A couple of months back, Felix penned a curious article listing the top ten gaming allies: those staunch supporters, wondrous wingmen and brilliant bros who never failed to watch your back, and you can find said article here. It got me thinking, however; how many times have TV screens found themselves with a controller shaped hole through their centres as the result of some serious NPC irritation? There were a couple of Felix’s fondly loved sidekicks that I couldn’t help but disagree with, and suddenly a Top Ten started forming in my mind.

More often than not, the hapless characters alongside you are just well crafted bullseyes for enemy fire, or instructors with less appeal than a sat-nav voiced by Hitler. For every Aeris there’s a Natalya; for every Dante and Nero there’s a Jak and Daxter; for every Army of Two there’s a compelling character witness to make the case for saving the world on your own. These are those most insidious of nemeses: these are the cretins who try their hardest to ruin everything….and they’re supposed to be on our side!

Want to check out the Top 10? Hit the link to read the rest at Dealspwn.com

For a single woman looking for love (or a good time) in these early years of the 21st century, there are a few indispensible people that she needs to surround herself with: the sympathetic friend, on whose shoulder she can cry when things don’t work out with a guy; the realistic friend, who tells her that guy was a jackass and she can do better anyway; the platonic male friend, to whom she can go to for insight about the male psyche; the booty call, who’s always willing to give her a hand (or other body part) in the bedroom during a dry spell; and of course, the wingwoman – the co-pilot, the support system who rides shotgun with you as you navigate the treacherous waters of bars, clubs and parties trolling for a catch.

The term “wingwoman” derives from “wingman,” a term which was, according to Wikipedia, knower of all things, introduced in the 1986 movie Top Gun, and advanced in the vernacular by the 1996 movie Swingers. Wikipedia defines wingman as  “a role that a person may take when a friend needs support with approaching the opposite sex. A wingman is someone who is on the “inside” and is used to help someone with relationships.”  Wingmen have become a widely accepted social fixture in the years since the concept was first introduced; they have been featured in commercials, and have web sites devoted to them and their practices. Sadly, it seems wingwomen have gone under-appreciated on the Interwebs, which is why today I am offering The Girl’s Guide to Selecting and Being a Good Wingwoman.

*It should be noted that several of the rules listed on the Wingman Laws web site apply to wingwomen as well, i.e. always make sure you’re both looking your best, never leave a fallen pilot/wingwoman, have a rendezvous point if you get separated.

- First and foremost, you and your pilot/wingwomen must not share the same taste in men.  The pilot/wingwoman arrangement will never work if you’re both gunning for the same target.  This is all about teamwork and cooperation; there is no room for competition and sabotage here.
- Secondly, attitude is everything. A good wingwoman is open to being approached by guys; a great wingwoman is comfortable approaching guys herself. If you have to convince your wingwoman to come with you to the bar or the dance floor to start chatting up some fellas, forget it. Not only are you never going to be able to soar off victoriously into the sunset, you’re plane’s never even going to get off the runway.
- Along those same lines, a good wingwoman strikes a balance between being supportive, and a total twat-swatter (the feminine equivalent of a cock-block). I think this is one of the reasons the pilot/wingman system works better for men – they are notoriously un-picky. If it has boobs and it’s breathing, most likely there is a guy who will try to fuck it, and, 9 times out of 10, his buddy will support that mission. Conversely, women tend to have high (if not stratospheric) standards, and tend to be even more judgmental when it comes to the men their friends are eyeing. But you can’t have a wingwoman who shoots down all of your targets; it just won’t work. She also can’t automatically turn up her nose at every friend she is charged with distracting. Remember – “in it to win it” is the operative phrase here. To be a successful wingwoman, you have to take one for the team sometimes.
However, a good wingwoman is not so blindly supportive that she will not interject her opinion when it’s really, really called for. If a wingwoman knows something about a target that her pilot doesn’t, like that he has a girlfriend, herpes or a criminal record, by all means, she needs to speak up. I guess, in the end, what I’m trying to say is that the best women know how to use the “Abort Mission” button judiciously.
- Ideally, your wingwoman is also a single gal. While using a wingwoman who is taken automatically cuts out the competition factor, in order for the pilot/wingwoman formation to work, the wingwoman needs to be in it to win it as well, which can mean anything from flirting with a guy, to going home with him.
- Finally, when choosing to work with a wingwoman, it’s important to understand that you will be obligated, in the future, to return the favor. In the pilot/wingwoman relationship, everyone needs to be a switch-hitter. It’s only fair. Tonight may be your night to fly high, pilot, but next time, you’re the Goose to her Maverick.

Any other guidelines/thoughts on being a good wingwoman (or wingman)?  Feel free to share them in the comments!

"The Bro Code" By Barney Stinson with Matt Kuhn

“The Bro Code” is much more than a book, it’s a way of life. Penned by the self-proclaimed best Bro ever, Barney Stinson, this book is chock-full of advice, guidelines, and rules for Bros and wingmen the world over. Written with humor, wit, thoughtfulness and a strong desire to hook up with hot chicks, Stinson explains what to what a Bro should do in almost every situation.

Want to know the rules for a devil’s threeway (Article 34), or why it’s necessary for a wingman to jump on a grenade (Article 78)? You’ll find all the answers to the questions and more in the 195 pages that are “The Bro Code.”

Sure, ladies, you may be asking yourself, “Why would I ever want to read “The Bro Code”?” Well, here’s two reasons:

1. After a thorough reading, your understanding of men and their outrageous behavior and mannerisms will increase 10 fold. Guaranteed.

2. There’s nothing preventing women from ever being Bros (see Articles 22, 78, and 134).

Throughout my reading of “The Bro Code,” I laughed, I may have even pooped a little, but I definitely didn’t cry (see Article 41).

I recently began training with a semi pro indoor soccer team and this lead me to YouTube.

I was in search of some classic footage of the team I grew up sporting in Kansas, the Wichita Wings. I could not find any clips of them, but I was able to find this video that left a grin on my face for the rest of night.

Most of these clips are from early in the 1980’s before I was born. They immediately had me revisiting memories of the glory days when my parents would take my younger sister and me to the games. My parents took me to my first game at the Kansas Coliseum when I was only three months old.

I believe that was when I first feel in love. The cotton candy, the turf, the action, the cheerleaders, Wingman, free t-shirts, the lights, the PA announcer, the enemies, & the pre game warm up music all assembled into a massive happiness blanket that I would clothe myself with. As a child, nothing was better than being at a Wings game.

I’m gonna make a bold statement right now:

I got some serious game.

I know that sounds incredibly cocky, but it’s actually quite the opposite. You see, until about two years ago I was the girl who sat on the sidelines and watched as all my friends flirted with and won over the very boys I wanted for myself. I was essentially the hook-up water boy, holding everyone’s cocktails when they went to the bathroom and checking to make sure no one had anything in their teeth.  I accepted my role and went on with my life thinking I wasn’t pretty or skinny or perfect enough to be seen as anything more than the girl best friend.

But then something happened. I had a one-night stand with a boy who everyone wanted and – like that – everything changed. I started walking with a little swagger in my step, approaching anyone and everyone I wanted and suddenly I had developed my game winning moves.

I’m not kidding, if there were a Hall-of-Fame for pick-up lines, I’d be its first inductee.

So, after luring in my own men and playing professional wingman to all of my friends (I advise them on making a move and they pay me back with vodka-on-the-rocks), someone who has benefited from my work countless times finally convinced me to share my secrets with the world. If you can master these few little tips, you can win over any guy, any time.

[Now, just so you know, playing the game isn't just for ladies looking for some late night nookie. It's for those of you crushing on a guy and looking for something longer term, too.]

To begin with, I just want to say that no one is going to fall in love with you if you don’t show them there’s something to love. And I’m not talking about your nipples, honey. I’m talking about your confidence. If you sit back or do the wallflower thing, you will not lure in the hottie from Chem. But if you do whatever it is you do that makes you feel really good/hot/confident (for me it’s black eyeliner, straight hair and a great pair of jeans) and approach a guy with ease, he will be like putty in your hands.

Yeah, you have to approach him. Or you could wait for him to notice you in your group of 12 friends, think of a way to bust open the circle you guys are standing in and come up with something to say to  you. Seriously, just think of something witty and walk over there.

Ok, so you’re standing next to him. Now what do you say?
I have a few tried-and-true lines that get the conversation flowing every. single. time.

- “Whatcha drinkin?” – Easiest line in the book. (Hm, maybe I should write a book!) He’ll tell you, he’ll ask you what you’re drinking, you’ll start some conversation about how the bar always waters down their drinks, soon your drinks will be empty and he’ll be buying you a new one. Boom.

- [Squeeze in next to him at the bar while you battle for drinks] “I think we should work together. How about you try and lure the girl bartender and I’ll use my cleavage to try and get the dude.” Not only are you being cute and openly flirty, but you got him to notice your sex appeal without really asking for it. Plus, teamwork always fosters flirtation and witty banter will follow. I promise you that.

- Bring up something relevant. So, if he’s standing against the wall at a party, say something cute like, “You know the party is more fun if you actually talk to people.” If he’s on the dance floor gettin’ his groove on, compliment his moves. If you run into him at the party store, comment on what he’s buying and ask him where the party’s at. Yes, it all seems cheesy, but these lines get the convo started without making you look dumb/desperate/cliche.

And that is that. All you need is a little self-love, a few witty lines (which, by the way, I use over and over again. The guys won’t know how many times you’ve tried them before!) and you’re good to go. Once you try these out a few times you’ll see how easy picking up a guy can be.

Just don’t spit this game in any bar or party I frequent. That’s my territory, ladies.

Colin Wright (of Exile Lifestyle) wrote an amazingly insightful post titled, “I Feel So Used (and You Should Too)” about a topic very near and dear to my heart. Don’t let the title scare you off though, because I know career professionals with 20 years under their belts that still don’t get what he already thoroughly understands. I just wish he’d written his post before I approved the final version of my “I’m at a Networking Event–Now What???” manuscript last week so that I could have asked his permission to feature him/it in the book. Go Colin!

p.s. If you read Colin’s post please comment there – we need to encourage this guy!

Muita gente prefere sargear com wings, e muita gente prefere sargear sozinho. Dizem que não muda quase nada se o seu wing tá ali pra te ajudar ou não, afinal, é você que tá jogando.
Mas na verdade muda.
A escolha é de cada um, algumas pessoas se adaptam melhor ao jogo sozinho e outras ao jogo em grupo.




Alone Sarge





Pessoalmente, eu prefiro sargear sozinho. Você pode estar pensando que não seria nada divertido sair só… e está errado. Você tem razão em um ponto: eu realmente não estou me divertindo com meus amigos, mas estou abrindo sets, e isso é muito divertido! Me sociabilizar com pessoas desconhecidas e conseguir o que quero cedo ou tarde, ser um cara sociável e lembrar de como eu era nos meus tempos de beta, onde eu saía sozinho porque não tinha escolha, isso é bom pra mim mesmo, isso é o que eu chamo de diversão. Alone sarge é uma coisa muito boa.
Um dos motivos por ser tão boa é que você tem que abrir um set. Tipo, ou você chega em alguém ou você é visto como o cara sem amigos e anti-social. A partir do momento em que você vai sozinho para algum lugar onde geralmente você vai com os amigos, uma pressão social é criada em cima de você. E essa pressão é sua aliada. É ela que te força a abrir um set, é ela que te força a se sociabilizar, é ela que faz o teu progresso aparecer.


Um cara que é visto andando sozinho por aí, e que depois é visto andando com várias pessoas diferentes é um cara sociável, um cara interessante. Se as pessoas perceberem isso, a sua social proof no lugar vai crescer, o que vai fazer com que a aceitação em outros sets seja ainda mais fácil.
Visando a evolução pessoal como PUA, recomendo alone sarge. É o meu tipo preferido de sarge, e evoluo mais sozinho do que com meus wings junto.






Wing Sarge





Do outro lado, temos a sarge com wings. Talvez esse tipo possa ser mais divertido do que sozinho, você pode combinar várias coisas com seu wing, pode fazer joguinhos com a Hb, competições de quem pega mais, podem competir quem amoga melhor, enfim, existem inúmeras coisas que se podem fazer para se divertir em um set. Não pense que só porque você está com um amigo sua social proof vai ser maior. Sair com amigos é normal, o que vai te dar valor social é a interação com várias pessoas, desconhecidas ou não.
Além do mais, sempre é bom ser um bom PUA, e ser um wing faz parte disso. O objetivo principal dele é ajudar o PUA a pegar o alvo, depois, se conseguir, pode tentar pegar um dos obstáculos, mas não tem prioridade. Mas lembre-se que você só entra de wing se estiver com energia maior do que o set, ou pelo menos no mesmo nível, caso contrário, vai jogar a energia do grupo pra baixo, fazendo com que o PUA o perca.




Abraço.

A Prom Night/Wedding To Remember

Sometimes bitchy women need to be taught a lesson, and sometimes that lesson could be an adventure.

When a guy takes a girl somewhere as his date, she should at least go through the motions accordingly. I’m not saying fuck, although I don’t see anything wrong with it, but in public she should be social, conversational and put on a good show.

I was hanging out with this chick Lindsay, you know nothing serious. We hung out a few times, hooked up, etc.

She was one of many. And then it came up in conversation that I was going to a friend’s wedding. It also turned out although she didn’t know the groom as well as I did, she also knew a lot of people in the wedding party.

What a small world.

So she basically invited herself to along as my date. Cool. Normally I like to roll to weddings solo for creeping purpose (I’m sure you’ve seen the Wedding Crashers), but she’s fun to hang with… so whatever.

Plus I like the challenge of having multiple creeps going at the same time… it makes for an action-packed roller coaster ride of an evening. And if it blows up, it makes for a better story.

See, I sacrifice to entertain you.

Lindsay and I had groped each other on club couches, and knibbled and grinded on the dance floor, but I had yet to take her to the bathroom stall.

So a wedding should be a layup.

We’re from Northeastern Pennsylvania — Clarks Summit for me and Wilkes Barre for her — and the festivities are in New York City at the Ritz Carlton Hotel.

It’s close to two and a half hours away, so I’m getting a room there with her.

So the stage is set for an evening of drunken hedonism, and there’s no need to hang with her too much now.

I wanna keep our experience fresh, and give the lady something to look forward to.

So I keep living life… spreading my skills through the mean streets of Scranton and Wilkes Barre, as well as throwing in the occasional road trip of creepin’.

Either way I’m gonna close Lindsay on wedding night. It’s only appropriate.

Of course, I’m excited. I do love this game, and I play it with a fiery enthusiasm.

THE WEDDING

Six weeks later the wedding comes around and we’re at the reception… it’s lavish, and luxurious. They’re serving surf and turf, the bride’s father is fucking chunked.

The groom done good.

Despite the extravagant accommodations, Lindsay is being a fucking bitch.

She’s sitting at the table, texting like crazy, being very rude. I quickly put it together she had recently acquired a boyfriend. Which is fine. I had no interest in anything but fucking her anyway, and of I course, I love being the other man.

So now this broad is not living up to her date commitment. It’s very rude not only to me, but to the happy couple chaining themselves to one another like slaves on a ship where some sort of manual labor is required.

I don’t know, the only manual labor I’ve ever done is eating out a fat girl. If you see how soft my hands are you’ll notice I’ve made conscious attempts to avoid real work.

As our lovely full course gourmet dinner spread rolls to a close, Lindsay tells me that she may just drive home early. I say okay and then proceed to ignore her as if she’s a leper, or a cling magnet.

Both are infectious and a true player must make attempts to avoid them.

Lindsay didn’t want to partake in the party, so I’m not gonna babysit her sulking ass… I hope the nasty puss on her face forms crow’s feet.

MY NEXT MARK

I hang out with my friends at the wedding, dance my ass off, and leave Lindsay in solitude to continue her endless stream of texting at the table.

She seems pissed, but at this point that’s what I want. So I bust a’ move with some girls at the wedding, even make out with a girl when we go out for a cigarette.

She was a fantastic kisser, excellent with the lower lip nibble, but she had to leave with her parents.

(Don’t worry, I ended up tapping that at a later date).

POST WEDDING PROM PARTY

Regardless, after the wedding myself, my friends at the wedding – many who are in the bridal party – are partying at the hotel. We’re shooting the shit, getting wasted, and partying like rockstars at the Ritz. It’s a good time.

I hadn’t seen Lindsay since, didn’t particularly care to unless she was planning on apologizing for her rudeness by dropping to her knees like a catcher firing to second, and I figured she jetted home like she said.

I end up spotting this group of hotties on the patio. They’re having beers and passing around a bottle of Vodka on this cool, and clear spring evening.

I feel I must say hello. It would be rude not to be sociable, and I wasn’t raised that way. So I walk to the patio, make an introduction, and endear myself to the crowd. Of course I’m doing well.

These girls are dressed to the nines, sporting fancy, stylish party dresses and gowns, like they were just at a ball.

I took an interest in a beautiful busty blonde bombshell in the group. She had a bimbo look… tanned, tall, and rolling with hair extensions. She had a massive rack, stood about 5-10, and was in good shape but definitely had some curves. She had an ass on her.

Of course, I planned on plowing her. It’s my nature.

ME: “So what brings you all to the Ritz Carlton tonight?”

BIMBO: “Well we got a room here to party. We just had our prom.”

This excites me.

ME: “Oh… that’s nice. It’s a milestone you know.”

(A milestone I’d love to be a part of.)

BIMBO: “Yeah.”

ME: “Was it fun?”

BIMBO: “Oh yeah, it was a blast!”

ME: “Time goes by so fast, doesn’t it. I mean could you believe you already had your senior prom?”

BIMBO: “Actually I’m a junior.”

This excites me even more.

ME: “Oh… I’m sorry.”

BIMBO: “Why do I look older?”

ME: “You’re just very mature for your age.”

BIMBO: “Cool. Yeah I’m taking my driver’s test next week.”

ME: “Wow. Cool. It took me four times to pass mine… parallel parking is a bitch.”

BIMBO: “When did you get your license?”

ME: “Umm… Nine years ago.”

BIMBO: “Really… so you’re….”

ME: “Twenty-five.”

Some would lie themselves down, but I think that’s stupid. Well if legalities, authorities and statutory charges surface then lie your ass off, but as for drunken hookups… high school chicks, girls in general, dig older guys.

That doesn’t mean you want to be “creepy old” like the girl’s parent’s age, but twenty five is still so young that it gives off a stigma of seductive maturity.

BIMBO: “Does it matter that I’m 16.”

ME: “I thought you were mature.”

(The Bimbo giggles)

ME: “Does it matter that I’m 25?”

As usual, I know the answer.

BIMBO: “It’s hot.”

ME: “So what, no prom date?”

BIMBO: “I just broke up with my boyfriend a few weeks ago, so I just went with my friend Justin.”

ME: “Oh cool.”

BIMBO: “Yeah it was fun.”

ME: “You know, though, there’s a certain way you’re supposed to close your prom night.”

BIMBO: “Yeah.”

ME: “I mean, it’s a big night.”

BIMBO: “Yeah it is.”

ME: “It’s tradition.”

BIMBO: “Do you have a room here?”

ME: “Woah, woah, woah… what makes you think I’m that kind of guy?”

BIMBO: “Sorry.”

ME: “About what? I am that kind of guy… Let’s go to my room.”

PROM NIGHT TRADITION

On the walk to my room I learned that my date was a cheerleader (no surprise there), and third in line for prom queen.

I was pumped. I mean I was ready to mount royalty. She saw something in me, a simple commoner and now my penis and face (she seemed clean enough) was going to be used as her throne.

We made our way down the hall, passionately making out, throwing each other against the wall. She was unbuttoning my shirt and unzipping my pants as I struggled for my key card, and we quietly crept in. I turned the light on, and we noticed something on the bed.

My date Lindsay appeared to be asleep. This could be problematic.

I turned the light off.

PROM ROYALTY: “Who is she?”

ME: “She went to the wedding with me, but it’s nothing… she has a boyfriend.”

PROM ROYALTY: “Why would you bring me back where she was sleeping?”

ME: “It’s my room, and she said she was going home.”

The prom royalty kissed me, and I opened the door to our spacious bathroom.

ME: “Come on.”

I pulled some towels off the counter, and laid them down on the floor. I structured them nicely. I have to say I did well at assembling a bed on a bathroom floor. It was like building a teepee or setting up camp. Although the first thing I did was pitch a tent.

It was on. The bathroom brought out the best in this broad.

The prom royal and I mauled each other on the floor, ripping each other’s clothes off, sweating like dirty zoo animals.

It was a lovely exchange that we shared.

As the aftermath left us sweaty and dirty, we simply cleaned each other up in the shower, where we fucked again.

It was a nice evening. After all the dancing, drinking and fucking – I mean it was prom night – we earned a good night’s rest.

So we walked over to the bed. Lindsay was spread out in the middle of the bed, taking up space. Even asleep she’s an inconsiderate bitch.

I slid her to the left, and took every pillow I could find and constructed a pillow wall in the middle of the bed.

My girl from the prom is giggling through all this. My kind of girl.

Prom royalty and I slept on the one side of the pillow-laden fortress, with Lindsay on the other.

Myself and the Prom Royalty passed right out. It was a well deserved rest.

GOOD MORNING

A few hours later, I felt my girl from the prom feeling me up. She was grabbing downstairs again, and I let her do her thing. She ended up blowing me, and I found myself firing my load into her mouth as the daylight seeped through the shades.

It’s hard to resist a blowjob… especially when you’re barely alive as it is.

As the Prom Royal is showcasing her skills — she was good for a youngin’ — Lindsay awoke… SCREAMING!

LINDSAY: “What are you doing!?”

ME: “What does it look like?”

Prom royalty raised her head.

PROM ROYALTY: “Hi.”

ME: “You could keep going honey.”

And she did.

LINDSAY: “I can’t believe you.”

ME: “What… I built a pillow wall.”

LINDSAY: “Fuck you!”

ME: “Don’t be so rude! We have a guest. – And I already got fucked. — Say hello to Courtney, she did it.”

My cock’s still in the Prom Royalty’s perty mouth.

Lindsay is silent.

ME: “You said you were leaving! — Frankly, I can’t believe you’re disrupting me and my friend here. We’re trying to have a moment. You’re being downright uncouth.”

LINDSAY: “I’m leaving! (She screamed as if it would disappoint me).”

ME: “Well that would be the respectful thing to do… we enjoy our space.”

Lindsay grabbed her shit, and stormed off.

(Joke’s on her though, she left her ITouch video Ipod which is now mine baby! I deleted all her shit to make room for my stuff. She’s called me a few times since, leaving me messages asking if I’d seen it. I didn’t respond. I love my new Ipod.)

So after Lindsay left, Prom Royalty continued the lip service.

ME: “I apologize for her rudeness.”

PROM ROYALTY: “That’s okay,” she exclaimed as she came up for air with a slurp and a wipe of the mouth.

ME: “Finish up dear.”

And Prom Royalty went back to work. I returned the favor, and thanked her for her goodwill.

Her situation was both well-kempt and tasty. Then again she was royalty.

That was a prom night, and a wedding the three of us will never forget.

And the moral of the story is, have no morals… but don’t ever let anybody stifle your adventure.

I was used by Damaged Goods, but I got revenge.

It started when the stood up asked if I’d pay her tab.

As rude as it was, things were looking good as far as getting laid.

So I agreed. How much could it be at Sherlock’s bar in Erie? She was little, she wasn’t that drunk, and they didn’t serve food.

Since the Cougar’s tab was already on her debit card, the magnificent genius of a bartender couldn’t figure out how to switch it over. Lucky break I thought. I just beat $15.50.

And then she asked me if I would give her the cash to put in her account so she wouldn’t be over-drawn. She was going far with this whole acting-like-her-date thing. And my date was a high-maintenance bitch.

I can’t believe it, but I humbly obliged, and handed her a twenty. The only thing that made me feel good about this transaction was that I felt like I was hiring a prostitute.

Getting her wet

We went back to my friend Brian’s house, sipped some Asti Nando, and rocked out to The Doors. We strolled on the porch for a cigarette, and between puffs of menthol smoke and swigs of champagne I grasped her tiny hips, and gazed into her eyes as I sat in a chair and pulled her on top of me. I nibbled her neck and ears, and kissed her.

“It’s been so long, I don’t know how to makeout anymore,” she said. “Was that okay?”

“You’re a great kisser,” I replied.

“Well you kiss me,” she said.

“Whatever you say,” I answered.

I kissed her again, slowly and softly, then pulled out my secret weapon: the lower lip nibble.

COUGAR: “If you keep doing that I’m gonna want to have sex with you.”

ME: “As your date, I’m ready to go all the way.”

COUGAR: “Well I don’t do that on the first date.”

ME: “Are you wet?”

COUGAR: “I might be… Check and see.”

I caressed her crotch to notice her transparent nylons (she wasn’t wearing any underwear) were dripping with secretions.

“Could we go back inside,” she asked repeatedly, but continued the passion.

She wanted to avoid having sex, but I could tell she was breaking. It was time to close.

As she finally dragged me back in the house, I caressed her body and made my move.

“Want me to go down on you?” I whispered to her.
COUGAR: “I’m not prepared for that. I smell like a bar.”

ME: “I like that.”

COUGAR: “Do you have a towel or something I could use to clean up?”

ME: “We’ll find you something.”

Cunnilingus: Part One

We headed up to Brian’s un-made up guest bedroom, she took all her clothes off, and I proceeded to establish foreplay, and ultimately go downstairs . It was evident by the way she screamed and contorted her body across the bare mattress that she enjoyed the oral accommodations I provided.

I have not met a woman who could resist my skills in the oral realm. Not to brag, but I eat box like a lesbian pornstar.

So provided a girl is well-kempt, I often like to initiate the french kiss of the crotch quickly because the benefits pay off in the end. As one of my earliest mentors always said, “eat em’ for twenty, then you could fuck em’ for two… That’s how you get the stud status.”

Plus I liked doing it. Her pussy was really nice. It was clean and smooth, soft and tight, with a sweet flavor. There wasn’t a hair to be found anywhere near it. As I finished, she snuggled up in the lone sheet.

ME: “Are you gonna return the favor?”

COUGAR: “I can’t believe you’d have to ask me.”

ME: “Well, you know.”

COUGAR: “Don’t worry I will, just let me sleep for a little bit.”

ME: “OK.”

Revenge

I had a deadline, so once she passed out around 4 a.m. I went downstairs — in the townhouse — to finish a column (the one you read last week – HYPE WHORE). After I’d emailed it to my editor I noticed the Cougar’s purse on the coffee table.

I opened it up, dug through some makeup, gum, and other various crap and found my twenty dollar bill, which I took back. Then I even grabbed a few stray ones, since I’d remembered she made me tip the coat check guy.

I was feeling good. Nobody was using me. I made sure her purse was in the order she left it, put it back, and crawled into bed next to the Cougar.

Human Vibrator

I started with the spoon, and lightly ran my hands up and down her body, gradually getting more and more intimate. Wet again. I was on my way to get what I had coming to me.

COUGAR: “Blindfold me.”

ME: “Really… OK.”

COUGAR: “Tie me to the bed.”

ME: “Anything for you, my love.”

Brian had recently moved in, and hadn’t done much unpacking so I grabbed pillow cases to fasten her arms to the headboard, and cover her eyes.

COUGAR: “Let me be your slave.”

ME: “What does that mean?”

COUGAR: “It means whatever you want.”

I pulled down my pants, crept up near her face, and pressed my hard cock against her lips.

COUGAR: “Get that away from my mouth.”

ME: “I thought you were my slave.”

COUGAR: “I want you to gag me, and go down on me.”

ME: “OK.”

Fuck. I thought I was supposed to be in control of this S and M session. She was calling all the shots.

I grabbed the tyrant’s juicy nylons, stuffed them into a ball, and shoved them in her mouth.

“Uggh,” she grimaced in disgust.

Somehow, I once again ended up eating pussy. This time, it was a marathon that went on for hours – orgasm, after orgasm, after orgasm.

When it comes to cunnilingus most girls I’ve known wanted me to stop after getting them off, but this bitch wanted to spray me again and again. She must’ve been very well hydrated.

I swirled my tongue around, bit the clit, fired my tongue up inside her, and repeated again and again, and again. I pulled it wide open and licked until I was out of saliva.

She had cum for what felt like the millionth time, lost her gag, and broken free of the loosely fastened pillow cases. I raised my head for air, hoping she’d finally suck my dick.

COUGAR: “Do you wanna get me off one more time?”

ME: “… Uggh… I guess.”

I thought I was her date, I thought we were equal partners, but she was using me like a human-vibrator with a never-ending charge.

As the sun shined in through the opened blinds, she began to pleasure herself a little bit. Nice.  I just sat back and watched as she manipulated her clit. My neck was sore and I needed oxygen. Plus it was sexy. She had a request.

COUGAR: “It would be hot if someone else was watching, like you’re friend was in here.”

ME: “Gimme a second.”

I walked out of the room, and sent Brian a summons.

Using a Wingman

“Brian could you come in here a second?” I yelled to him.

BRIAN: “What’s up?”

ME: “Just come.”

BRIAN: “Is everything ok?”

ME: “You need to come in here.”

BRIAN: “What happened?”

ME: “Just… I think you’re gonna wanna come in here!”

Finally Brian walked in, as the Cougar lay on the bed naked, using a sheet only for warmth. Her legs were spread eagle, as she held court with Brian and me.

“You get me off,” she looked to Brian. “You  watch,” she looked at me.

Brian apprehensively began to finger her, and he and I locked eyes with each other in utter amazement. Was this actually happening?

COUGAR: “Stop looking at each other. It’s gay.”

ME: “Okay.”

I burst out laughing.

COUGAR: “Stop laughing.”

ME: “It’s funny.”

“You’re like doing standup,” Brian told her.

I held back my laughter, while Brian continued. I lightly giggled again.

COUGAR: “I imagined this being a lot hotter.”

ME: “What?”

COUGAR: “Just get outta here so I could get off.”

ME: “Fine.”

I walked out of the room, downstairs into the kitchen, and grabbed my blackberry.

I stood over Brian’s shoulder holding my curve as I pretended to check email, send a text, or update my twitter, while in actuality I was capturing the sight of some morning muff diving.

Brian’s cargo shorts crept down exposing a classic repair-man’s crack as he diddled the cougar’s vagina in a medium-paced circular manner. The picture was amazing, and she had no idea.

I walked out of the room then came back in to get the reverse angle, with Brian’s eyes looking up at me as his face was at the center of the extended wishbone. The footage looked like she was giving birth to a baby with a very big head.

After Brian concluded his business, we realized no favors were being returned. What a selfish bitch! We were used!

On Trial

She sat on the couch naked, opened her purse, and sifted through.

“That twenty you gave me is missing,” she said. “Did you take it?”

How dare she accuse me?

ME: “No… I didn’t take it!”

COUGAR: “Don’t yell at me.”

ME: “I’m sorry, when you’re accusing me of stealing from you after I get you off fifteen times, I get a little fucken’ defensive!”

COUGAR: “Well where could it be? It was in here!”

ME: “You were drunk. It could be anywhere. It probably fell out.”

COUGAR: “I wasn’t that drunk. There’s no way I would’ve lost it.”

ME: “Sorry. I don’t know.”

COUGAR: “Will you give me another twenty?”

ME: “No.”

COUGAR: “Well my account’s gonna be overdrawn,” (she whined).

ME: “You charged your tab last night, right?”

COUGAR: “Yeah.”

ME: “It’ll take a few days to go through.”

COUGAR: “I need that twenty so I could pay my bills.”

ME: “Sorry.”

So we dropped her off at her car (we had driven home from the bar and she left her car at the club). By the way, she had a 2008 Mercedes C280 so I wasn’t too empathetic of her financial situation.

COUGAR: “Oh my God. I have a ten-dollar ticket. Last night was so expensive! Will you pay this?”

ME: “No, bye.”

I was done with the ungrateful bitch — I mean I enjoy providing oral, but who the fuck doesn’t return the favor? No class. So that was it.

We ended up finding her imitation-pearl earrings next to the bed, which I pocketed as a souvenir.

The next day Brian, who manages a chain restaurant in Erie, was visited by The Cougar at work. Stupidly, he had let her know his place of business, and his name.

COUGAR: “I left my pearl earrings. Could you find them and get them back to me?”

BRIAN: “I haven’t seen them.”

COUGAR: “Well could you look again, and get them back to me.”

BRIAN: “If I find them, I’ll give you a call.”

COUGAR: “Okay… And look again for that twenty dollars.”

Yeah, Brian never looked. I use the earrings to treasure the memory of the stood up.

In the end, since I stole her money, I was the whore and she was the john. It made me feel better.

If you haven’t already, read part one of this story at www.theweekender.com … Just click on bonus, then click WINGMAN CHRONICLES.

The door to whoredom.

As part of my brother’s Bachelor Party in Vegas, we got bottle service at Tao.

When we first got there, we barely turned around and already 3 girls decided to go up and sit in our booth and “flirt” with us… but for anybody who wasn’t desperate, our bitch radar was ringing off the chain. The Spider sense wasn’t just tingling, it was taking a dump. And yet as soon as we kicked them out for being leeches, another bachelorette group came in. They literally pranced in, single file line, sat on the couch, and immediately had this expectant look on their face for us to shower them with attention and give them free drinks. We showered them with attention alright: our bouncer’s attention, who told them to get the fuck out.

I’m really not sure who to blame for this state of affairs in the club. Is it girls, who use their looks and status to shamelessly whore themselves out for free drinks and a place to sit? Or is it the guys, who have to flaunt money and power just for girls to get attracted to them and believe that the girls are really interested in them? Although most of my rejection that night was due to horrid, bad, ugly, detesting game, I know that I could’ve gotten somewhere with certain girls by saying “HEY, I GOT VIP, LET’S DRINK”… but I would hate myself if I had to rely on that. Saying that would be like saying, “Hey, since I can’t seduce you with my words or my looks, can I just throw money at you until you have sex with me?” It’s pathetic.

The only success encounter I had was marginally okay. I talked to this girl in the booth across from us, said hi and tried to initiate conversation. But the noise of the club and our poor hearing made turned it into a Lil’ Jon single. “WHAT? WHAT? OKAY!” Not only was it already really hard to sustain conversation but she didn’t give me a lot to work with. I felt like we were just going through the motions and couldn’t number close.

The lessons I want to take out of it are this:

1. Bottle service is for chumps and bitches.
2. My game sucks. I need to learn how to initiate and sustain conversation. I actually unintentionally gamed a floorperson at REI but it’s so easy to work with people who work there because they initiate it.
3. Although day game will be my #1 priority, and I tend to dislike clubs and bars, they’re still the best way to get lots of encounters in a very short time and I may need to exploit that.

As for the rest of night, we definitely got stories to tell and that made it worth it. In a nutshell: Strawberries, Cockblocking, White Girls, and the Ultimate Wingman.

Video Intro:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMo6o0BtFG8

—

Back in the day, last month, the other day or last night, you and a friend probably had to come to an agreement. Who’s going to “talk to” the friend? For men, the guy that talks to the friend is called the “wingman.” I have no idea if there is an equivalent for women. Regardless, if there is or isn’t, decisions have to made. Some times they have to be made on a moment’s notice with little or no information.

Upon first glance, it may appear that the “wing” (man or woman) is getting a raw deal. But, there are a lot factors like individual tastes, needs, number of drinks, lighting, etc., that can flip things all around. The same can be said about buying technology products or services. Everything isn’t for everybody. You need to know what everything means, what your preferences are and what’s really important in the long run.

Here are a few quick morsels to munch on, some new and some refreshers:

1. Internet Speed: Megabytes per second (MBps) and Megabits per second (Mbps) aren’t the same. It will take 8 Megabits (Mb) to equal 1 Megabyte (MB). Hard drives and RAM are sold in MB’s but your internet speed is sold in Mb’s (per second).  Nowadays, shoot for at least 5 Mbps (download).
2. TV: Which is better cable or satellite? There’s no clear winner. As I have said before, it depends on your preferences. Each has it’s pros and cons.
3. Plasma or LCD: First consider the size you would like. Plasmas usually don’t go lower than 37″ and LCD’s usually get relatively expensive above 50″. Then, consider your budget. If your budget and size requirements fall into the overlap between the LCD & plasma, you now need to consider the type of room it will be in and what you will be using it for.
4. 720p or 1080p: Yes, 1080p is “better” than 720p. However, 720p produces a great picture. 1080p is much more common since I wrote “Should You Potty Train Your New HDTV?” If it is an option, you can get a great deal on a great HDTV.
5. iPhone or BlackBerry: If you hate AT&T, the decision is easy. The iPhone is only on AT&T. So, the iPhone is out. Otherwise, go play with an iPhone and see if you can handle not having a physical keyboard. If it’s for business, talk to your company’s IT department (that could be you) and see which do they support.
6. Palm Pre: The Pre is Palm’s last ditch effort to become relevant again in the smartphone game. The Treo had a good run but Palm rode that horse too long. They got squashed by the iPhone and BlackBerry. Fortunately, Palm finally came back strong! It’s only on Sprint but it’s worth a look.
7. Netbooks: “Netbook” is nothing but a marketing term. It’s still a computer, a small computer. Just like a golf cart is just a small car. A golf cart can get you around but it’s not built for heavy lifting or being you primary vehicle. You make significant sacrifices. The same applies for netbooks.
8. Megapixels: If “netbook” is a marketing term, “megapixels” is a marketing campaign. Do you remember what I said about megapixels?
9. Mac or Windows: I’ll make this simple. Go with what you’re comfortable with. If you know nothing about computers, go with a Mac. If you know what you’re doing or have IT support, go with Windows. Generally, Mac for Home. Windows for work.
10. Coke or Pepsi: I don’t drink soda so I can’t help you on this one.

“A hug is a great gift – one size fits all, and it’s easy to exchange.”

—

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The Wingman is your trusted partner in crime. Always building you up in front of people and your backup in tough situations.

The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish, and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper, and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord, when I lay my vengeance upon thee..” Ezekiel 25:17 (Performance by Samuel L. Jackson)

The Wingman is your  friend and ally. He should be willing to take one for the team. His goal is to keep the friends of the female of interest occupied through conversation, while you engage the women.  A good wingman can be boiled down to this fundamental principle – he will ALWAYS MAKE YOU LOOK BETTER. He does this by talking about how great you are to her, how you rescued those little kids from a burning school bus and how you take your nieces out for dinner every Valentine’s Day…

No matter what personal issues may be going on between you and the wingman, ALWAYS speak HIGHLY of your friends in front of her. Making him look bad will only make you look bad too. The antithesis to the Wingman IS the cockblock. You can read about the types of cockblocks and how to deal with the cock block in Man Law #28. Here’s a good article on being a good Wingman.

There are plenty of resources on the internet on the Art Of the Wingman, here are only a few:

• Urban Dictionary: The Wingman
• Choosing a Wingman
• How To Be A Good Wingman
• An Article published in FHM on “The Art of the Wingman“
• A Fun Youtube Video Series:  The Wingman – Part 1.

Inspired by a few friendship blogs I’ve recently read, here and elsewhere…and of course my own current situation…

We all have what we call friends…I know we all serve different purposes in each other’s lives….I’ve been one or more and have had one or more and could probably list a hundred more types….can you add to my list?

The hang-ons ~ the ones that won’t leave you alone and give you breathing room

Frenemies ~keep your friends close and your enemies even closer…

Cooler than me friends ~I’ve had a few people who are friends with me and I seriously wonder why…in my mind, they are way smart, funny, attractive and certainly way cooler than me.  We are friends, and I am grateful, but you always hope you can live up to their expectations and coolness factor…or perhaps they feel the need to be surrounded with way less cooler than them peeps to up their coolness factor…

The feel good friend ~the friend that makes you feel good about yourself…yeah they may have more faults or drama going on in their lives, the more the better, it serves to help you forget about your crap…

The wingman or wing woman ~she’ll go to the bathroom with you and hold your purse so you won’t have to put it on the floor…of course they are there for other purposes….

Secret bitches ~don’t want to be your friend; they just want to know you enough to make fun of you behind your back….these types are typically found in work environments or mommy groups….

The drinking buddy ~self explanatory…

The lovable loser ~no matter how bad you have it, they’ll always have it worse…if you get a chill, they’ll get pneumonia. If you get a cold, they’ll come down with avian flu, they cramp harder and longer than you, they bleed more…you get the point…

The mentor ~this friend has their act together, what a great inspiration, you just want to be like them…they dress well, are held in high esteem by others and have achieved success in ways you can only dream of…they are a fountain of good advice…they’ve been where you want to go and know all the pitfalls you’re likely to encounter along the way…

The opposite sex friend ~ your tour guide into the freakish inner workings of the male mind (or female mind), they may be a cousin, or a childhood friend or coworker, neighbor, roommate, or whatever…

The connected friend – need a mechanic? This friend knows one, good and cheap…in short, they know someone everywhere and are always willing to hook you up — just make sure to repay the favor.

So, I initially really got knee deep back into this blog because my now fiancee was moving and I needed something to essentially take my mind off of him being so far away. Now that I have friends that are finishing their PhD’s (and are no longer wannabe graduate students, but actual legit docs); I’m starting to realize that a lot of what this blog means to me, is that everything that has ever been stuck in my brain is allowed a place to release, take flight, and say screw it.

Like my soon to be father in law, he doesn’t get it, it doesn’t make sense to him why have a blog, why write it all down? To me, in my mind, that seems like a real simpleton type view. That you’re just not complex enough to do things.

So, alas…my girl Kristen is moving. She’s a local like me, has lived here her entire life like me, she finished her PhD and is moving to Richmond. As much as I’m sad for her to go, the night will be and always has been very interesting when she’s involved. Tonight was no different. We went out to Little Havana tonight for some goofing off, drinking, looking cute, and hanging out. Cute guy rolls in with his buds and some chickies and I gotta tell you, for someone that’s engaged, he was hot. Like wicked hot. I figured giving the Orioles jersey that he was local, and just was gazing, looking, enjoying the art of being female. So, it’s funny…I never EVER had this kind of nerve when I was single. But, given the fact that I had two single friends I was like screw it, if he comes over I’ll hide the ring and talk to him.

Then I thought…the guy would be kinda pist about this. So, I was straight up, he was of course disappointed, but he also gave the vibe of trying just a tad too hard. I’m sure that he was bummed that he got the nerve to talk to a chick and she’s engaged, but I gotta tell you that it felt good that I got a cute guy not only to compliment me (which he of course ruined later) but to hit on one of my friends till of course he screwed it up.

I was proud of myself, I couldn’t help but think, “I still got it.”

Meanwhile, Michael Vick was signed by the Philadelphia Eagles. As much as I have grown up as one of the fans of the two best teams in football, the Washington Redskins and the Baltimore Ravens, I gotta tell you that the rumors of those teams signing him made a lump gather in my throat. I’m not a hard core animal activist, I eat meat, I’m not narly into it. But, I gotta tell you, when the whole dog killing thing came in, it like made my skin crawl. Denis Leary said it beautifully, “A guy that is cruel to dogs, should be put in a kennel, lie in his own sh*t and know what it feels like to have a collar with someone attacked to the other end pulling you from one end of the room to the other. And the motherf*cker should get wacked by a belt, or a hammer and see how it feels.”