Post: #1

There she was.

I spotted her across the floor early in the evening; beautiful, positively so. She had a little bit of awkwardness about her character at times, but not in her dancing. Her motions were graceful, the tension in her arms just so.

I ignored her for the moment. She was all the way over there, and I was here.

She'd stay all night, at least until they kicked us out of here. This I knew as surely as the sun set in the west every day. She was a dancer, in the honeymoon phase of her dancing where it's all you want to do.

That's why I dumped her. She, 23, beautiful. Didn't want kids. Fun. I dumped her. We got along well, she usually got my sense of humor and had one of her own to match. We kissed well. I dumped her. I liked her a lot. She liked me. We'd been seeing each other for a few months. I dumped her.

Busy, busy, she was, as most attractive young women are these days. We'd not seen each other out for nearly two weeks, and the last time was an event with her friends. Always this, or that. Busy with multiple jobs, or whatever else. Facebook being the devil, of course, she couldn't help but post about how she was looking forward to dancing that evening. Two weeks. I really liked her.

I had to dump her. Leave time in your life for me, or don't. But one of those options doesn't work for me.

I hated doing it. She was nearly the prettiest girl I'd ever dated, and seemingly one of the most compatible girls I'd ever taken out to boot. Our conversation was a seamless flow of humor, teasing and intellectual talk. I liked her mind.

Two weeks. I was unhappy.

I fucked another girl that night. Drove three hours to go see her in the shitty April weather. over a mountain pass with rear wheel drive in the snow. Got a hotel room. Pinned her down by her wrists. A wild one, she. She liked the forcible stuff, the type that makes you wish you had a signed and notarized consent form. She brought a toy. She forgot it - left it right there in the hotel room. "Buenos dias, senorita. Did you clean room 328?" "Si, senor," the cleaning lady would say, muttering an oath under her breath to Mother Mary and all of the saints.

But I drove home the next morning empty. I missed her. Not my fuck kitten from the night before. The girl. THAT girl. You always want what you can't have. I knew this, knew my reactions and feelings on the matter were universally bullshit. My brain, my hind brain that evolved fifty million years ago or whenever pussy became valuable to mankind, was trying to deceive me into its own self-ruin. A traitorous bastard, your brain can be. "More alcohol", it demands while your liver is dissolving into a charred lump of flesh. Your brain is a lying deceiving beast of an organ, and should be ignored at all costs.

I missed my ex, but what could I do?

Fast forward some months. Wroclaw came and went, as I wrote of earlier. And with the sensation of being unshackled from the strong desire to pursue American women came a sense of ennui. The girl still held a place in my heart, a little ember kindled when I would see her at dance. And we would dance. God willing, we danced well together.

I had racked up a few more notches, a few I wasn't proud of. The juice still wasn't worth the squeeze. Or was it? Obviously someone is getting laid here in my city. It just really wasn't me, at least well. I was doing something wrong, I knew. But I still haven't quite nailed it down yet.

Then the news hit. I was getting laid off.

The timing was as good for that as could be. I'd recently put my condo on the market and found a buyer within days, for a scandalous profit. It helped me recover from my enormous credit card debt facilitated by Wroclaw and a number of other situations besides.

Now I could pursue my dream.

Two months have passed. I've been heads down on my own work, on writing and music and a number of other personal projects. The time has passed productively; I'm inches away from releasing my first novel, after five years of work (and learning how to write) - just waiting on the cover artist to finish her work. Our third album is nearly complete as well, after a month of marathon writing sessions that often stretched late into the night. And I have nearly complete freedom.

But complete freedom wasn't realized until today. I'd been in contact with dontuan for this whole time I've been back. He's already headed back to Wroclaw, on a student visa for the 2014 school year. I've always wanted to go back to Wroclaw, and talking about our times together there and his experiences kept the fire burning brighter than it ought to, at least by anyone else's imagination. After all, America is the promised land, the house on the hill. The emblem of human achievement and unparalled personal freedom. The great and shining ark of civilization.

Except when it's not.

Today was absolute freedom. I decided, at long last, to make the jump. Writing, music, I hoped to a God I didn't believe in that that was where I was meant to be. Poland gave me time. Lots of time, opportunity. And now, absolute freedom.

There she was, an American woman, mercurial, pretty. Untameable? Marriage material? Who knew. Certainly it took a better man than me, anyway. She worked the door for a shift that night. I ignored her then. She walked by me a few times without making eye contact. I let her go.

At long last we locked eyes, and she hustled over to me. "Could I ask you for a dance?" she asked, with utter sincerity in her voice. My malaise melted, and I opened my arm to let her take me at the elbow.

The song was fast, bouncy, and we had a fun and unserious dance to a tune unsuitable for closeness and sexuality. I drew her in nonetheless, our noses touching once or twice, before pushing her back out to open dance range. She smiled and laughed, her eyes flashing that same intense look she had when we kissed, months ago.

At the close of the dance I drew her in again, and kissed her on the side of the forehead. "I'm moving to Poland in December," I said.

Post: #2

I'm going to use this to chronicle the runup for anyone who's interested in reading the writing that I do, if it's permitted, as well as for life in Wroclaw when I make it there. I realize it's pretty early, but if it's not a problem I'll be putting out lots of writing probably. So there's that.

Of course, obviously only hours after I finally decide to go and start telling everyone I'm leaving, I meet a really nice and mildly attractive girl that same night (at the same dance), we have a wonderful conversation, and I'm taking her out on Tuesday after some really nice connecting conversation. She asked questions, touched me a bit, smiled, and was enthusiastic to see me. It might have been the best conversation I'd had with an American girl in months. So, fuck my timing.

I do have an out - I'm looking for work now. If I get a job that pays 'fuck you' money I'm going to have to bite the bullet and stay. I had a recruiter throw a $90k gig in my face that I might not be quite qualified for. If I got it, that would be me basically banking three Wroclaw trips a month with my current minimal expenditures. I don't know how I could turn that down no matter how much I can't stand most American women.

Post: #3

aphelion,

By all means share. I enjoy your writing style and am a big fan of Poland.

I agree with you, if you could land that gig and stack some cash, would be pretty awesome.

Post away and thanks!

Post: #4

Booked my one-way flight today. As for myself, if I get slammed with a job that I can't refuse, I can always book a one-way return flight. But in any event, I'm jetting out of here on December 26th.

Post: #5

(09-09-2013 08:05 AM)aphelion Wrote:  I had a recruiter throw a $90k gig in my face that I might not be quite qualified for. If I got it, that would be me basically banking three Wroclaw trips a month ....

I don't know how I could turn that down no matter how much I can't stand most American women.

Same reason I'm in the US-- I'm realizing I should value the ability to make money here, and the freedom to go to better places for fun.

Best case in the USA I can make $100 per hour, in someplace like Ukraine ( where I don't plan on going again) maybe $10.

I have heard of expats making 50-60/hr in Moscow however, tutoring rich kids. Guy was fluent in Russian and had been establishing himself for years.

Post: #6

Just remembered something similar happened to me WRT travel.

I bought a one way ticket to EE, then when I decided to come back to USA one way/RT was about 900/1100.

So I just came back and when I was pursuing work in the US I just never went for the return trip. It's only a $200 loss.

Post: #7

Paulina's message came unexpectedly this morning. I suppose it shouldn't have.

We'd stayed in touch, messaging each other about once a week or so. She initiated far more often than I expected her to, and her sweet and gentle nature always brought me back to her bedroom in her shared flat, and the memories of gently coaxing her into becoming a willing and submissive lover. My responses back to her were probably too earnest and heartfelt; if anything, she was just as guilty of coaxing me into vulnerability as I was of her.

Time had changed my outlook. The ticket stayed purchased, of course. A close call with a job nearly turned the Wroclaw Gambit into a vacation in a winter wonderland. But I bricked the final interview, and my life plans remained, for the moment, set as before.

Paulina was doing well. Life was a little too crazy for her just now, and she was just getting over being sick. She was excited to have me coming. I couldn't help but appreciate the simple joy of being wanted. If she could just hold out for a few months, I'd have a nice warm friend to share a bed in Poland with while the snow was still fresh on the ground.

And somehow, things had changed here in Seattle. I had girls on the rotation now, at least for the moment - something I never thought I'd ever find myself saying. One was a wild and crazy fuck kitten that I could savagely beat in bed, much to our collectively twisted delight - and a good girl to boot, one who cooked and made sure I got plenty to eat. The other, a gal I'd lusted after for years.

And a third was looming on the horizon, another old contact that finally seemed to be panning out. And what a change I'd undergone in four years. She waxed loquacious over the old me - the sweet, kind of dorky guy that tried to flirt with her while she was at work. I asked her if she ever wanted to fuck the old me. The new me found himself knuckles deep in her a few short hours later; old me probably called new me an asshole somewhere in quantum space.

If I was earnest, I was also ruthless. Or was it the other way around? I had good vibes, good intentions, and plenty of charm. And things were finally panning out here in Seattle. What was I leaving for?

Over my shoulder loomed the girl I still pined after. She, both dream and nightmare, the crackle of sparks and a rushing river in my head. I'd danced with her again that day, saving the best of my energy for our raw and kinetic connection. Part of me still stumbled over the words as we briefly talked, part of me still felt like an actor on stage struggling with an unfamiliar script when I stood in front of her. The afterglow had barely died from the sheer carnality of the previous week, and here I was again, as much a babbling fool as I had ever been in front of anyone.

It was time to leave. She was dancing by now, with some uncoordinated schlep unworthy to even pronounce her name let alone lead her in time to the music. Perhaps I could wait, perhaps I could talk to her one more time before I left. Perhaps we could plan something, on a Wednesday or something when we didn't have anything going on. If she wasn't busy, that is.

No. There was nothing to say. Not today.

Post: #8

Damn you write well!

Thanks, good way to start the morning.

Post: #9

Man, Aphelion, very nice writing dude. I will be following your posts, and hopefully your trip to Wroclaw in December. Keep it up and I hope you find your success with both the music and the novel!

Post: #10

I was on the hustle.

It was early in the evening at dance, and by some stroke of statistical luck or divine intervention there were plenty of girls waiting on the sidelines. True to form I basked in the attention, rarely deigning to offer a dance, usually waiting to be propositioned myself. Of course, I always said yes; the charade was my filtering mechanism for screening out the girls who weren’t very interested.

My fuck kitten was there as well, surveying the crowd. Our erstwhile relationship had progressed, at our oddly mutual behest. We’d spent several days together on vacation the prior week, and had only returned to town the day before; and we had standing plans for the day after. Our relationship’s forthcoming expiration loomed ominously over our time together, seeming to only drive us closer together. I was leaving, after all, and attachment would be disastrous; and of course the very scent of disaster helped that malignant flower bloom.

She was a little bored, and I flicked back to her now and again to keep her entertained while the limp-wristed males of Seattle (I refuse to call them men) dribbled in like the seventh orgasm in an afternoon. That’s when I spotted her.

She’d showed up a bit late, but there she was. Stars in her hair, light in her eyes. The young woman that drove me to Poland in the first place—the very epicenter of my brave madness—was dancing to a blues number with some faceless twit. They’re all faceless twits when they’re face to face with your star-crossed lover, after all.

With the influx of penis carriers, and my fuck kitten now occupied by a more briskly filled dance card, I turned my attention to the crowd, my eye hopelessly catching her. And to my best I ignored her, studiously avoiding eye contact with her while being sure to entertain a pair of new potential conquests. While one—a complete neophyte to dance, with big brown eyes and an excited smile—seemed to eventually get skeeved out by some persistent and awkward attention from the peanut gallery (my guess), the other—a pleasant girl, if plain and slightly thick—found herself enthused at my proposition, and we agreed to make plans.

I ran scenarios through my head. Would she approach me to ask for a dance? What would I say? What did I want out of things now?

I’d made a rather discomforting realization earlier in the week. I’d been hoping to reconcile with her since at least September, according to our infrequent text conversations, and she’d always been ‘busy’. Busy, certainly, but not so busy she couldn’t go to social dance; the straw that broke the camel’s back to end our stunted relationship. If you are not her priority, you are her option; and apparently I was not a terribly enticing option.

A mere thirty-six hours had passed since I’d last savagely violated my fuck kitten’s moral dignity, and the scent of sex lingered in my head long past the hot shower that had succeeded it. Or perhaps it hadn’t been so savage that time. We had lately been prone to deep eye contact, holding hands, and the long and lingering kisses of besotted lovers.

I was sated; desirous, but filled up with the bounty of life, living briefly in the acceptance of plenty rather than beneath the gnawing void of lack.

My fuck kitten and I planned to show ourselves out early, and perhaps that’s why my paramour did not approach. Had she merely bided her time and hoped to catch me later in the evening, as she had last time, an encouraging twinkle in her eye? Had she picked up on my growing distance, and held herself away? Or had she finally found respite from my unwanted affections, and relished her newfound autonomy?

Whichever way, it didn’t matter.

Standing on the precipice of departure, I flicked the screen on my iPhone to unlock it, and did a Facebook search for her name. A swipe later, I quietly severed our connections.

Post: #11

I'd hit a snag.

Somehow, some way, our relationship had grown. As our time wore thin the urgency of our embraces strengthened. Our once mischievous glances grew forlorn and wanting; our fingers would trace curls upon each other's palms like wisps of smoke in still air. At night we would lay next to each other in bed as though starved for each other, her leg slid over mine.

The deadline of my depature hung overhead as though suspended by a burning rope. The days came crushed together, narrow and hurried, and my impending departure loomed ever nearer. We'd last seen each other before Christmas, and the few flickering holy days afterward were wasted on family, at least as far as the crawling gloom inside believed it.

At the last hour before my flight I secured a moment to visit her again, and she leapt upon it, meeting me at the lobby of her apartment building. She clung to me, clutching my chest, her body jittering with emotion.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my lips touching her hair.

"It's okay," she whispered back.

I visited her for a few minutes, sitting and holding hands with her, barely able to kiss her under the weight of the moment. She struggled for words, trying vainly to find levity amid the melancholy. I ran my hands over the smooth skin of her cheek.

I'd told her that 'we'd talk', that the future was wide open and who knew what could come of it. And though I'd always been sincere, at this moment I'd meant it more than I ever thought I could.

It had been an interesting few months. I'd discovered the secret; that words could charm, that honesty could beguile. And by now the terror of loneliness that had plagued my youth held no more sway over me; indeed, I'd literally dated around so much over the preceding few months that I'd neglected nearly every other pursuit for want of time and energy. Success, at last.

But what was success? Notches in the bedpost proved satisfying, but less than ultimately fulfilling. The magic of seduction enticed, but faded away in the morning light. And what did any of this mean when compared against the tear-glittered brown eyes of this little one beneath me--what greater worth could any of those milestones hold than that?

I write this on the plane, high above the clouds between Reykjavik and Frankfurt, clouds that now wash between pink and blue and the lighter shades between. I can't tell whether we're over land or sea. And now the future, at once now a similarly indistinct wash of colors, proves now more in question than ever before.

Post: #12

Great writing as usual. Good luck in Poland! You have an open ended return? Be well man. Szczęśliwego nowego roku! (thank goodness for google translator)

Post: #13

I swear, I've met way more dudes dropping pua lingo in the last 3 days then I have in Seattle in the preceding month.

Post: #14

When I was in Wroclaw, there were some Polish dudes watching some other guys that I hooked up running game. The Polish guys were also running game. So it is expected, unfortunately.

Post: #15

Thoroughly enjoyable posts aphelion!
All the best in Poland! Start a blog man as your writing style is among the best I've seen.

Happy new year!

Post: #16

Some American dude used the phrase 'day game' at the hostel talking to me while I was reading stock updates. I cringed.

Post: #17

The Rynek is like a day game boot camp these days.

Post: #18

I'm feeling less flowery and eloquent over the last few days, but that's not to say that it's bad. I'll just knock out the updates.

Spent the first few days at the hostel basically just chilling. Met up with my contact dontuan from before and we hung out a bit, then I mostly slept. Stayed in on Saturday night to watch the fights. Anderson Silva's leg snapping was a bittersweet moment, the tragedy of Silva's storied career likely coming to a close in such a gruesome fashion was tempered by the fairly large bet I had on Weidman. Sunday was a recovery day, and a sleeping pill brought me to being right as rain in the morning.

Monday brought a date with one of the girls from before, Agnieszka. I reviewed the previous thread and couldn't find mention of her, but she's a tall slender gal with a doll face and a bit too much makeup. Our date went very well, however, and her English is very good- couldn't get her home that night but we made plans to go out on NYE.

New Year's Eve brought a quick swoop through Magda's NYE party at a local bar down here, but the noise and energy was a bit too much for me and I bounced back to the hostel to recuperate while waiting for Agnieszka. She popped over at about 10, and we hustled over to dontuan's house party that was SLAMMIN'. All types of girls - if nothing else, the man brings the bitches.

We all trooped out to Rynek to watch the fireworks, and market square became a noisy, chaotic mass of revelers spraying champagne, bottles breaking and the pop and report of pyrotechnics, and then back to dontuan's party for a bit before heading over to Agnieszka's place. We saw a melee on the way over, which was fabulous, and even managed to secure a cab somehow. Lucky break.

Stayed the night at Agnieskza's. Life was good.

I missed my American girl.

Post: #19

My date for the evening was a little hairier than my usual companions.

"Dzien dobry," I introduced myself, not particularly sure what to say. "Poprozse baking soda."

At the risk of sounding like quirky niche market fanfiction, I'll drop the pretense of storyline and merely recount the facts. Roosh is pretty much exactly how he presents himself, although he's a bit more personable and friendly than he comes across in his videos. He's straightforward, speaks very directly, and has the ability to go into expositions long enough to where you have to make a mental note to remember what you were going to say. He refused my offer of dinner (beta) on me and bought his own burger after much hemming and hawing.

I'd expected to meet Paulina that night at 9:30, but she demurred for a day, and so I let the evening carry on with Roosh. We discussed the usual stuff - I was basically like livecasting the manosphere for a few hours - and we talked a bit about our observations and life in EE compared to the US. I compared Seattle life to 'bizarre world', and he noted some of my up-to-date observations about the quirky polyamory trend sweeping my home city. He listened at length to my experience with the girl from home without pretense.

One thing he said particularly stuck with me - 'It's not that you have to never change your plans for a woman, it's that you can't tell her you're changing your plans for her. It has to be something else that's doing it to you.' I stopped dead in my thoughts, mulling that one over. 'I never thought of that,' I conceded.

We parted ways at 10, later than I had expected, and later than if Paulina's rescheduling hadn't shifted my evening plans. I conferred briefly with dontuan afterward at a bar on Ruska, but my energy was failing me--Agneszieska's bed had been the most uncomfortable surface I'd ever attempted sleep on.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

Post: #20

Well this just took an interesting turn.

Post: #21

(01-03-2014 05:20 AM)aphelion Wrote:  Well this just took an interesting turn.

How cruel! Now I am totally curious, like a cliffhanger. Anyway, hope you are well Aphelion.

Post: #22

Game recognized? Stone cold square pimp game?

Beta? Oneitis?

What is it, when a girl books a flight halfway across the world to see you? And when you want her to do it?

This may become a much less interesting thread.

Post: #23

aphelion,

If I may offer a couple of comments.

If it makes you happy, no need to ponder the other stuff.

A lot of guys here talk about frame control, alpha, all that stuff. It all has a place, maybe. But I think in the end happiness without harming others is the goal of a lot people. Maybe some want happiness while hurting others, but I think most just want to be happy in a pure way.

If you are happy, well done!

PS: one less predator when I go back

Post: #24

I'll expound on it more a bit later. I'm well aware of what's going on and I'm most certainly not getting dragged into anything I don't want.

But I'm chilling right now at the hostel and don't feel like typing much about it

Post: #25

If the girl paid for the flight halfway across the world to see you, it is excellent for you, it means you have all the good skills