I accidentally open set while not “doing game”

I was in Newcastle shopping yesterday. The sun was shining. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror while going up the elevator in Primark and I thought my tricep looked quite defined and my gynaecomastia was nice and rounded, almost masquerading as pec. I was in a good mood. I was ambling through the shop and while browsing the three pound T-shirts (thank goodness for poverty stricken Bangladeshi children) I saw/heard a girl blabbering on her mobile phone in what sounded to me as Russian.

Here’s where I slipped up. Instead of getting my game face on, psyching myself up and getting in state I simply asked her “Excuse me… (charming smile, she smiles back)… what language was that you were speaking?”. This has to be the worst daygame approach ever. For a start I wasn’t taking the thing seriously. I hadn’t wandered the street on my own for at least half an hour before, getting into that crucial mindset of making the activity a chore and one which my forebrain was going to brutally force my hindbrain into doing. I didn’t have a little Moleskine notebook with me to note down the time and details of the set. Hell…. I didn’t even have a PUA man-bag!

Her: No, no…. it’s Lithuanian
Me: Oh I’m so sorry…. I can’t tell the difference.
Her: No, no it’s ok.. my English… it’s not so good… either  [spot the instant qualification… mmm what could trigger such low value? answers below]

I chat to this girl for five minutes. Lazily. Leaning on the clothes rail. I feel entitled. Primark is my kingdom.

It’s only a good five minutes in that I finally realize… I’M IN SET!! THIS COUNTS AS DAYGAME!

By then of course it’s too late. No chance to run my Panda-Stack routine, or to slip some retrospective negs in (“I forgot to tell you… you look a bit shit…no… I mean your clothes look shit… no I mean weird. Hang on… weird but cool… That’s it, I remember, you’re clothes are cool but weird).

I’ve accidentally DHV’ed myself many times by now. It’s not hard. Turns out this poor girl has come from Lithuania in search of employment and lives in a small coastal town in the North East and works in a seafood factory. Sounds awful. She mentions that she wants to do this to earn a better future for her son.

SINGLE MOTHER!

At this point I scream and slam both feet down on the brake pedal. Not only have I realized I’m accidentally in set but with a single mother. The EASIEST, LEAST ENTITLED AND MOST MAN-HUNGRY of all women. All I need to do here to close this girl is literally do anything which gives her the crumb of esteem that I don’t think she’s desperate.

I frantically carry out an emergency Fuckability rating on this girl to see if she can at least get into the Sea-Cow/Mud-Turtle category. This could end my dry spell!

The sad truth dawns on me. This girl is not even hot enough for a pump and dump. I ask myself honestly and genuinely “would you rather fuck this girl or have a night in”. I don’t want to fuck her.

Curse my ridiculous standards. She wasn’t fat. She wasn’t… hideous… She just wasn’t…above a 6.5. Honestly… I’d just rather not. Unlike a lot of other men I just don’t seem to have the ability to fuck mud-turtles. I just DON”T WANT TO. I’ve thought a bit more about my standards and the gap between “too gross to fuck” and “would marry assuming personality is rocket-fuel” is incredible small. 0.5 points on the scale! Yes! 0.5 points. Let’s quickly go over the Jambone scale:

5: ugly. friends openly ask you “why?”
6: you’re quietly embarassed by her lack of looks. friends would never mention it but it would hang uncomfortably in the air.
7: acceptable. no shame. no pride. most men date and marry 7’s.
8: her beauty preceeds you. it’s mentionable in conversation e.g.  “have you seen Bhodi’s girlfriend? wow”.

I believe that I would rather fuck no-one than fuck anything beneath a 6.5. I just don’t think I’m capable. I’m not sure my hindbrain could even give me enough juice to get a proper boner. I’d marry a 7. So total gap equals 0.5 points. This seems odd.

I bid the girl farewell. Sorry I  mean “eject”. It’s only later when I accidentally slip out my game focus again that I realise she was actually quite nice, and I felt sorry for her with her shitty job and boring life, and I could have at least Facebooked her and been platonic friends and showed her and her son round Newcastle a bit one day (and if you really must see the gain in it then of course she may have hot friends).  I take a quick look to see if I can spot her but she’s gone.