Miss Bumblebee

In short – this is a long post about love happening at just the time I applied Red Pill truths to my life, my deep dive into Game and seducing women.


I met Miss Bumblebee (Miss B) at a music gig run by a friend of mine. She and I met on the dance floor. This mutual friend and I had sung a song together – a bolero – and Miss B had seen the video and jokingly asked for an autograph.

“Only in blood” I joked.

“That’s great because I am a nurse – let’s withdraw the blood now!” She replied.

A electric jolt went through me, the kind that said – I like this girl. (These jolts are usually sexual, some primitive charge that runs through us.)

As we left the party, her friend had encouraged me to get Miss B’s number. She was busy that night and didn’t want to join my friend and I for a coffee at a local 24 hour coffee shop.

We later texted and met some weeks later on a Saturday night. It was a standard date – a drink at a local bookshop, hamburger and chips for dinner, a drink at a local music bar, and then some ice cream at a local coffee shop. A Nice Guy date but very enjoyable. (I remember my biggest escalation was touching her hair and head while we sat and had a drink – in retrospect she remembers that as an escalation point although in my current Game state that’s just an aperitif).

Some things trigger curiosity and excitement within me, where a person presents a perspective or idea that is unexpected. As we enjoyed our first drink that night she shared that she was reading Brene Brown’s Daring Greatly and expressed one of her vulnerabilities as being “a pleaser”. (Her home country, within Asia, would win the award for the world’s greatest pleasers).

We went on a second date – rockclimbing – and had dinner afterwards. Despite the Nice Guyism of it all, she was the right person to be with when enjoying dates like this. In retrospect, had I applied current Game to her, I would have not bothered with her due to delays in getting to sex.

A third date – a picnic at the beach and then a seductive kiss as I dropped her off. She pushed back from me coming into the house as she wanted to “take things slowly”. I rolled off, saying I was happy to wait and was leaving. Quickly, she said: “are you free tomorrow night?” I was.

A fourth date – I came for dinner and we had a lengthy exchange of food, talk, salsa dancing and a makeout on the lounge. Finally, after much buildup and the thought of her housemate seeing us on the lounge with Miss B mounted on my lap, we went to the bedroom. I took her clothes off to some music (last minute idea) and then threw her on the bed.

While the whole buildup seemed structured, it was actually a VERY good first time sex, perhaps the best first time I’ve ever had with a girl. In retrospect I realise that my forebrain and hindbrain were connected – I found her attractive, had no worries or concerns, and wanted to fuck her like an animal.

She was very sensitive, very orgasmic, and from what I have learnt, entirely unused to the idea of dominant, forceful and well-paced sex. I thought the high sensitivity was just stored horniness on her part but it seemed in-built. Lucky her. Women like her should not share their high orgasmicness with girlfriends – it will just make them jealous.

I had been seeing an American chef at the time – plump, full of sass, and not particularly attractive to me physically – and soon distanced myself from her. Miss B had trumped her and was my kind of woman. (Curiously, the Receptionist also initially appeared at this time and was subsequently excluded by my “exclusive relationship”).

Miss B and I began dating, so-to-speak, moving quickly into boyfriend/girlfriend mode. We were seeing each other regularly – very strong and intense sexual connection. We both had a public holiday off and I gave it to her in the best kind of way – her post-coital face was noticeable for all to see at a musical soirée we attended afterwards – flushed, puffy, relaxed. A friend of mine – gay – remarked that Miss B was curvaceous and very sexy and even he would have fucked her.

Soon after, I shared with her that I had a son. She was surprised yet pleased – at a picnic we went to, she had noticed how competent I was playing with a baby soon to turn one. I had held a lot of shame since my separation that I could never meet new women due to having a son. Now, Game-deep, I know that it doesn’t matter.

On my birthday in February, I told her that I was falling in love with her. It was true – I was being emotionally true to how I felt. She responded with a shocked look as the smoke of a table Japanese BBQ permeated the area. Lust ensued and she dragged me to a local park for a heavy sex session, a first for her.

We were in the New Relationship Energy bubble: lusty, passionate, positive, hopeful.

I had originally planned a trip to South America in May – solo – with the express purpose of learning to dance tango and to take a side trip to Brazil to meet and sleep with Brazilian girls. I thought it was a nice balance of activities. Miss B, one night, after a deep sex session, asked to come along. I agreed – happily due to having company for four weeks, yet internally something gnawed at me about missing out on the Brazil opportunity.

We went on holidays, had a great time, went to lots of tango classes and milongas, and spent four days at the Iguazú Falls admiring what I consider the greatest sight in Latin America. Towards the end of the trip, as we strolled the streets of Foz do Iguazú, I was reminded of my lust, dipping into clothes stores and shoe shops and seeing a bevy of gorgeous Brazilian shop assistants. I became moody and eventually told Miss B that I was sick of her.

What soured? The thought that my Game journey had been denied by a monogamous relationship (of my own doing) driven by intense emotions and hormones at the start of the relationship.

I escaped for five weeks to Europe in June/July to go to my brother’s wedding. I needed the respite. On return, the relationship did not feel the same and the New Relationship Energy had waned a little.


Finally, in late September, after I had dropped my son off to live with his mother, I closed the book on my Beta life and became emotionally true in a way I had never lived. I spent the five hour road trip listening to Tom Torero’s podcast (I had developed an interest in Daygame around this time) and formed my thoughts on the road back to Sydney.

I met Miss B at a local venue of mine and, in the smoking room, told her that I was in love with her … and wanted to see other women. She, melodramatically, told me she never wanted to see me or my son again, and left.

I didn’t hear from her for weeks and weeks. I was glad. I needed the breathing space. I had lost the Frame in the relationship by arbitrarily placing limits on my behaviour for her benefit rather than doing what I wanted.

I had fumbled through my Game journey at this time:

1. The local girl who felt pressured for sex after three dates

2. The Brazilian girl felt it was an “ambush” to come over on a third date and wanted to go out

3. The Thai girl who didn’t want to come over for a second round despite getting her rocks off during the first round – a selfish lover who Gamed me

4. The Receptionist who deserved a blog post of her own

5. The Colombian who described herself as “loyal” despite eyeing off every guy in the bar where we had a drink, then flirted with one of the musicians on stage – “loyal” indeed. (I am shameless but at least I stay in the bubble when I am on a date.)

It was satisfying, silly, and very uneven. Sex was sporadic and I liked the thrill.


Miss B is a dancer, a great dancer, one of the best I have ever seen. A few months after the split, I was on a date with a local girl and we went to a bar hosting a salsa night. As we waited for the floor show, I looked through a doorway with a window and saw Miss B there – with a mortified look on her face. Mortified (as I later found) because I was with another woman. (Little did she know that nothing happened with this local girl – 37, dry fish, structured thinking, felt pressured for sex after three dates, predictable rubbish.) Miss B came out and was one of the lead dancers for a rumba/salsa choreography – dressed in red, glorious, elegant, sensual. I found her intoxicating.

Miss B reappeared again the following Wednesday at a dance event. I walked straight into her yet she didn’t see me as she was dancing with her back to me. A mutual friend of ours was there – I told her I was leaving as I didn’t want Miss B to be uncomfortable again. Strolling to a local bar, I ordered a drink – and received a phone call from the Receptionist (see the blog post).

The following day I texted Miss B and told her it was coincidental that we had bumped into each other twice in three days. We agreed to meet for one drink, one venue, one hour. As I entered the venue she told me that she was about to arrive … in an Uber. Hmm… she liked to drive.

She appeared in a shoulderless orange top, tight jeans and heels. God I loved that combination. She was always happy to expose her shoulders, often to her detriment when she was sweaty after a night of dancing. I liked the sweat – she was no fatty with odour issues. I ordered a drink and eyed her from a distance while she sat at the table. I wanted her.

We spent an hour skirting around the real issue, a surge of hormonal bliss induced in us. We stood to go after some time and, at the pole near the door, she said to me that I had been honest with her … so she would be honest with me. “I want to sleep with you”, she whispered as she grabbed the rim of my T-shirt. It was intoxicating, seductive, and I took her hand and said to her: “Let’s go”.

We went home, admiring the terrace houses of the local area, in a vain attempt to break the tension building in us. Inside the building, we went to my apartment in the dark and I shocked her with a bright light that powered up in the hallway – a proverbial jump scare Hollywood had overused (and I had too with other girls).

Like any rekindling, the door had barely closed before we got naked and I threw her on the bed in a safe missionary position. There’s an inherent comfort in the first penetration, where you both express a sigh of relief at “coming back home” after a long sojourn in the wild.

She stayed the night and went home by Uber. There were a few reach outs that week – very sexual messages and thoughts from her – but I blocked it for fear that she was attempting to enmesh me into the same relationship as before.

We continued to see each other but she knew intuitively that the terms of the relationship have changed. I did not expect Miss B to accept this for the long term as her plan is a “long term monogamous relationship with one person”. Her plan was as temporary as mine – enjoy each other for now until we find more compatible people to be with. In the words of Saint Augustine: “Give me chastity and continence, but not yet”.

The sex spiked: more dominant, harder, faster, sharper, and very passionate. She was and remains the most sensual person I have ever been with.

She became very generous with my family and I, far more than I could ever return to her. I felt in a way that she was trying to “prove herself” but she already was good enough. We always had this meme in our relationship – “you are enough” – and she was. We spent Christmas and New Year’s Eve together, as we both wanted to.


In early January I received a testosterone reading – very low – and it startled me a little. I texted her, asking whether she thought I had erectile issues in comparison to other ex-boyfriends of hers. I regret asking her as the responses did not help. I sulked and carried on a little, embarrassed at my behaviour, and I cut contact for a few days.

Finally, after dropping off my son again to his mother after caring for him for four weeks, I decided to meet her and talk. I was moody and chose a quiet spot by the harbour near her house. It was ominous – she had felt this before when I had last presented my “lover scenario” to her (note: women don’t want to work backwards in relationships).

It was clear to me that her plan was not my plan – she wanted a monogamous relationship, a baby, to live together and eventually get married. I wanted none of those things in the short or medium term. My plan was to remain single, live on my own, learn to Game, and enjoy a variety of sexual escapades, but most importantly take control of what I wanted in relationships. To hold the Frame.

I soon left her at her house and, before she left, she put her head in the car in a panic to ask me whether I was sure that I could let her go. I looked at her squarely and said yes. It shocked her.


In retrospect I failed to convey signals of what I wanted from the relationship – if this is my greatest sin, then so be it. It’s the curse of “bait-and-switch” – playing the boyfriend but losing feelings months or years in. It also establishes the importance of Frame and defining the relationship early on so there are no misleading signals and misdirections.

I love Miss B: my feelings have not changed. In a greedy, selfish kind of way, no amount of loving will change my core belief that I come first – my plan, my trajectory, my life. It does not change my love for her. I light up when I see her, I feel at peace with her, I love her company. There were other women in my life but I never developed any strong love attachment or bond with them like I did with her.

2 thoughts on “Miss Bumblebee

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