The Player’s Diary – Kingsley Alaribe

The Player’s Diary – Kingsley Alaribe
I have lived a life of simple pleasures. Maybe too simple. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I just love women. And I think that’s okay because they love me too.
Now, you must think I’m really proud already, but stay with me – let me begin, and let me finish.
I am truly a master at this. Pay close attention, no pun intended.
Myriads of women have prodded down the path of my humble existence for the mild gratification of the heart and flesh. I make them come. And I make them go. This is an art.
If I met one whose heart was too guarded to invade, then I’d have met with a player’s favorite subject, for there’s no greater fun than the chase before the kill. But if she persists too long, then I’ll be facing the possibility of every player’s waterloo: falling in love.
This has happened thrice. Yes, just three times. But that is too much for a player. And the other countless conquests, the fallen heroes, they have made me the master that I am.
Stay with me. This is the beginning.
I met Amber a fortnight ago while attending a public speaking course. She was tall and pretty. To use the word ‘beautiful to quantify would be pushing it a bit. She wore a tight brown-fitting skirt suit with a yellow camisole that allowed just a fair view of her cleavage. Her suave smooth legs jutted sinfully out of her short skirt and promoted the intimidation generated by her imperious behind when she strutted pass cattily.
All eyes were riveted on her.
The confidence in her gait told me she was used to this response and stares from men. Pretty soon she’d expect someone to confront her.
I won’t be that person.
When a man does the expected with women, he’s on his way down a very slippery slope. Whatever your approach, nothing is more important than timing.
Talking about approach, I use a very simple combination: start off with humour, show some wit and intelligence, and then hint at a little warmth. It’s the best start-off recipe I know to dating. So, as much as I was totally taken by Amber’s aura, I kept my distance.
It’s in the rule book!
Ten minutes later, someone made the first move. I was watching him from the corner of my eyes. He stepped up boldly and said, “Hello.”
Wrong move.
When you have not previously met a lady, you are coming from an insecure position. To say hello is to give her one of three options: to be either polite, rude or indifferent.
A player never leaves it to chance. He’s like a chess master, calculating ahead. His moves are determined by the responses his adversary is likely to give. But he has it all covered.
Amber smiled vaguely and mumbled a greeting under her breath. Then she got her phone out of her bag. That was a clear sign she had accessed him and he didn’t make the cut. Now she was going to pretend to be wildly enthralled by somebody on the other end of the phone conversation she was about to get on.
His best bet would have been to excuse himself and save some face. That way, he could re-strategize and try again.
But he lingered until her call connected.
She moved away to get some privacy. She didn’t acknowledge he was going to be rooted to the spot waiting for her.
He didn’t know whether or not to follow her. Even he knew it was over before it got started.
I could read his mind, ‘Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t.’
Women want to be swept off their feet. But they don’t want to get a warning before you do it. That just sucks the fun out of the process.
Unless they already like you.
When Amber got off the phone, she went off in the opposite direction.
Just what I expected. For me, the chase had begun.
In five minutes, I had a wing woman. A wing woman is a woman whom you send forth to the actual one you want to get acquainted with. Women get along faster with women. So the wing woman clears the path for you, looks around, invites you over, and introduces you as her cousin or a really close friend. Then later on, she excuses herself to use the bathroom and never returns.
I employ wing women for people like Amber who are constantly on guard and seemingly unfriendly. So with a little prepping, my wing woman, Lade, went to meet Amber and they started talking.
I figure they were getting along because Amber was smiling. And then, Lade beckoned at me from across the hall.
When I accosted them, she said, “This is my cousin, Ronny. He shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t need this course.”
I smiled and offered my hand for a shake. “Next thing, she’s gonna tell you I wrote Obama’s speech.”
Amber smiled. “Sounds like you could.”
Now that is my point. By all means, get a woman laughing. Practice if you have to. If she’s laughing, she’s listening to you. And if she’s listening, then you can pretty much drive your case home.
So as I shook her hand, I quickly added, “Did they send you out here so the remaining staff can work for one day without distraction?”
She caught the joke and guffawed.
Lade knew that was the cue. “I’m going to freshen up a little. You guys should please excuse me.”
Amber nodded her approval as Lade sashayed off to the rest room. And I took my place in front of her.
Now stay with me. Let me begin, and let me finish.

Lilian Osigwe Editor

A Creative and Versatile Writer.  
Currently writes for SabiNews Media

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