Until you’ve had sex with a woman, time is against you; once you’ve been with her, it’s your ally. Closely aligned with the notion of the romantic is the feeling of urgency. For some reason, things moving quickly are more romantically compelling than a drawn-out, methodical courtship. From first meeting, to planning the drink, to meeting at the lounge, and now, to the first physicality, timing is crucial. Move too fast and you startle her (although you’ve be surprised just how fast one can move in a frenetic city like NYC); move too slowly, and you become a yawner, forever resigned to the hell of the “friends zone”.
A standard timeline would be meeting, call or text the next day saying hi and setting the drink date for 2 days hence. Time between initial meeting and drink should never be more than 5 days; you should always try your best to fuck her after that first night, as well:
A woman will forgive an overly aggressive guy more readily than a passive milquetoast.
The former clearly desires her (of which she is perpetually insecure), the latter seemingly does not. A woman cannot bear a repeat of a situation in which she questions her desirability. So go for it. By the way, guys, stop telling yourselves, not a little patronizingly, that you are “preying” on that innocent girl; that making a move so soon would be untoward:
A woman rarely, if ever, is unaware of the romantic implications of a given situation.
Women are so much more prepared, from an early age, to deal with and understand sex, than are we men. It is a constant part of their biology because of menstruation, and giving birth is arguably the most important fact of their entire existence. If you think they are naïve, think again. Many times I’ve considered a situation in retrospect and thought how much of a dolt I’d been to have missed the signs: it was late at night, we were alone, she was looking longingly at me, and her posture was upright, confident and ready. Everything was great, except for the fact that I couldn’t make the move because we’d just met that afternoon, or it was the cousin of so-an-so, etc.
Two stories illustrate the point. When I was 16 or so, I was at this French summer day-camp picnic in Topanga Canyon in LA and several of us took the car to the beach. Everyone got out except the cute female driver and me. I was in the passenger seat and we were sitting in the car on the side of the Pacific Coast Highway on a warm summer afternoon with a gorgeous view. I had a hunch this girl liked me, and then, get this – she reached into the glove compartment to get lipstick. I sit there like a fool while she slowly circles this stick around her lips. I had to ask may buddy later what her actions meant. Retarded!
The second story happened 2 years ago, here in the City. I worked for an investment manager in this tall apartment building (we worked from his beautiful home), and I met a very sexy girl in the deli below. She gave me her number, etc. Turns out she was a dentist, didn’t leave for work till late in the morning, and yes, she’d love it if I would bring some tea by at 9am when I got to work. So I did, a few times. Only problem was we’d sit next to each other on her couch, very close, sipping our hot teas, talking bullshit and I could feel the tension and desire so much I was sweating, and my heart was beating. But I kept telling myself, “I can’t grab this girl and kiss her, and suck on those luscious tits, and stick my tongue in her pussy because it’s only 9am.” Turns out people have sex before noon in NYC. I eventually took her to dinner, etc. Later I did come over late-night and we got in bed, but the energy was flat, and nothing happened. Lesson? Do it when you feel it. Lisa G. is my dentist today, and I still go out to see her in Brooklyn. We have a laugh about those mornings. I once asked if she would have slugged me if I had made a move one morning. She laughed, “It takes a lot more than that to upset me.” There you go.
