Tuesday, December 7, 2010

The Jungle

When they bang us in the club baby you gotta get up, thug nigga's, drug dealas, yeah they givin it up

The darkened dance club with a modern Beowulf standing at the front door and the hobbyists boozing and gawking, waiting for a hole in the slipstream, presents both a challenge and opportunity for a young Guerilla to capture the memories of a lifetime.  The nefarious twank that goes on inside these places is legendary, and for a good reason.  I remember being at Grace Jones show in a Paris club, drunk on 25-franc Heinekens (and this was 1981, munchkins).  The Jamaican dyke had long since left the stage (after a great show I might add) and I was swirling alone at like 5 am on a postage stamp dance floor.  Suddenly I was approached by maybe the hottest bitch I have ever seen, swarthy-dark French complexion, straight black hair, exquisitely slutty get up.  She hovered over me like a UFO; I could feel her breath.  I paused, frozen in the headlights of this Athena.

Later I learned she was a whore.  Well most likely.  Well maybe. 

These places are usually set in the tony part of large cities.  They attract hot chicks who are dressed up and spending money (theirs or someone else's)--they excel at cultivation of the ingredients for an event.  If you've followed me at all you know I encourage men to look for women when there is a sense of occasion front and center.  The gonads of all ladies sweat when there is money and exclusivity, when they smell the sense of special.

But the event may turn out to be you roasting on a spit if you let it get the best of you.  Ergo should you choose to dip a toe in this River Styx here's a few hints.

Feline on Guard
One of the problems with these places is that they are as stuck on "on" as a broken vibrator.   The game is being played full tilt; no such thing as a genuinely innocent convo.  The damsels thus have their drawbridge up--way up--and if you bring it, you have to bring it strong or you'll fall in the moat.  This doesn't play into some guys' "technique" too well.   It can be daunting.  Foxy chicks, loud music, obnoxious bartenders.  It's a war.

Example:  asking a chick to dance.  If you bust out with an approach, "ask" with confidence--ask the question like there is only one answer.   And be ready to move.  One of the antidotes to these joints is authenticity.  Sincerity will sometimes beat down the player.  Dance in a groove; if you get into it and do it for what it is, do it for real--instead of using it as a pick up tool--you can sometimes snap a chick's resistance.

The Inverted 6
Another issue is that because the bitches is dressed up and because the players are out in force, a girl will upgrade herself.  Don't lose your bearings.  The same girl in a bowling alley you would barely notice has not been genetically mutuated just because she threw on her spandex and lace.  Deal accordingly.

Frustration Factor
The guys (and it is guys) that own these places have a simple business model:  get the hot gash in the door and sell pots and pans to the miners.  You are, my friend, therefore nothing but a wallet and you are dispensable--there are 50 more of you waiting at the door (that's why Beowulf is guarding it).  When you first apprehend this fact, it can be frustrating, especially if you hate being played.  But don't get frustrated--it shows immediately to the ladies.  Many clubs have outside/quiet areas.  Go and chill and get back into the action when you're ready.  You're here to hunt and have fun doing it.  Reclaim the lost property.

For more information on how the Guerilla approaches life and love go to www.guerillalover.com.

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