I was out with a group of friends a few months after the aftermath of Mila and my almost reconciliation, when I met Emmanuelle Chirquiri through one of them. Emmanuelle is South American. A solid 8.5 with makeup, predominantly thanks to her banging body. Without makeup and in the morning she’s only a 6.5, as I would later discover.
The night we were introduced and began talking, Emmanuelle’s bitch shield defences were up incredibly high. Kezia has trained me on how to beat these, but this girl was something else. I knew she didn’t have a boyfriend, but she just didn’t seem interested in engaging with me or anyone else.
I had pretty much given up when I went to the bathroom. While waiting in the line, I noticed that a mutual friend had tagged Mila into the club next door. Holy shit. This was my opportunity. After leaving the bathroom I saw Emmanuelle outside. I walked over to her, which was in perfect sight of the club next door’s entry.
A plan formed in my mind. Emmanuelle had an insanely proportioned body – massive breasts, great ass and a toned stomach – a perfect 0.7 ratio and the type of body I know Mila was always after but could just never achieve. If there was one thing I had figured out about Emmanuelle, it’s that she was a standoffish bitch. But I had an inkling that I could twist that and use it for my own selfish purposes. Little did I realise she was going to enjoy it as much as I would.
We talked for about 10 seconds and Emmanuelle was as disengaged as ever, when I looked over to the club next door and said “Damn. That’s my ex”. I was making it up. I knew she had been inside the club for forty minutes.
Emmanuelle looked over. There was a crowd of people walking into the club. “Which one?” That was the greatest reaction I’d had from her in 15 minutes of talking. Her interest was piqued.
“She just walked in. If I see her again, you’re my girlfriend.”
Suddenly, she sprung to life. “Okay” she said.
I looked back over at the entrance to the club.
Emmanuelle grabbed my arm, surprisingly tightly. I turned, and she was staring intensely in my eyes. “If you see her, I WANT to be your girlfriend”.
“That’d be really good” I said, holding her eye contact.
“Let’s go find her” she said.
“Okay” I said, putting my hand out. She grabbed it, and we turned and walked towards the club hand in hand. This was better than anything I could have planned. It seemed the competition and drive to make my ex jealous was a powerful motivator and excited this girl. I later reflected that because she worked out so much at the gym, she probably had excess testosterone, which drove up her drive for competition.
Security let us into the venue without hassle, and we walked down the stairs. As we did so, I scanned the room. My odds were on Mila being on the dancefloor, trying to attract male attention. I was right. The dancefloor was only half full and I spotted Mila and her friends. I walked diagonally towards her, so that Emmanuelle and I would end up walking straight past her on our current course.
As I was a couple of steps away, I noticed Mila look straight at me and her mouth drop open in shock.
I gave her a ‘wassup’ upward nod as she struggled to regain composure.
At that moment, Emmanuelle, who had been on the other side of me holding my hand, came around into view. I squeezed her hand to let her know this was it. I kept my eyes transfixed on Mila, while I turned my head slightly to look in Emmanuelle’s direction.
Emmanuelle pushed her body right against me, grabbed the back of my head and began kissing me passionately. She had done this so smoothly and effectively that Mila was staring at me, still struggling to regain composure, when Emmanuelle face raped me. I kept my eyes open for a few seconds, just long enough to savour the look on Mila’s face. Then I closed my eyes and enjoyed the smug satisfaction of the passionate kiss she was giving me. We eventually stopped to come up for air, and Mila and her friends had disappeared. I figured they had retreated towards the bathroom, obviously following her in her state of distress. My diabolical plan had succeeded.
“Let’s get out of here” I said to Emmanuelle. I took her by the hand and led her towards the doorway, then figured I wasn’t done with her just yet. I pushed her into a dark corner, and we made out there for another 5 minutes. It seemed that now I’d conquered her bitch shields, she was open to the idea of us getting physical.
Still, I figured she could turn off at any second and warn that this didn’t mean anything, so I pre-emptively struck to break rapport.
I stopped kissing her and looked at her. “We don’t tell anyone about this. Deal?”
She nodded. We made out for another minute, then I took her by the hand and we walked out. As we did, we walked up the stairs right behind Mila. She noticed us as we walked out of the club, and I put my arm around Emmanuelle’s shoulders, just as I used to do with Mila. We walked back inside the bar to meet our friends. I’ve never spoken to Mila since.
It’s hard. I continue to feel so strongly about Mila, that I have thrown myself into hooking up with other girls that I don’t really like to try and dull the pain. In truth, I’m still going through stages of grief. Berger’s model seems to fit best with what I’ve experienced. I’m at the ‘Seeker’ stage. I’ve been looking to adopt beliefs and redirect my life to create more meaning in my life. This is partly what this blog and the Manosphere have helped to do. I’ve needed this because beliefs that I had previously held as rock solid have been shaken to the core. I have needed to reinterpret and re-evaluate a lot of the information I had previously held dear.
I know that this won’t bring Mila back. But it’s forced me to lash out at the things that kept us apart. I’m still furious at the background I have that put distance between us. I’ve channelled that anger into changing my way of life, as it’s the only thing that brings me peace. I’ll have a full detailed post about ways to get over a girl soon.
Update: I wrote this a little while ago… I think I’m now coming into the ‘acceptance’ stage of grieving. It’s time to move on. Thank you to everyone in the Manosphere for your brilliant support and insight. As I said, men, it does get better.