Encounter with a Model.

This incident is not about how to flirt but more a funny incident that took place with a very hot model.
I met a girl at a house party a few months ago, the actual conversation at the party wasn’t that interesting, but the girl was good-looking, and I was a little drunk, (I’m superman when I’m drunk) and I finagle(sp?) my way into a number and a date.
A few days later I call her, and arrange to meet her at a coffee shop.
I am there reading a newspaper and she shows up, takes off her jacket and sits. She is wearing the tiniest little cut off top, barely covering her very well proportioned breastesess.
I smile and we order coffee.
Within 5 minutes of sitting there with her, I have realized that my 8 yr old turtle Shlomo is a creature with a much higher intelligence level than this lovely pair of tits, but I am a man, a red-blooded man with great big set of aching balls of adamantium, and when I was awarded these great big balls of adamantium, Thor said, "Thou shalt ignore the personality of hot women. It is not your job to scorn women for their lack of wit, for it is only due to their lack of wit that they will permit you to fill their flower like cunt with the juice from these balls I give to you."
So we talk, and talk about very interesting topics ranging from, red lipstick, to pink lipstick, and tube tops to cut off tops. It is a very rewarding conversation as she often pouts, and squeezes her breasts together with her shoulders. I find myself trying to time such squeezes and establish a pattern to see if something I am saying is causing this.
About four hours of mind numbing conversation and 38 boobage squeezes later, we decide to go, and I offer to drop her home, she agrees and off we go. I have "Rubber Soul" by the Beatles playing and am humming along to it.
She asks me: Do you like the Beatles?
Me: Sure. Do you?
Her: Yea, they're ok.
Me: Oh, ok. Who’s your favorite band or artist?
Her (Thinking): Hmm, I don’t really know.
Me: Ok, name one artist you really like.
Her: Hmmmmm.
Me:......
Her: You know who I like...the homeless people who have nowhere to go, no food to eat, none of the things that we take for granted, but they still have the heart to sing. The kids who have no parents, who beg on the street, but they still have the will to live.
Me: OK. Mother Teresa.
In the awkward silence that ensues, I squeeze her knee.
We have now reached her building.
She gets out.
I smile at her.
Her (Bending forward through the open car window, giving me a lovely view) : I had a great time, we should do this again sometime.
Me: Sure.
Her: I will call you tomorrow.
Me : Ok, cool. Talk to you then.
And I drive off.

The next day is a Sunday, and she calls me in the afternoon.
Her : You wanna meet me for dinner?
Me : Umm, sure.
Her: Where do you wanna go?
Me : XXXXXX. They got good food.
Her: OK.
Me: Cool, pick you up at 8.

I drive to pick her up at 8, she comes out wearing a little black dress, that shows off miles and miles and miles of her beautiful long legs. I am pleased, and the gifts of Thor are pleased, so off we go.
We are at this Italian restaurant, a very fine restaurant, a much more expensive aphrodisiac than a box of chocolates. I am hoping the place lives up to its name, and I can rub my balls all over those magnificent breasteesssss.
She orders the eggplant, and I order the chicken.
She looks at me as I order, I smile at her and:-
Her: How can you eat chicken?
Me: Just like I eat beef, fish, pork or any other animals. With these beautiful savage chompers.
Her: But don’t u feel bad for the chicken.
Me: Umm no, should I.
Her: (Very Seriously) Yea, what about the chicken’s father, the chicken’s mother, the chicken’s brother, the chicken’s sister, the chicken’s GIRLFRIEND.
(I am completely amazed by her stupidity at this point and fuck what Thor said, I cannot handle this anymore.)
Me: (Very Sarcastically) I am sorry, I thought your passion was for the homeless sopranos of this world. I didn’t know poultry occupied a place in your thoughts too.
Her: I am a vegetarian.
I call the waiter.
Me: (smiling at her, to the waiter): Hi, I ordered a chicken, is it possible for me to change my order?
Waiter : Umm yea, I think you can do that.
Me: (still smiling) Great, I’d like to order 1,2,3,4,5,6 chickens to go, and can you make sure that all 6 are from the same farm. I wanna finish off the entire family in one go, so there are no mourners.
Needless to say, she was disgusted and left, and I did not get to rub my balls, or any other part of my anatomy over her.

About the blog

Hi,
I was just sitting around my office, bored out of my fucking mind, tired of downloading Milf porn(well not tired, my hard drive is full) and I had this brilliant idea.
I will start a blog, and fill it with experiments in flirting. Every time I go out, to a party, or a club, or any situation where i would meet femininas, i would attempt to engage them in conversation with them, in various different ways, the goal being to get laid and post the results of each method on this blog.
After all, with great power comes great responsibility.
The great powers that i do possess are mediocre looks, less than average height, fucked up ass teeth, and a weird sense of humor considered offensive by most normal people.
The responsiblity that I have bestowed upon myself is the enormous task of finding out what works and what doesnt, for my brothers, the average joes of society, so that they could flirt their way into the panties of women much hotter than themselves.

Disclaimer :- You or I might not be successful in doing this, but we will get slapped sometime or the other during the journey.