One Year (Part 1)

As I have mentioned before, I came across game and the Red Pill very late.  For the most part, I’m new to a lot of the stuff that comes as a result.  One such result was a yearlong friends with benefits relationship that ended this past Wednesday.

Now onto the backstory.

Location:  My Local Corner Bar, Columbus, OH

Time:  Saturday Night, Mid May 2011

I arrived at My Local Corner Bar later than I would’ve liked.  All the stools around the square bar were taken up and I wasn’t looking forward to standing.  Stepping up to an open gap, I caught the eye of the bartender girl that usually takes care of me when she worked.

Bartender Girl:  “Hi babe!  The usual?”

Beppo:  “Yep.”

She reached down into the cooler and grabbed a Labatt Blue (Yuengling hadn’t arrived at the time), popped the cap and put it in front of me.

Bartender Girl:  “There you go hon.”

Beppo:  “Thanks darlin’.  How have you been since I saw you last?”

Bartender Girl:  “About the same.  You?”

Beppo:  “No problems.  It’s too bad that there’s no stools left, I was looking forward to taking a load off.”

Bartender Girl:  “Oh! *looks around the edge of the bar* Hold on a second, let me see what I can do.”

She scurried off to the back of the bar and brought over one of the back-less stools that were around the high tables there.  She put it down, smiled and went back to facilitating the killing of brain cells.

I pulled up the stool to the bar and sat down.  Looking around, I scanned the crowd for girls to possibly approach.  I cursed the fact that my glasses probably needed a stronger prescription, since the finer details on the people on the other side of the bar were not very sharp.  After a few more beers, it was near to 23.00 and band that was playing brought in a large crowd.  That meant a larger turnover of people coming up to the bar to order drinks.

Since I usually go out solo dolo, I try to get a seat at a high traffic place at the bar and generally try to talk to the people who come up.  For the most part a lot of the conversations go nowhere, people just want their drinks and then go back the “dancefloor.”  I also like to people watch, which basically keeps me from getting bored.

So I’m sitting at the bar, taking a few sips from my beer when I get a tap on the shoulder.  I look over my shoulder; it’s a cute brunette.

Brunette:  “Can I squeeze in?”

A normal question.  I was next to decent sized gap, so no big deal.

Beppo:  “Sure.”

She smiled and moved up to the rail.  I turned back to my beer and then remembered something from Roissy “Just Say Something.”  As I was about to open my mouth, she got the attention of one of the bartenders and was getting ID’ed.  The bartender took a lot longer than usual looking at it, even bringing it under the rail to look at it closely under the lights.  Aha!  I had my in.

Beppo:  “Is that ID fake?  She took a long time checking it over.”

Brunette:  “I know!  And no, it’s not fake, but for some reason it always gets looked at longer as if it is.  My friends don’t have that problem though.”

We chatted for a little bit more before she got her drink.  I made her smile and laugh a few times and noticed she was playing with her hair.  My mind screamed at me “IOI!”  The bartender came back and she said the five words that if I had a nickel every time I heard it I’d be a millionaire.

Brunette (smiling):  “I’ll talk to you later.”

She stepped back behind me to let her friends get into the spot she just vacated.  I figured the odds that she, in fact, would come back to be extremely low.  So I said “Fuck it” to myself and turned around and reopened her over my shoulder.

I’m not going to recount the whole conversation, but it was textbook with regards to me gradually opening my body language as I gauged her increasing interest.  I knew I was in when she asked:

Brunette:  “So, what’s your name?”

Beppo (sticking my hand out):  “Beppo.  You?”

Brunette (grasping my hand):  *Blocked out by band noise*

Beppo (still holding her hand):  “What was it again?”

Brunette (louder):  “CommGirl.”

She invited me to her table and I did the “How does everyone know each other” thing.  Turns out CommGirl had just gotten out of her waitress job and was meeting her friend and her friend’s boyfriend out for a drink.  I thought “Good, she’s single.”

From there I either talked with her or the group, or listened when the others were talking.  Most of it was bullshit and drama from their circle of friends that for the most part bored the hell out of me.  As this was going on, I appraised CommGirl.

  • Brunette, hair to shoulders (could be longer)
  • 21
  • 5’2″-5’3″
  • Dressed well
  • Seemed laid back
  • Sunny disposition
  • Smiled, and meant it when she did

Initially, I graded her a high 6/low 7, would bang.

By the time 01.30 rolled around, her hand was resting on my knee under the table.  Time to pull the trigger.

Beppo:  “Let’s get out of here.”

CommGirl:  “Yes.”

I went over to close my tab while the girls went to the bathroom to do the “should I/shouldn’t I” powwow in the bathroom.  The boyfriend came up next to me and I looked over.

Beppo:  “Yeah?”

Boyfriend:  “Listen, you seem like an okay guy, but I still have to tell you this.  If you hurt CommGirl, myself and a few of my friends will be stopping by your house to let you know our displeasure.”

[Note:  He was an Indian guy (dot, not feather) who supposedly had AK-47’s in his trunk that night, and I wasn’t sure if he was bullshitting or was on the level.  I had a few firearms of my own, but a WWII vintage M1 Garand wouldn’t stand toe to toe with a group of angry Indians with automatic weapons.  Funny thing is, I later recounted this “warning” to CommGirl and she said “I don’t know why he’d say that; I don’t know him that well at all.”]

I figured he was either bullshitting me, mudchecking me or just being a plain-ole White Knight.  The latter seemed like the most correct.

Beppo:  “Seriously?  Who the fuck are you?  One of her Gay boyfriends?  She’s a big girl who can make her own choices and for the most part, I’m not other guys.”

Boyfriend:  “Yeah, I know, you’re cool.  But don’t forget.”

I shook my head and signed the credit card slip.  CommGirl sidled up and grabbed my hand.

Beppo:  “Ready to go?”

CommGirl:  “Yep!”

We walked outside and began to discuss logistics.  I suggested my place since it was literally right down the street (600m and change).  She balked and suggested her parent’s instead, mentioning something about her dog (and no, her parents were not home).  Since I was playing Fuck Up Avoidance-Game at this point, I acquiesced.  I followed her car and after a twenty-five minute drive later, got to her house.  We made out for a bit in the driveway while the garage door was opening, and she lead me inside wearing a naughty smile that I would see many times for the next year.

She took care of the dog while I used the bathroom.  I smiled to myself.  My first Same Night Lay!  I flushed, washed my hands and rejoined CommGirl in the kitchen.  We began making out again, gradually making our way to her bedroom.  She flicked a light on and I took off my glasses, shoes and socks.  I moved back to her and pulled her shirt off, and I internally said “Goddammit!”

CommGirl could definitely stand to lose 10 pounds (like most American girls, sadly).  I reappraised her as a mid-to-high 6, would bang.

Clothes flew off, I rolled on a condom (accidentally inside-out) and we got to business.

Thrusting, her moans, thrusting, change position, thrusting, her moans and bitten off cries, change position, thrusting again, sweat dripping from my nose onto her pillow.

I wasn’t close to coming, so I stopped.  I kind of understood why I couldn’t get off, the combination of the latent buzz from the alcohol, dehydration and that I was exhausted.

[Note:  Also for some reason, I had jerked off that afternoon.  I don’t remember why.]

CommGirl looked up at me and moved a sweaty lock of hair from her eye.

CommGirl (panting):  “If you’ve been tested recently, you can take the condom off.  I’m on birth control.”

It was nice that she was concerned about my orgasm, but I was taken aback that she would let someone she barely knew raw dog her.  Part of me wanted to pull off the rubber, dive in and damn the consequences.  Another part me said to decline, since I didn’t know if SHE had anything.  I knew I was clean, but knowing my luck I’d pick up something that she didn’t know she had.

Beppo (pulling out):  “No, that’s fine.  I can’t go on, I’m too fucking dehydrated (which was true).”

We exchanged numbers as we were dressing and she gave me a bottle of water before I left the house.  I said I’ll text her in a few days and could hang out again.  She called out to me as I was getting in my car:

CommGirl:  “I had fun!  Goodnight and drive safe!”


6 thoughts on “One Year (Part 1)

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