"Let's go!"

We went from set to set, cornering people from the back and front. We did that a couple of times as a horde of ghetto retards were forming. The guy who was doing most of the talking, the so called "Leader" was rounding people up. Their focus was Whit, so as the pillows came driving at her I could see her fighting back, and so was I, the circle was pushing me away from her. She pulled out rip through the crowd throwing elbows at the leader. His hands flew up in the air, telling her to stop over and over, as we all watched this crazy girl go off at this one guy. He stopped us both, as Whitney and I stood next to each other.

"Hey," he said, "Join the mob!"

... ummm "okay!"

We went on wacking people, choosing them, then wacking them, and then asking them to join the big group called the Mob. And that got tiring really quick. "I need to use the bathroom," I told Whitney.

We went to the Hyatt Hotel. Pillow in hand, me wearing a wife beater, and feathers attending the hair show. "You sure their just gunna let us walk in like this?" Whitney asked.

"Why not? If we get kicked out, we get kicked out, who cares?"
"Okay!"

We went up the escalators to the vast main floor, designed with ceilings amounting to the number of floors there were in the hotel itself. Large lines of white Christmas lights rapeled from the ceiling. The large geometrical skeleton of a sphere was the main course of the room, as it stood definitively on a platform made of calm water, it's ends draping water across to another level below. We went ahead to find the bathroom.

I took a shit. I tried to be as quick as possible. But I needed to take a shit. I walked out and told Whitney it was my hair, and I tried to get the feathers out. We went over to the elevators. For some reason I felt as if we could get a great view of the city. Before we got to the elevators, Whitney was talking about being in rehab for alcoholism. She's a lesbian by the way. Just thought I should mention that. Her hair was probably a dead give away. She was even there at the pillowfight with her girlfriend. We stood waiting for the elevators when Whitney found out that her forearm was bleeding. I told her to show me. I took one look at it, pressed my lips around it and politely sucked on it lightly. She laughed.

We shared the elevator with several other people. I just remembered, we didn't want to see the city from the elevator, we wanted to see the hotel from the highest floor down.


Before returned to the fading mosh pit of feathers, and left her to her girlfriend, a really shy petite black girl, I took her number down again, on a piece of paper. Very important because the number in Nathan's phone wasn't hers. I walked around trying to find the girl who busted into my one on one and kissed on the cheek but I couldn't find her. I saw Whit several times as I circled around the place. She was gathering amongst several friends.

I saw some guy who hit me in the nut, where I playfully went about saying, it's okay I like white people. I waved to him and then watched outside another circle being formed, maybe the last of the day altogether. Everyone who was left watched as two people met at the center of the ring for a final bout of the night.

I looked to the girl next to me. I don't remember what I opened with. I don't remember how she told me she was French. But, her name was Anoli.

Anoli. Number closed in front of two friends within a measly sucky 3 minutes.


... ... several weeks later...

I wrapped my tongue around Anoli's firm C-cup breasts that miraculously were attached to her height of 5'3. "Why'd you give me your number?" I asked.

"Probably because you were wearing a wife beater," she said simply.