If you’ve ever seen movies or TV shows about Las Vegas, then I’m sure you’re familiar that Vegas is a lit-up pussy-palace where you roll the dice, win thousands of dollars at the tables, and have threesomes with women of all flavors. At least that’s what they want you to think. The truth is, Vegas is a place that rewards those who arrive with lots of money, and lots of cocaine. I had (have) neither of the two.
When my friend called me months earlier to ask if I’d go to Vegas to attend his bachelor party, I was honestly a little hesitant. I don’t like Las Vegas. I don’t like the ridiculous 100+ degree summer weather. I don’t like spending my entire day in air conditioned, vaguely smokey casinos. I don’t like all the hype surrounding Vegas, made famous through movies like the Hangover or Swingers. Basically, Vegas is the New Years Eve of U.S. destinations. Lots of build-up, which usually doesn’t pan out. I had been to Vegas two times already, mainly to play poker, and I can’t say it’s one of my favorite places. Too artificial. Depressingly filled with thousands of sorry saps who spent their paycheck on overpriced food, women, and blackjack tables. No thanks.
BUT - I decided to go on the trip anyway. A few of my close friends would all be there, we would have a beautiful suite at the Aria hotel and Casino, and this would be my first bachelor party.
If you’ve never been to Vegas, I can summarize the women in one word: TITS. The amount of large, round, shining, (fake) tits in this town is unreal. The frustration of being surrounded by tits that you’re not grabbing can be felt, no pun intended, after one day there. The heat, the tits by the pool, it gets your heart thumping like an 808 machine.
I partied with my friends for a couple of nights, our suite was large, we drank a lot of booze, I got hit on by a married woman but I wasn’t in the ‘zone’ having just stepped into a flashing lightshow of a nightclub and being too sober, and after 3 days of destroying my body, I was down some cash and got no ass.
Lame.
But – I was going to spend 2 more nights staying at the Palms residence, where my friend, who was playing in the World Series of Poker, was staying. First night I was absolutely exhausted from 3 days of partying and we stayed in. My last day, I was feeling down on myself. Where were my balls? I was seeing girls in the Residence and wasn’t making any attempts. The closest encounter I had was with two Asian girls in an elevator, the really drunk one telling me to follow them as they got out, with the more sober one telling me “no, no she’s drunk.”
As I got back to the apartment I told my friend and his buddy, a big guy who was into smoking weed, about the encounter, and said that I think we need to load his fancy studio residence with Asian girls. We had this awesome balcony, leather couch, big bed, and large roomy bathroom. We could definitely have a little party in there if the night went alright.
As nightfall came, I told my friend that no matter what, I’d go out swinging. We would go to the club on top of the Palms, and we’d make a goddamn effort. If I had to leave Vegas with a hit to the wallet and to my pride, then I’d consider the trip a fail.
That night, me, my friend, and the pot-smoker walked to the club on top of the Palms. It was a Monday night, and there were not many people out. In fact, normally the club charges $10-$20 to get in the door, but on this night it was free.
We started chatting up a couple girls from Reno. One was busted, the other one had a nice face, and the pot smoker was having a good time flirting with them. My buddy tapped me to walk around the inside of the club, away from the balcony.
We settled on a white leather couch inside, near the bar, looking out toward the outside. As we sat down and started looking around, my buddy grabbed me and said “check out those two in the black dresses.”
Lo and behold, 2 petite looking Asian girls in little black get-ups were seated at a table, alone. My buddy said “I’m going to go talk to them.” However – right as the words left his mouth, 2 asian guys sat next to them. Shucks.
My buddy says “Damn, I was really about to go over there.” And as if the Gods could hear him utter the words, the 2 asian men stand up, away from the 2 girls, away from the bottle of grey goose on their table, and leave the club. Not to the bathroom. Straight left the club.
I smiled at my buddy and said, “Here’s your chance.” He got straight up and started talking to the girl in front as they were dancing their way to the balcony/patio area of the club. I flanked and started chatting up the girl in back. They were both attractive Asian girls from Singapore. Smart, too. The girl I was talking to studied at Oxford and Colombia in NY. She told me she was in love with a guy in NY, but that she was leaving to return to Singapore in 2 weeks.
She was pretty drunk, and I was quite buzzed as well. She started touching me playfully and asking for hugs. I looked over and my buddy seemed to be platonically talking to his girl. My girl is flirting a lot, telling me she loves Jewish guys. Man this almost seems too easy. She is hugging me again, and now we’re making out. She’s not a very good kisser.
I look over, my buddy is still just talking to his girl. I can’t imagine what about.
The night is coming to a close, and my girl says “Just so you know, my friend has a serious boyfriend in Singapore, and we’re not coming back with you tonight or anything like that.”
I don’t try to fight it, I just say alright, and tell her to give a kiss for the road. We make out again, a little more forcefully, and stop.
Then, out of nowhere, pot-smoker friend shows up, and I’m overhearing that platonic girl wants to smoke pot. Well, how convenient. I guess the girls are coming to the apartment after all.
We take the longish walk back to the apartment, there’s plenty of opportunity to be playful with my girl. I tease that I’m ditching her, I grab her, offer her a piggyback, joke that we’re lost, tell her how we’re going to have deep conversations once we get back to the apartment, etc. Anything to avoid 10 minutes of silence/awkwardness. Better to be playful.
We finally make it back to the apartment. I take a leak, and walk across the rectangular studio apartment to the balcony. I pull back the curtain, and my buddy is STILL platonically talking to his girl, and my girl is sitting on the ground. I pick her up and tell her to cuddle on the couch with me inside. We start making out, she’s straddling me, I pull up her dress and grab her surprisingly round little asian caboose.
I don’t want her friend to get weirded out though if she sees through the glass door of the balcony, so I pick up my girl, who must have weighed 110 lbs, and we sit on the bed. Things start getting hotter still, I’m feeling her inside her black underwear, she’s making heavy breathing sounds. I tell her “Let’s go to the bathroom to be more private.” She says no. So we keep doing what we’re doing, we start kissing eachother on the neck, etc. She says “What do you want?” I say “To go to the bathroom with you.” This time she doesn’t say no.
I pick her up and lock ourselves in the bathroom. I press her against the mirrored wall, pull her panties down, and taste a little bento box. She tells me she doesn’t reciprocate on guys she doesn’t know. Lame. But can’t nothing stop my stride now. We keep kissing, I pick her up and support her against the wall, she’s straddling naked. I get bare, it’s getting hotter, and she breathes out “Have a condohh?” I panic for a minute but did indeed have one in my wallet.
I fish it out, and we start going at it. I do my best American Psycho with all the mirrors in there.
My legs and back are cramping so we take it to the floor. When I finish I remark that her ‘flower’ might be the most beautiful speciment I’ve ever seen. And it literally is. The light hits it in a way it hadn’t all night, and it looks like she could mold that thing and sell it at a sex shop. Amazing little Singaporean piece of work. Oh, she also had a British accent too. Hot.
We’re done in there, I take a quick breather, feeling happy as a clam, and she starts walking out to the balcony now. I can’t see if my friend and her friend are still out there, the curtain is half drawn.
As I turn the corner onto the balcony, my friend is standing up without any pants on. He’s covering his crotch region with his T-Shirt. He either just got it in with her cute friend, or I just completely messed up his chances.
The girls leave. I’m looking at my buddy wide-eyed, hoping I did not just ruin something. He laughs and tells me they were smoking and drinking, and she jumped on him. His knees were bloody from giving her the rabbit coitus special on the gravely ground. Great success. The two of us high-fived and laughed for about an hour after that, and I could satisfy my carnal, egotistical desires of a successful trip to Las Vegas.
I did not get the girl’s phone number for a couple of reasons. A) She had a boyfriend. B) She was moving back to Singapore.
I think the moral of the story is that you should never let your significant other go to Vegas with her friend(s). She’ll end up fucking someone.
But it had me thinking about my ‘game’, I try not to get too Mystery-like about it, making every ‘pickup’ a scientific process. My goal in meeting women, (or meeting anyone for that matter) is to have more of a ‘natural’ flow, with a few main goals in an interaction, such as avoiding school/work banter early on, keeping things entertaining and ideally emotional, and if I’m talking to a woman, to get her feeling comfortable and somewhat excited about our interaction through teasing, smiling, and friendly, confident eye contact.
