| An HB10, definitely. She had dark, piercing eyes, the endless black hair of an Italian goddess, and a white sundress with cute, blue flower patterns—she was easily one of the most passionate, beautiful women I had ever seen in St. Louis. And yet it was effortless: I met her eyes and held my hand out to her in invitation. She immediately put down her drink, smiled at me, accepted my outreached hand, and followed me out onto the floor. That was my “opener”. And it worked 100% of the time.
This never happens, right? Or does it?
Listen up, friends: have you ever been Salsa dancing?
Ok, now stay with me, here: I am no dancer. Even though I’ve been a musician almost my entire life, I’ve never quite picked up on this “dancing” business. I mean, in addition to my lack of leg-hip coordination, I just didn’t get the appeal: do people actually find it enjoyable to shake parts of their body around? Now, don’t get me wrong: women seem to love it (almost as much as most of us love watching them dance.) But I assumed most men “loved” it just because the women did. I never thought I could see value in dancing.
Ok, now I get it. In addition to never taking the time to appreciate the complex system of dance, I had just never been to a Salsa club before.
Let me paint this picture for you: this Salsa club, Vida, on Euclid Street in the Central West End of St. Louis, MO, is a PUA’s dream. Beautiful (and oftentimes exotic) women in numbers that vast outnumber the men. Dressed to impressed. And dancing. And waiting for you to approach them.
Of course, that assumes one thing: that you know how to dance.
Now, above when I mentioned my “opener,” I did not lie—at that club, I easily and effortlessly danced with some of the most beautiful women I have ever met. But let me tell you: after that initial contact, I never felt like more like a failure in my entire life. Everything that worked for me in so many other places became nearly useless: I tried all the PUA tricks: my favorite opinion openers, some quick routines, some sound bites, some cute jokes, some clever remarks. I tried winning over the less attractive friends as a means of sparking admiration/jealousy in the others. I tried honest, penetrating questions. I tried playfully teasing. I tried disqualified myself as a potential suitor, showing no attachment or neediness. I tried speaking offhand, as if I were just a social kind of guy, interacting with another of the five-hundred people I would talk with that night. Nothing—that Salsa club came down to this: if you can’t dance, you are a Failure. You could be Neil. You could be Mystery. But if you can’t dominate, dizzy up the girl and treat her like your stage prop on the dance floor, you have Nothing.
In some ways, it makes sense: in the Salsa club, I found that the only DHV is the skill of dancing. But these women were vicious—it seemed like that was the ONLY acceptable DHV. Everything else seemed like children’s tricks—questions about ESP? Cute comments about her jewelry and dress? Questions about her passions and her future? Kid’s stuff. I mean it: most of them wouldn’t even listen to me; their eyes were on the dance floor, scanning the room for partners that would spin them around in ways they never knew possible.
Something kind of disturbed me about it: most of the women don’t even know the dance “moves” that make for the impressive showmanship. Ask them to teach you. I asked a handful of people. Most showed me the basic steps and maybe how to spin someone. But on the dance floor, most of the women just sat back, did the basic dance steps, and expected you to do the rest. As a feminist sympathizer it kind of sickens me, but as an aspiring PUA, it’s just something I’ve come to accept: The women are the sexual selectors—if I don’t step up an differentiate myself from the thousands of other men out there, she isn’t going to give me the time of day. “Impress me,” was the subtext of every dance I entered. In some ways, it was a blunt, funny (and somewhat symbolic) reduction of male/female relations—something like starting PUA all over again, and realizing that you don’t know how to smoothly break the barrier between strangers. The whole experience turned even worse as I found that most women are too “polite” to step out mid-song, and will rather gaze idly around the room, stepping along in a repetitive pattern, waiting for you to do something. They were unwittingly tearing my soul apart. God help me. And I assure you: my cute comments about my inability to dance didn’t win me any grace points. After the song ended, she almost always darted away. I failed every time. How could this be? My opener was perfect every time. But my mid-game was a disaster?
Dancing is an extremely complex system that I’m now learning to appreciate. I've found that the thrill of performing a couple of good spins and the accompanying smile form the girl is almost priceless—its like the first time I successfully ran Style’s EV, and the girl looked me in the eyes like she had just met her soul mate.
My enthusiasm about PUA extends from my love of humanity; from my desire to understand people from all walks of life, to connect with them, and often—if possible—to love them and in return receive their love. I have cultivated many friendships and relationships as a result of this.
But apparently, if I want an “in” with some of the most intense, beautiful women in this city, I need to learn some more dance moves.
Thoughts, friends? Any insight would be appreciated.
Peace,
Shaman _________________ -SHM
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