I don’t know what Chris Hansen would think of the devious and deceptive tactics my friend and I employed to trap a different type of sexual predator; that’s right, a gold digger. But we had to see if it could be done.
Gold diggers have been around since man first learned to farm land and acquire goats & chickens. While most women have a hypergamous nature, gold diggers don’t necessarily care about bonding nor the survival of their offspring, but see sex merely as a means to an end. Since it’s the resources and the lifestyle these women are after, the easiest way to get into a gold digger’s panties is to create the illusion that you are that dapper Don with disposable income.
The following is a true story, although the names have been changed to protect the innocent (and not so innocent). My buddy Jack is a real estate agent, though not particularly stellar one, and although he was nowhere near wealthy, he had keys and access to multi million dollar mansions, that he showed his prospective buyers (more on this later).
Jack and I would always party together on the weekends and talk shit about the type of girls that would kiss ass to rich guys in the nightclubs, who in turn would buy them drinks in the VIP in exchange for vajayjay back at their cribs.
In my eyes, they were nothing but undercover prostitutes, but in Jack’s, they were something more. They were dreamers who were sold the Cinderella story as a child, and were now out to realize their dream, looking for that knight in shining armor that would whisk them away to a place of happiness ever after. Jack felt their efforts should be rewarded. If they wanted to be a princess, Jack wanted a role in that play as prince, for as long as the curtains stayed open.
Together, we formulated a plan on how we were going to use the internet to get Jack laid with one of these harlots and indulge their fantasies at the same time. I worked on Jack’s online profile and made sure the photos were well curated; pics of Jack sunbathing on a yacht, playing golf, drinking champagne with other bougie types, and of course, the shot of him exiting baller cars (that we either rented, borrowed, or merely test drove). Jack had to be seen as living the lifestyle of the rich and famous, from country clubs to private jet rides, we managed to get the pics to pass muster. It helps to know photoshop for this.
Jack previewed the homes and looked for staged ones that were fully furnished with bedroom sets, couches etc. Most girls aren’t going to fuck you on a hardwood floor, no matter how expensive the home. Fortunately, most real estate agents aren’t showing properties in the evening, so he would go by a given mansion with a suitcase of his clothes and hang them in the closet and put some in the drawers. As an added touch, we even left a few doctored bank and stock account statements with high balances on the tables and dressers, just so they would have something to read while he went to use the bathroom.
Then we simply advertised his baller status on dating sites and apps like OKCupid and Tinder and waited for the fish to bite.
And bite they did, almost like a feeding frenzy! Responses came in fast and furious as dozens of girls matched or filled the inbox daily. Some were already being playfully naughty in their messages. Others desperately tried to qualify themselves by sending messages about how they had just returned from some exotic travel adventure, or had been dining at an exclusive restaurant. We, being redpill and aware of a gold digger’s nature, knew we had them on the hook. They were all hypergamous, shallow monkey branchers to us, some just hotter than others.
I would schedule the dates via text using a temporary Google Voice number. I had tentative dates lined up, ready on a moment’s notice, just incase the current one turned out to be a dud. We would first have Jack meet them for happy hour at a local bar & grill just to make sure we screened out any mental cases, hood rats, trannies, fatties, or other undesirable catfish. Once they fit the bill (only 8s & 9s with class), we moved them to Jack’s house using a car that Jack borrowed from his uncle. It was an old 1974 Jaguar, white with the wood trim interior and white wall tires. The car wasn’t worth very much, but luckily, most girls don’t know the first thing about blue book values. We made sure to have it waxed and shined to get their panties wet for the ride home. To complete the illusion, I played Jack’s chauffeur, complete with three piece wool suit, beret and white gloves.
After screening out several girls, we set our sights on a gold digger in her prime; Danielle, a 25 year old business school grad who was using her sex appeal to climb her way up the start-up ladder. She was a solid 8.5 with the curves that would make many a man risk his marriage for a romp in the hay. Danielle had all of the accessories of the classic gold digger: the tiny, but expensive, Louis Vuitton handbag, with gold chain strap, the Christian Louboutin red sole pumps and diamond bracelet bling. She was quite the little head turner.
She met Jack at the bar and enjoyed a $3 strawberry daiquiri (happy hour prices). I watched her giving Jack the classic IOIs (indicators of interest), the head tilts, the neck strokes with her perfectly manicured nails, and the giveaway hair flip.
He gave Danielle the canned excuse that he had just purchased a place and needed her opinion on interior design ideas. This greedy girl didn’t hesitate to want to come over. On the ride to his property listing, I (playing the chauffeur) answered some calls on my cellphone (fake ringer app); First his broker was calling asking him what he wanted to do with the shares of Disney and his short positions in the Chinese dot coms. Next, his tax attorney wanted to know if he needed help setting up his offshore tax shelter. And finally, the host from the Bellagio in Las Vegas called, wanting to know if he wanted to be flown in by private jet. After the last call, Jack instructed me to send all calls to voicemail as he didn’t want to be rude to his guest.
I dropped them off at a mansion in the hills with breathtaking views of the city. I opened the door and helped “the lady” to her feet. Jack told me that I was being relieved and that he would call me later if needed. The look on Danielle’s face was priceless; all blushes and smiles. She reminded me of the character in the movie “Pretty Woman”, whose ship had finally come in.
A fake refilled expensive bottle of cheap champagne waited in the fridge, and that was all that was needed to put the nail in her muffin. The pillow talk afterwards revolved around Jack’s plans and how she wanted to travel with him in the future. Without making any promises, Jack told her that he had an early appointment and they had to be out by 8am the next morning. The agents would be there by 9 to show the place and Jack and I needed time to ditch the evidence.
He was able to sleep with her two more times before she caught on to the con. We’re not sure if it was the agents’ business cards we forgot to remove from the kitchen counter, or perhaps she used a friend to setup a date with Jack as well, or maybe she got wise and tried to run a background check on Jack (who didn’t exist), or maybe she had access to the listing information on the property address. Whichever the case, once she figured out she had been had, the temptress disappeared; all communication blocked or left unanswered, as girls who don’t want to face reality tend to do. She knew that if she called him out, he would do the same, and although there was no shame in his game, there was plenty in hers.
Most of the girls couldn’t wait to jump out of their panties and into bed with Jack. If he was lucky, he could smash twice or even three times before they caught on to the con. He described feeling like a rodeo cowboy, riding the bull for a full 8 seconds. He knew he would get bucked off sooner or later, but the ride was exhilarating, none the less. He made sure to use a Google Voice phone number, an alias, etc. just incase they got vindictive, as we all know some crazy girls can get. And then it was simply on to the next one.
Wealth and status is so intoxicating to certain females that the illusion of such is all you need to pull off the perfect caper. Attempt this feat at your own risk, and in doing so, make sure you cover all bases carefully with a well planned escape. Cover your tracks and pay attention to the small details, as women of this type are always on fraud alert.
Do you have an experience where you caught a gold digger? We’d love to hear all about it in the comments below.