JTBL #17: Barcelona and the Three Rules of Meeting Women

I've pissed off more women in the last three weeks than in the whole of last year.

It’s when you find yourself in Barcelona taking part in a marketing apprenticeship with people from America, Switzerland, France and Catalonia, that your journey really starts shifting gears and you get into all sorts of weird adventures.

​Since the Swiss and Catalan dudes are very much into ego destroying and meeting women, I’m making strong headway in that department. And since the women around here are fiery and angry and aren’t afraid to tell me to fuck off, that’s also a learning experience.

Loving it.

​And since it’s Barcelona, the adventures involve women.

Egos and Insecurities

This one girl followed us home from the club on one of the first nights in town. I was a bit tipsy and happened to compliment her cleavage because frankly, I thought it looked kinda sexy. She made a wild spectacle of it, flailing her arms and cursing foul play because of my insultingly sexist comments. It was so overly dramatic that I found it ridiculously comical.

This drama queen obviously had some bolts loose, and me being the asshole sort, I of course needed to provoke that a bit more.

Because I have a sick sense of humour. Deal with it.

Of course the mature thing to do would be to avoid these sorts of people in the first place. But no one ever blamed me of maturity, so there we go.

One of the Americans was not so enamoured by my choice of words. In his world, you should try to please people, because saying what you really think might offend someone. He schooled me about being respectful to women. I giggled into my drink.

If people choose to get offended when I'm amazed by their appearance, is it really my problem?

It seemed like the classic situation of wanting so desperately to get laid, that every bit of common sense and self respect might as well be thrown out the window. And since it was ruined by me, I became the asshole.

This guy had seen me get rejected multiple times chatting up women on the street. In his mind, my approach was way too direct and would only cause bad feelings to people. “You can’t just compliment women on the street!” But the ego prevented him from trying and seeing the larger world for himself.

Instead, he offered a bunch of lame excuses as to why the street approach wasn't for him, because it didn't seem natural. Ironically, paying huge sums of money to get into closed nightclubs and getting wasted and dragging someone home and waking up to a hangover after horrible sex, IS considered natural.

Each to their own, I guess.

As it happens, it wasn’t the only time Ms. Loosebolts followed us home like a stray dog. Again, American dude was doing his best trying to please this little princess, dodging the “I will leave”-ultimatums. With admirable talent, I might add. I thought I’d just step back and observe from a distance to see how well the sucking up strategy would help in the getting laid-department.

Sadly it was quite obvious that the only thing getting laid that night would be doormats beneath dirty trodding feet.

I moved out of the line of fire. We went into the other room to discuss nudity and how it affects people’s comfort levels. This topic arose from the fact that I didn’t have any pants on.

As is the standard level of clothing in a living room.

Then Loosebolts escapes from the kitchen, somehow finds us in the other room, and puts up a fiery fistfight for womens’ rights everywhere. Her argument basically was that since women get commented on if they are nude, then men shouldn’t be allowed to be nude either.

I thought that was ridiculously stupid. Not to mention insulting towards men AND women. I called her out on her insecurity about her body or something. Can’t quite recall, I was a bit tipsy and had had enough of this person’s bullshit. These sorts of idiots are the people who give feminists a bad rap. Not surprisingly, she stormed out. Fucking drama queen.

And, since I made the one girl leave the house, I was the fuckhead of the evening.

I was pointed toward an open door and given a chance to defend myself by two people looking less than pleased. Feeling like a poker player asked to rebuy after losing multiple stacks to bad beats, I figured it was better to shut up and exit the building.

edit:​ We spent some time talking over this matter with American dude. I should emphasize at this point, that we're living in tight spaces, getting to know each other in a stressful environment surrounded by hot women. Feelings will heat up.

I probably went overboard with this ad hominem rant, and for that I apologize. To American dude and my readers.

I obviously have a personal issue with these sorts of situations that lead me to lash out. It's something I gotta work on.

But that crazy lady can fuck off.


The Other Miami Chick

We were hanging out on boardwalk, and we noticed this girl sitting by herself. She was a cute brunette, with that sort of elegance and grace to her posture.

We got to talking, and got along surprisingly well. She was a traveller from Miami. We joked about eating lunch and having bits of food stuck in teeth. I told her about my happenstance meeting with a dancer in Budapest, also from Miami.

“You’re joking, right?” she stopped me.
“No, quite serious. Why?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I’m also a dancer!” she laughed.

Well, apparently I have a talent for finding the Miami dancers. It must have something to do with dancers having a strong non-verbal language, which seems to make a strong impression on me. Also, I'm hot for slender-bodied brunettes, so that helps.

I was so amazed by the good vibe and this funny coincidence that I completely forgot about rule number one.


Not surprisingly, she flaked on our date, because she was getting married. To her credit, she actually answered my text rather than just disappearing. I wished her well on her travels.

Check out Tessa @ http://www.travelwheretonext.com/​

The Small Woman From Australia

So there was this cute little feisty thing that sailed ashore with one of the Americans. (Yes, they actually came with a boat from Italy.) We shared a bit of a rapport instantly, as she had that sort of temperamental sense of humour.

Saw her again on another night. We talked about sex, relationships, society and funny little mind games. We seemed to be getting along fine, so I asked if she’d like to get out of there. But there was a cockblocking angrier woman in her company. Couldn’t quite get a read on their relation, so I didn’t push it. We were having fun anyway, so no matter.

Her angry friend left elsewhere and she joined our motley crew for an after party at the office. It was getting late, and she needed to get back to her hostel because she had the key and needed to let angry friend in or some such thing? NOW was my chance! So I asked to walk her home.

We walked to her hostel to do the whatever with the keys and kissed in the stairwell. I was so close to just throwing her over my shoulder and dragging her to my mancave, but we agreed to meet up the next day with more possibilities for that.

I kissed her again and left for the night.

Our plans got muddled and we didn’t meet the next day.

But no worries! Because in the modern world, when plans change, you can easily contact the person and let them know about it.

That is, if you would have their FUCKING PHONE NUMBER. I’m so used to phone numbers leading nowhere that I don’t even bother with them anymore. So much in fact, that I forget the main function of phone numbers: logistics and convenience. Which leads us to rule number 2.


Yeah I was pulling my hair out that night. We met again the next week but the ship had sailed. She was ice cold and for good reason - sorry for fucking up!

An Encounter on La Rambla

After tasting some delicious sangria, we began our journey towards the electronic music festival on the hill. This involved taking the Barcelona metro, which was a bit of an unknown to all of us. Even buying the tickets was a bit of a hassle.

Go down the stairs. Find big ticket dispenser. Big ticket dispenser comes in two colours. Why? Who knows. I get a 10-trip ticket in the end, hopefully good enough for four people, and run back up the stairs because I’m on the wrong side.

And there she was.

My world stopped.

This glorious figure was walking up the stairs with a sort of energy that I’ve never seen before. I had to say hello. She was amazing. I felt an immediate connection between us. It was magical, even.

If there is attraction, you can feel it in the first few seconds. That's why it doesn't matter what you say when you meet the first time.

Our exchange was probably two sentences or less, but we agreed to meet up for tea later. She had to go see her friends and I had to go see my colleagues, who were annoyed that my antics were making us late.

I spent the concert evening with my head in the clouds. A high resulting from something other than whatever they were smoking, mind you.

Later that week we met up for lunch. She took me to the rooftop of a hotel. Sunshine, smoothies, and this Spanish girl. We talked about psychology, egos, and how society forces us to become something we might not like in the end. She had just come back from a similar journey I’m on, and told me about how her perception of her world had changed.

I was completely smitten by this creature.

So warm, cute, thoughtful, funny. We kissed after talking for an hour. Not because it was some sort of move or some sort of play. I just felt like it was the complete right time.

A lunchbreak sadly passes by lightning fast in this sort of company.

The following Sunday we got together for a cuppa tea. I was feeling a bit off, having worked on a marketing project for the whole day.

Smart thing to do would’ve been to stay at home and meet up at a better time. But no, having my judgement completely impaired by this person, I wanted to meet that night.

She told me about her interests in an independent Catalonia. It’s funny when you listen to someone intently and create this bubble with just you two in it. Even La Rambla, one of the busiest streets in Barcelona, was nothing more than background buzz outside our little bubble.

Another reason for a horrible date time was that she had a prior engagement. We kissed passionately at the parking lot. I wanted so bad to get her naked.

Continuing in my quest for blunt honesty, I whispered that into her ear.

Then she left.

Haven’t heard from her since.

No reply to messages or calls. I've been fucking kicking myself for making her feel hot like that, knowing there was no chance of taking her home. Guys, never ever escalate if you have no chance to take her back home! You'll lose some fine people to biological tendencies.

Meeting women isn't about constant escalation. It’s about having the discipline to wait for that right moment so nature can “take its course.”

-Sasha Daygame 2015

So she ghosted me. Didn't even drop me a message to tell me to bugger off. That's just harsh. =D

I wanted to cook dinner for her. I wanted to climb a mountain with her. I wanted to drive scooters to the beach with her. I really let myself get carried away by this woman.

And I fucked it up.

I'm gonna join camp America soon. It's not like I'm getting too many points being honest these days!

Which brings us to rule number three.



p.s. kudos to the dork who keeps catching me when I fall.​

Leave a Comment: