Too Late, Mate?: Dating Advice for Men - a Daygame Memoir by Alex Forrest

Author:Alex Forrest [Forrest, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2019-11-28T05:00:00+00:00

Encouraged by my success with fuzzy hat girl, I tried some more daygame. This time on the hotel receptionist, who was a real sultry beauty with raven-black hair and azure eyes. Slightly bored at end of season, but too professional to show it. I asked Tom about the wisdom of flirting with staff at a hotel.

“Be careful. It can go all a bit sour and create problems and embarrassment. But—yeah. If you like her a lot. The thing to do is just pick your moment and put your cards on the table. Don’t muck about. She’ll at least respect you for it. Keep it clean.”

So I simply said to her one day after skiing as I walked in and saw her smiling at me at reception, “Hey, I find you attractive and fun and I would like to take you out for a drink. When you’re free, of course…”

“Sure.”

“Cool.”

I was too excited to pin it down to a specific time or anything after that! I said something like, “Cool, great. We’ll… get together. I’ll check what day is best. Get back to you.” How I wished that I had just put a date in the diary at that moment. Escalated the interaction harder.66 There is a window with women, somehow, and you need to strike. The Universe trips you up, otherwise.

She left shift early on Saturday and she ended up being off-duty on Sunday as well, and we left on Monday. So I never saw her again to pin down the date and take her number. I did manage to get her Facebook from another member of staff who checked with her that it was alright. She and I had some conversations after that when I had returned to the UK. And she even sent me photos of herself. They were idyllic Bulgarian gypsy-like photos of her by a river with her head cocked to one side looking at me like a Pre-Raphaelite painting. I became romantic about her and drifted off into dreams of perhaps flying out to Sonny Beach on the Black Sea, a popular resort for Bulgarians, where she had told me she worked after the ski season was over. My old “romantic” self would have got on a plane in the summer and gone and visited her.

The painful truth was that I had this romantic ideal about love and was idealistic about it all, wanting to save her from her Bulgarian poverty and whisk her away. It would be a beautiful moment, and she would be eternally grateful and melt in my arms. And we would be happily married forever after.

But the ugly truth was that I should have escalated hard and fast and tried to fuck her there and then, in the hotel lift if necessary, and not mooned around, wistful about the whole thing. That was the Torero philosophy. Because until you do you are just a lovelorn victim. A weak man. George Clooney would not have written love poems and sent sweet messages over Facebook.

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