The Social Game Changer …

Aah yes, the Social Game Changer. One of the most fascinating aspects of modern sociology. It is, however, not a foreign concept. We have all witnessed the effects, maybe even you yourself have taken up the role at one point.
Let me give you a scenario. The setting can be any type of social get together; house party, braai, chill spot. Preferably a setting more for socializing than doof-doofing. The populous is nicely sauced and conversations are flowing in moderation. Now, it’s not too early that people are still in their own circles but not too late that all “my place or yours” contracts have been sealed. No, people have moved past eye-locking contests, but no one is “sorted” yet, in terms of the person they would like to entertain or be entertained by, for the night.
Firstly, I’m a guy so observations are made from testicular point of view. Up until now the place has been buzzing at a reasonably moderate, almost monotonous pace. That is, until somehow the whole room, sensing something amiss, turns towards the door. It is as if the new guests made a telepathic announcement of their arrival. So you conform and turn and behold, The Game Changers have arrived. A group of women/guys so hot, they nearly silenced the room, but they’re not so hot as to obliterate the self-esteem of the weaklings in attendance. Just enough Adonis/Aphrodite genes to set them apart. Their entrance is as unique as their cheek bones. Where some women enter a room like self-conscious, conjoined quadruplets sprinting for a dark corner. The GC women almost move in slow motion. They get to the door. Pause. Scan (without making eye contact with anyone, although some thought otherwise). Then, in single file, akin to a runway, make their way to their chosen spot. Which so happens to be on the other side of the room.
During this event all conversations are submarined and faces do a very peculiar thing. Notice the person you were talking to. See how it seems like the top half of their face detaches from the bottom? Their mouth is still mumbling something in your direct, but their eyes are super glued to the runway. The GC ladies may or may not have spoken to anyone as they strutted through the crowd. God forbid they are nice GC’s. You know the type that say hi to everyone and bring hugs in bulk. This is because they greet so many people that whatever ‘edge’ you thought you had when her eye sparkled in your direction is rendered obsolete. Or worse, you happen to be the only person in the planet of the room that they don’t know. Nah, it’s better when they are the rude kind because then everyone can pin the (weave) tail on that “stuck-up-bitch” donkey and exile them to their VVVIP section.
Anyway, they are here. Absolutely gorgeous. Perfume like f*ck your life. I just love what happens next. All of a sudden the energy in the room has changed. Boys and girls you might want to use this to your advantage because what is about to happen is completely subconscious and most aren’t aware. Say you are a guy and you’ve been on the mellow mack tip. Upon assessing and bitterly conceding, she is not competing. The woman you are with will do one of the following. 1. She will flash the widest smile you’d ever seen till then and giggle at the very way you breath 2. She will realize that your ass is doing nothing for her social standing and dismisses you 3. She get’s all conflicted inside, goes mute and you realize that the subscriber is unavailable.
For women. The dude might just up his game (hopefully to your delight). Or he will realize that eer…nice meeting you, then dashes back to his crew for a status meeting. If you are really unlucky, he might just crumble into a fetal position after you picked up your jaw and eyeballs from the floor as the “brothers over there” came in.
It is highly likely that these GC’s will leave the place as eventfully as they came. They may not have even had much contact with anyone really, but their presence was enough to catalyze all manner of encounters. My advice? Know where you stand. Fortune favours the brave and stupid. And if all else fails, trip one of them magazine cover wannabe’s.

Writer: Vus Ngxande    Photographer: Leeroy Jason