Coming home this afternoon to watch the extra period between the U.S. and Ghana in the World Cup, I thought about catching some in a Greek restaurant’s bar. Before I could walk a block, I spotted these fine, long young legs in Daisy Duke length jean shorts behind me talking on her cell. The closer she got, the more I realized she was conversing in French. About 5’7″, early 20’s if that old, wavy blonde hair, rather animated convo.
Very Euro, those shorts. I’d have loved to see those toned, but willoy legs in a bikini. When she got really close, thank God the light turned red. I said:
“Pardon” (in Francaise). Girlfriend motioned me to hold a sec. In a little bit she was done w/ the call, and there we were. Lots of folk out, but the corner to ourselves. No one had stepped to this gorgeous creature (the little time I saw her).
“Vous ete la plus belle fils del monde” I said. She smiled and thanked me (in case you don’t know, I called her the baddest babe on the planet.
“Parlez Francaise?” she asked, though I could tell she knew it wasn’t my first tongue. Nice girl. I told her I spoke some, and introduced myself, she’s Nicole. She may have the best figure in her body type of anyone I’ve approached in two years. IMHO, her wheels are way better than Jessica Simpson’s when Jessica played “Daisy Duke”- Nicole reminds me more of a tennis player or a tallish majorette. Now I kind of appreciate what dudes mean by “legs go on forever”, but when most men have used that expression, I found the woman they were describing somewhat skinny.
We bantered, I found out she’s living here now (not just summer), her English is great, and her attitude was cool for a person just involved in what approached a heated convo. I noticed some red handwriting on one of her palms.
“Do you a red henna tattoo on your palm, or is that a note to remind you of something?”
“It’s a note.”
At any rate, she took my card, but balked when I asked to put her digits into my phone (“Isn’t that weird?” “I have your card”). I tried to convince her to give me the number, and if we talked, or met for tea nearby, and she didn’t like me, no harm done. Nicole wasn’t buying it, again reverting to the old “I have yours” dodge. It’s all good. It was part of a day’s outing and experience, and I learned, once again, that one can meet anybody, but one can’t if one doesn’t try. I could coach most of you to get further with the Nicole’s of the world than I did (a lot of my attitude toward day game is one of harmless fun, meeting people, keeping my wit sharp so I don’t have to “turn on” in clubs and other places where many cats are more comfortable approaching (and women expect it more). I’m about fun with beautiful women, not letting an opportunity to know one slip by because of time or venue. The result is often just icing on the proverbial cake, not a pressured goal.
Besides, I’m so hot this weekend, I’m feeling it. Those are the times to do anything in life (the so-called “zone”).
Live The Dream,
Lee “SmoothTalker” Coles