| | Thursday Night was a realization. An awakening moment in the productive effort I put forward in this game we call Life. Psyche Class 101 at San Diego City College has two HB9's, two HB8's, and one HB7. Tonight is oral report night and prego HB8 Amy is doing a speech on Becoming a Parent. My glasses broke the night prior so I make it a habit to sit in the front row.
{sidenote: I f-closed HB9 Sara early a month ago; the same night I gave my Cocky/Funny induced oral report on Sexuality}
So Amy is up there kicking ass and taking names, and every once and awhile I toss my head back to give Sara some non-verbal communicators that I want to "bang-bang" later that night (this is one of my sticking points, its been a month and still I can't initiate another f-close).
I pull out my phone and Head First (we all know him), sends me a text. We go back -n- forth on improvements on each others game and shoot the shit for awhile. Midway through Amy's speech HB8 Paola walks into the door and into my frame. Now I've never really given this latin spice any attention (I've been trying to get back on that Sara horse for a month now), but Paola is wearing the most eye catching gear tonite. A short Abercrombie shrit with pink hip hugger jeans. Game on.
I don't say, I point.
"Oh, the AB stands for Abercrombie Finch." Paola smiles a smile that fucking puts me in fight or flight mode, which is a GREAT thing, you see, Paola just broke up with her boyfriend TUESDAY. Time for my opener.
I pull out paper and pen, scribble, scribble and slide it her way:
"Your Eyes look sad... what's wrong?" (when she's done reading my note I maintain eye contact with her because I am genuinely curious. She writes back that she's just fine, drank a lot of wine with her homegirls last night and jumped in a freezing lake of water).
"You fucking pornstar! I Love it... what happened next" (She smiles, writes that she's so not a pornstar, she's a good girl, blah, blah, blah)
"No your not! What's the fucking craziest thing you've ever done?" (Sue me, I'm in the Navy we curse alot. Paola says that she's not a bad girl, doesn't get out much, but that I seem like a badboy).
This goes on for about another 5 mins. She just bought new glasses, so I use a reverse lock-in prop by placing her glasses on my face and ask her how I look? She laughs, tells me I'm so silly (a reverse lock-in prop is my bread and butter, I wear any girl I meet thier rings, glasses, necklaces, bracelets, you name it). HB9 Amy is wrapping up her speech and I think about future logistics. Sara is giving her oral report right after Amy, I'm sitting in the front row flirting my ass off with Paola. How can I further escalate this situation in class? Be Bold.
Pick up paper and pen. Scribble, scribble.
"So listen, my hand is beginning to cramp up. Send me a text real quick and I'll let you know how bad I can really be.lmao XXX-XXX-4580" Slide it her way and keep strong eye contact. 2mins later.
{actually text messages}
XXX-XXX-6965
If your hand hurts how can you text
Fair
With my stylist....so crazy time?
XXX-XXX-6965
Uhuh what did you do
Fair
It's a bar story, I'll tell u when u buy me dinner. Ok type ur full name real quick... First -n- last...
XXX-XXX-6965
You trickin me but its okay paola *blank*
Fair
So from now on ur Puma Z... give me a nick name
Puma Z
Thats cool i dont have a nickname
Fair
Puma, so ur just calling me Kerry (*hint* that's my real first name)
Puma Z
Yes sir
Fair
U live in the barracks puma?
Puma Z
yup
Fair
And u drive?
Puma Z
Yes sir do you dirve?
Fair
Dont have my car out here yet...perfect, u can take me shopping saturday!
Puma Z
Well thanks for the trap i dont think im doing anything that morning but i'll let you know wats up
-------
So this whole time Sara is gettin' ready to start her report and I slightly kino Puma to see where her boundaries are. I squeeze her thigh, and a smile bursts on her face. No resistance, push -n- pull, look at her palms then slap them away, yada yada.
Sara gets in front of the class and says underneath her breath (just low enuff so I can hear) "Now I gotta pee" {its inside joke - I had a nervous piss the night of my speech} I wink at her thumbs up and she begins.
WHAT HAPPENED NEXT WAS THE STRANGEST ENERGY TRANSFER I've ever experianced. I actually felt Sara's nervous energy shift into my frame (which I try to maintain on a pos. level) and try to impose me. I subconsciously pushed away that force, turned around and grabbed Puma's hand and gave it a squeeze.
"I....I....I can't do this." Sara looks over at our Professor (a Mr. Gabe Lawson- who has also read The Game and knows of Steve P). Sara averts her eyes from mine and makes a sprint for the door. DEAD FUCKING SILENCE. I'm shocked.  For two reasons: 1) I did not consciously mean to illcit any behavior that resembled IOD (Indicators of Disinterest). I honestly realize now that to me her nervous mannerisms gave off such a negative output that I naturally and subconsciously gravitated towards a more "spunky" and "upbeat" energy... that of Puma's.
So Sara comes back from the bathroom, dry tears and all, and in my book goes from an HB9 to an HB7. We fluff talk a bit, and I tell her to text me if she wants to talk more about it later. Meanwhile I head out the door with Puma. She drives me back on base, tells me how I tricked her into giving me her number and a free ride, blah, blah, blah. So we make plans for her to take me shopping Saturday at Fashion Valley Mall.
I'm not saying its the prettiest field report ever. I'm just saying its what I did.
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