I’m back in Zagreb now for a while and have left Bones to his shenanigans in the village (read on). A few weeks ago we went to a cocktail party in a park. We worked a few sets to work up some interest but not much was forthcoming. Bones did get the number of some fat skirt who liked the Stone Roses (Stone Roses Girl) and some drunk girl who had a dog with her (Dog Girl). He wasn’t so enamoured with his haul but I pointed out that we live here, we’re not cramming street game into a long weekend, both girls could be a door into a wider circle chock full of top drawer skirt.
‘That fatties best mate could be a proper Audrey’, I wisely stated.
We went to the submarine bar and the bar staff remembered us. They remembered exactly where we sat and what we ordered the week before. For both rounds. It’s that small. Workable and game-able but you have to be careful.
‘See!’ I cried triumphantly, ‘Good job we didn’t work the bar like it was 1995, we’d already have a reputation’.
‘From now on’, Bones drew a breath,
‘You’ll have to go to Zagreb to do your coaching, you can’t be doing it here’.
Bones dilemma was whether or not to date the dog girl. She was hot and keen but a low 7.
‘I don’t want to get seen around town dating her, I’ll be frozen out of the 8s market’.
He might have a point. That and my old adage, if you want to get the best skirt, you have to put down the 7s and commit.
Two days later he’d gone on a date with the dog girl and my girl and I met them. Turns out my girl’s best friend, with whom Bones is in with a chance, went to school with the dog girl. My girl’s friend is a solid 8 with model looks. He’d be stupid to burn that lead for the sake of a roll with a 7.
It terrified Bones. ‘That was a near miss’, he said wide eyed.
Bones resolved to lay off the cheap skirt but two nights later he went for drinks with Stone Roses Girl and her friends. In that group there was a hot friend. Hot but crazy. A hot mess, I think we call it. Bones brought her home and banged her.
‘I thought you were laying off the cheap skirt’, I asked the next day.
‘She has a boyfriend’, he advised me sagely, ‘she’ll be discreet’.