paul janka's tale getting physical and when to leave

Not being creepy with touch, and when to make the move home. Some really useful practical advice.

Face-to-Face Sitting across from each other is sometimes unavoidable, but is often a hard gulf to breach. There is the obvious benefit of eye contact, especially when setting is dim and candle-lit. Also, there is the forced, and a bit desperate, arms-across-the-tabletop, in which the woman gently massages your forearms. This can work, and give you a sense of her touch. What’s most important about physical contact, of course, is that it makes the woman relaxed.

That is, unless you’re a jumpy, jittery motherfucker, in which case put down this book. So, she can kneed into your forearms, which feels great, meanwhile talking to you about her _____________ (cat, brother, father, roommate) and all the while relaxing to a point where she’ll open up more, physically. There’s also the footsie angle, but I’m not sure that’s still in vogue.

Most men have a better side, or think they do. Mine is to my left; I think my profile on that side is better-looking. Choose a side and play it. In general, because I like my left better, I like to have the girl sit to my left. That way, I come from a point of strength.

What this position lacks in visual intimacy, it makes up for in physical intimacy. From the side you can extend for the old arm-around-shoulder. You can talk in a low voice because you’re telling here something “discreet and private” when in truth you just want to breathe warmly on her ear and neck to excite her.

Thighs and crotch are now within reach and can be grazed and palmed casually as you get up, sit down, lean-in. This stuff sounds too detailed, but it’s crucial to condition the Pavlovian female to expect physical closeness from you. To playboys it comes naturally – just go to some real hot restaurant or bar and watch some stud with a beautiful girl on each side. It’s all jaw, shoulder, palm and breasts, in a sea of hair. Women like to be touched. You don’t initiate here, and you’ll be labeled a psycho when you reach for her pussy in the cab or after 3 minutes of formal bullshit back at you apartment.

So, when to leave? I’ve been experimenting with this part of the system. I guess it’s the one area that’s still a “work-in-progress.” Knowing when to leave, or said another way, when to stay put and have another round, is crucial. Ultimately, it’s a judgment call, but I’ve recently tried to see how soon I can pull it in the name of research and economy (another drink for her is $12 and for you another fucking glass of seltzer water). Obviously, more liquor makes things easier – to a point. I am usually out of the lounge after two drinks, sometimes three. I imagine if I held longer I would encounter a couple of problems I avoid: a soused girl that stinks of booze and is too uncoordinated to play and may possibly boot, or amore cautious girl that takes note of her drunkenness and becomes guarded, and suspicious, knowing her resolve is down.

I would counsel three drinks and then split. I’ve taken girls out and they’ve betrayed their horniness by sucking down the drinks with fervor. I’ve also had to stand by and bullshit while a girl nursed her drink for an hour – brutal. Also, recognize that you control the tab, as you’re paying, and can cut it off, or walk from the date at any time. Last week I had a drink with this Korean girl – cute, from the supermarket, digits in literally 30 seconds – and after one drink I laid it out. I don’t recommend this level of candor, but I told her that we’d had one drink and did she want to join at my place for a second. She demurred, and as I had a buddy with a promising situation downtown, I told her that if we were going to have a second drink (on me, of course) and talk more of the same – work, life in New York, relationships – I wasn’t interested. This was a “maybe” girl and I made the call. Carlos and I had fun downtown that night.

One last note on leaving the lounge, the last neutral public place for you both. I often say I know of a place where we can have another drink, and that I’m tired of this joint. They agree and ask “where?” Here you should be vague, because she may want to map out the night along her blueprint, which may involve the following number of hummers: zero. Tell her it’s a spot uptown and then walk out, hail a cab and pile in.