When she endlessly repeats the same question about you…

I open a girl at a bar.

Me: “Your drink looks poisonous.”
She: “It’s my favorite.”
Me: “It will kill you.”
She: “I hear an accent. Where are you from?”
Me: “Where are you from?”
She: “I’m from here. Where are you from?”
Me: [pause] “Abroad.”
She: “I can tell as much. What country?”
Me: [pause] “A dark land.”
She: “Tell me.”
Me: [mock serious pose]
She: “Where are you from?”

I smile and leave her hanging to go back to my friends.
Ten minutes later, close to the dancefloor, she reopens.

She: “Where are you from?”
Me: [calm, friendly, questioning expression]

She: “Where are you from?”
Me: “You should be dancing.”

She: “Where are you from?”
Me: “Is it important to you?”

She: “I just want to know. Where are you from?”

She repeated that exact same question another five, or so, times. The exact repetition almost appeared as an attempt at pretending the question had not been asked and left unanswered previously. Asking it freshly, as though out of the blue, might trigger a reflex to truthfully answer, she might have felt. Or perhaps she was just planning to wear me out.

I never told her.

Different situation: 21-year-old HB8, third date (not counting two meetings in groups), and she is still resisting the kiss, playing good girl.

She: “How old are you?”
Me: “Old!”
She: “How old?”

Me: “Imagine a number, and I’ll read your mind and tell you if you’re right.”
She: [annoyed look]
Me: “Close your eyes and imagine a number.”
She closes her eyes. I wait a couple of seconds, then break out laughing: “Ha, ha, ha, I’m much older than that.”

She: “How old are you?”
Me: [calm, friendly expression]

She: “How old are you?”
Me: [mock serious pose]

She: “How old are you?”
Me: [amused chuckle]

She: “How old are you?”
Me: “I am a vampire. I’m hundreds of years old.”

She: “How old are you?”
Me: “I don’t remember exactly. I was born so very long ago.”

She: “How old are you?”
Me: “Please say it again. It’s sexy.”

She’s shocked and also amused, turns away for a moment in frustration.

She: “How old are you?”
Me: [Taking out iphone to film her say it.]

She: “No, you can’t film.”
Me: “It’s so funny and sweet. Just want to capture the moment, please say it again one more time.”

She: “I don’t like you.”
Me: “Yes, I know you like me.”

She: “How old are you?”
Me: “I like your passion.”

She: “What passion?”
Me: “Your sexual passion, which makes you want to know.”

She: “How old are you?”
Me: [no response]

She: “Why don’t you answer? Is it a problem?”
Me: “You want to know why I don’t tell you?”
She: “Yes!”
Me: “I like that you feel this passionate curiosity. It is a very beautiful thing. It’s my gift to you.”

She: “How old are you? Show me your ID card?”
Me: “I’m sorry officer, I left my card at home.”

She: “I’m going to find out eventually anyway!”

She steps closer, touches me, faces very close now.

She: “How old are you?”
Me: “Actually I have my ID card here in my pocket. But it’s fake. If you were police, I’d show it to you. But to you, I am honest, so I won’t show it.”

She: “How old are you?”
Me: [gazing straight into her eyes with brashness and amusement]

Passionate kiss!

The exact repetition of the same question, again and again and again, is an interesting phenomenon. These girls were both young. More mature women perhaps would stop themselves. However, I suspect there is a lesson here that applies not only to young girls.

What makes her repeat the question?

Of course, she really wants to know. Perhaps she wants to wear me out through repetition. That’s probably part of it. Perhaps she wants to trigger the beta male’s reflex to truthfully answer any question. So her motive is to find out as much as to shittest me.

But more importantly, she feels the heat rising between her legs with each denial of an answer. And she is simply addicted to repeating that experience.

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2 Responses to “When she endlessly repeats the same question about you…”

  1. Linkage is Good for You: If the Naked Female Body Offends You, Don’t Click Edition (NSFW) Says:

    […] – “When She Endlessly Repeats the Same Question About You…“, “Rubbing Up Against Your Manhood: A Slightly Different Perspective on Female Shit […]

  2. adrian drummond Says:

    I’m in my 40’s and i hate being asked this question – usually, by girls in their early/mid twenties. Last time, i was asked i kept refusing to answer her question. I felt i was coming across as evasive with something to hide – which I was. I think you did it in a much more light hearted way than me. Good to read..cheers

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