Let The Four Horsemen Ride (The Apocalypse Opener)

I've never tried the apocalypse opener seriously, but I hardly think that sentence makes semantic sense. The opener's existence is a jest, a Richard Feynman-like acquiescence that even if things were so easy, we would would not want them so.

“Hey there?” “Uhh hey?” “What are you doing after this?” “Blah blah”

“Do you want to come home with me?”

Three sentences of packed mode one dynamite. The “apocalypse” etymology is apparent.

I have tried this opener seven times in day game. I have received zero negative responses and zero closes, although some amusement and puzzlement.

Last month, Deadmau5 performed at Congress theatre and I was out with friends having a blast. Three hours of nonstop electronic spasms later, I decide to go have some fun. The scene is ten thousand people, sweaty in animalistic trance.

Girl 1: She just stepped away from the crowd. She's a slut. Essentially wearing panties and a bra to a concert, with long furry ho-boots. The beta proles lust at her with demasculinized fear.

I pass her, stop, look over my shoulder, and with no emotion in my face and an aloof droll the three lines come out. She isn't phased, just “But I don't know you.” I maintain unspoken eye contact, non-verbally and non-bodily shrugging “so fucking what?”

“Well, normally I would say yes, but I really have this VIP afterparty to go to.” Still no word from me. I tilt my head back slowly and start to walk away, when she grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me in. “I'm in room 420 at blah hotel.” I can't remember the name of the place.

“Normally, I would say yes.” Hah.

Girl 2: She's standing by the bathrooms, waiting for her friend (don't girls go in together?). Sexy as hell, but clearly much more innocent than number one. Wesno comes in, three lines come out. “Umm I'm here with my guy friends, I can't just leave.”

I maintain eye contact and unshaken composure for what is probably five seconds but seems like an eternity and I can see her visibly admitting submissive body language. With a slight growl, “I did not ask if you can. I asked if you want to.”

She looks up with DDB (doggy dinner bowl) eyes and squeaks out “I...I can't. I'm sorry!” I look at her for another few seconds and leave, as she squeaks out one more “Sorry!”

She just fucking apologized to me for asking her to sleep with me, after three sentences. Life is the matrix and game is the pill.

Girl 3 and 4. I got impatient. Let's just say Wesno scientists have shown (1) super hot girls are really hard to find alone at a concert attended by thousands of people, and (2) girls in groups are not good targets for the apocalypse opener.

Still. “I'm sorry!”