The PickUp Artist, Part 1

On any given night, single girls in this other city have a melee of choices at the bar. You know of whom I speak. There’s your hipsters, farmer browns, financials, bad boys, wannabe’s, and even the B & T’s… You don’t necessarily look for Mr. Right, but hope you don’t meet another Mr. Absofuckinglutelywrong.

But when out at the bars, there’s one special type of man that you’ll continually encounter. This man gets his dating advice from other men wearing fuzzy hats and goggles. Yes ladies, I speak of the PickUp Artist and here’s part one of a how to on spotting them:

Rule 1: The Neg

One evening, Kim and I were hanging out at new Polk hotspot, Kozy Kar. It was early in the week and the place was nice and empty. In walks a group of boys, collared shirts, dress pants and general rowdiness hinting at their financial district background. The boys start walking over to our side of the bar, one catches my eye and immediately starts in with his line:

PU Artist: Nice hat. Seriously, that's the nicest hat that I've seen on a girl tonight. (Pause) Too bad your shoes are kinda lame"

Me: Excuse me? I think my shoes are pretty ok.

PU Artist: (Proceeds to lift my foot, points to my shoe) Umm, are you sure about that?

Me: (Yanking foot out of his hand, scooching over on the couch to distance myself)

PU Artist: (Not getting message) Oh I get it, you borrowed your hat from your stylish friend over there (Points to Kim).

Me: (Eye roll, turn my back to him)

PU Artist: (Scooches closer and proceeds to put arm around me)

Me: Don’t touch me.

PU Artist: What? (Truly perplexed look on face) Why aren't you talking to me? The pickup artist said this would work!

Me: It's not working! (Jump up almost onto Kim and exit bar before PU artist goes for Rule 2)

And that ladies, is the Neg. Compliment one thing and then diss another with the hope that it will spark interest and attraction. Smart ladies unite and when you hear a man use this strategy, go tell them to fuck themselves, please. Otherwise, how will they know that it doesn't work?

PickUp artists of the world be warned. We know you're out there and we're watching...

The New Yorker

Thousands of miles away from home, Arianna was swaying to the music, barefoot at her 3rd beach party of the day with her fifth cerveza in hand. She spotted a cutie across the room and eyed him over. They danced, drank, laughed and one thing led to another as these international trysts usually do.

Turns out the cutie was also an American, a New Yorker in fact. Arianna had plans to visit in a few months so they exchanged information. Fast forward three months of hot emails, texts and web cam action and they're finally face to face at a bar in the East Village. After another few drinks, the New Yorker whisks her off to his phat apartment in Gramercy Park.

The next morning, she's in the shower when he pops his head in. She's thinking he might bring up the fact that she "forgot" to tell him about her period or maybe he's coming in for a hot morning quickie. What she didn't expect was for him to poke his head in the door and say, " Hey, when you're done with your shower, don't forget to squeegee the glass, ok."

Nice apartment, hot body, but talk about OCD. As she skipped the squeegee then skipped out of there faster then a New York minute, Arianna did have a parting thought: "Damn. You're worried about your shower - you should look at your sheets!"

Alas, when you have a body like the one below who'd blame a girl for keeping in touch.

The Heroes

We'd just finished a 2 day backpacking trip up in Lassen Volcanic Park and were eager to get a head start on getting home. We were assured by our fellow backpackers that it was an easy loop back to the trailhead where our cars were parked. So with no map or compass, 4 brave or silly girls set off to find their way home through the woods.

As these stories always go, we took a wrong turn in the woods and the easy 40 minute stroll turned into a grueling 3 hour hike to nowhere. Realizing that we could either hike back 6 miles to our car with heavy packs, no food & water or find some kind strangers that would take pity on us and drive us back to our original trailhead, we opted for the latter.

After explaining our plight to the first group of backpackers we saw, trail-code prevailed and three boys in the group agreed to take us. Two of us stayed in the parking lot and two of us rode out for what we thought was going to be a short ride to our car. We couldn't have been more wrong.

Hour 1: We went the complete opposite direction from our original trailhead and ended up driving half way around Lassen (which is not a small park by any measure) before finally stopping at a park ranger station to pick up a real map.
Hour 2: Even with the map, we mistakenly turned down dirt paths with rocks big enough to easily pop tires and ditches big enough to swallow the Saab Aero we were rolling in.
Hour 3: We finally find our car at the original trailhead, drive back to pick up our friends and jet to the nearest town for burgers and beers.

Honestly, we were completely at the boys' mercy and they really could have left us at the side of the road or done much worse. But our Lassen heroes really came through for us that day, regaling us with stories from their previous misadventures with San Francisco girls and entertaining us with tunes from their friends band. So here's to you our Lassen heroes for being super nice and saving the day. Check out the video of their up and coming band, Drop Motion. The two drummers are two of the three that were in the car.



And now, a few words of advice for other city girls venturing into the woods:
1. Always carry a detailed map and compass or take a GPS.
2. Don't break off from the group unless you know exactly where you're going.
3. The talking to strangers rule is null and void in desperate situations, but use your common sense.

The Dancer

It was the July 4th weekend and I had a hot date with this cutie I'd met at Harlot the weekend prior. Everything was set for some good times. We got tea at Samovar in the Castro, rode his scooter up to Olive, then rode his scooter around the city until we came upon the mighty mecca of San Francisco karaoke bars, The Mint. It was Saturday, there was a long wait and it was clear that the boy did not want to leave until he got to sing his song. Since we'd already discussed our history's from birth to present in the previous 6 hours of the date he began showing me YouTube video's he'd created in his spare time.

Previously, he'd told me he was a pop & lock hip hop dancer so he was eager to show me one of his dance video's. Here is what I saw:



Needless to say, I almost lost my shit.

To his credit though, he's a great kisser. But after the video, it was all too clear that this one was going in the friend bucket.

The Wrestler

Ladies, this next entry is dedicated to the devoted wing women we have in our lives...and for all the sh*thead friends they have to suffer through so that we may get to know their “friend” – for that night at least.


Below is a recap I had with said sh*thead friend a few saturdays back:


W: So can I ask you something?

Me: Whatsup?

W: So like, do you wrestle??

Me: WHAT?? Haha (hmm attempted humor?? Not sure yet…)

W: Seriously, like do you wrestle?? Because you look like you could really throw down and just be like so focused and...yea, throw down!

Me: (Ok, I think he may be trying to banter…I’ll play along) Umm...no I don't wrestle, but I’ve been known to kick box and I could kick YOUR ass in a heartbeat.

W: Oh yea!!! I know you could….I mean, so seriously do wrestle? (Beginning to jump up in down in seat and visibly get excited)

Me: Do you?? (W T F*CK!?! This must be his witty way of telling me he wants to get it on…no thank you. No thank you if you were the last man standing, no thank you.)

W: Yes I do. I mean, I haven't YET because I've been waiting for a worthy opponent…and I think I just found one…

Me: (Visuals of him jumping on the table and ripping his shit Hulk style flood my mind and my looks of horror must have precipitated his next response…)

W: Ohh my god...did I just make it awkward!??!! (Begins to punch himself in the face) Oh my god, I didn't mean to make it awkward...I really meant it as a compliment...like you just look strong…and like if you wrestled you could really throw down.

Me: (Poking bar companions and jets the bar – 2 minutes FLAT).


The next morning I heard a bit of feedback from my friend from the sh*thead:
"I think your friend might think I’m weird…”

The takeaway ladies is this: as wing women, sometimes we just have to throw down.

The Proposal

Day One: Made out at the club.
Day Two: Blamed it on the alcohol.
1 month later: We're friends, hanging out, having fun.

One night, we're at Vertigo celebrating a friends passing of a different kind of Bar. After a particularly strenuous dance session, I go to have a cig outdoors. He pursues and the following conversation ensues:

Dude: So I think you're a great girl and I want to know how you feel about me.
Me: Yeah you're a cool dude. I'm glad we're friends.
Dude: I think there's something more than that between us.
Me: Um, you're a great guy, but I don't want a relationship right now, blahblahblah... "It's not you, it's me."
Dude: So are you really trying to say that when we made out at the club that one time, you didn't feel anything? I could have been any random stranger?
Me: Sorry, but yeah it really could have been anyone.

That's not all folks.

Two days later, I'm checking my email and I have one from the dude titled "Proposal." Oh I wish I had saved that gem of an email. Basically it went like this:

Dear You,
I think we have a lot in common and I really enjoy hanging out with you. I would really like us to be friends, but think there's a lot of sexual tension between us. I really want to be friends though and think it'd be best to just address it. That's why I propose that you and I hook up, just once. Don't worry, no one has to know. Don't think about it, just say yes.
-Dude

I deleted and never spoke to him again.

Lesson: There's always a price to be paid for drunken makeout sessions.

The Vegetarian

While stern lust lessons can be gleaned from after a romp or two, I think homage needs to be paid to the brief encounters between the sexes: screamed dialogue on the barstool, whispered rhymes in a dark corner and my personal favorite, the getting-to-know-you talk on the dancefloor. Its Saturday night and I'm in the mood for a little bit spice...hip hop style. Met a vegetarian/documentarian/rapper/hip hop promoter stemming from no other town but Bizerkeley. He was rockin a fedora, bright blue hula shirt and v neck cardigan..yes you can blame it on the Goose but I thought he was a cutie. This is us on the dancefloor:

K: So you're a vegetarian huh?

Biz: Yea, do you eat pork?

K: I'm chinese, obviously I do...

Biz: is that where you got THESE pork buns?

The takeaway here lovelies is this: never trust a man who doesn't eat meat and definitely never trust a man who compares your best assets to dim sum.

The Perv

Angie met "Hip Hop" at a Brooklyn Circus party at Yoshi's. After an initial failed attempt at making out with her on the spot, fuxting, flirting and phone calls culminated in a late night birthday booty session. After the booty, Hip Hop ignored A for a week then popped up one evening with a "Come over and fuck?" text.

Shocked and a little irritated, Angie ignored it until a bottle of sake emboldened her to text back: "You're officially in my perv category." A drunken phone call ensued where A sounded off about not being a hoar, how the sex wasn't even that great and how Hip Hop shoulda brought his A game. After realizing that A wasn't going to come over, HH was "super embarrassed," said A was a dope girl and he had come at it like whatev's. Parting words: "Guess I blew it... Peace."

Obviously, boy needed some schooling on how to treat a lady if he wanted to get that booty again.

Lessons learned: You can never go wrong by calling them on their bullshit.

The Pimp

My friend "Tiffanie" likes to number the guys she's met thus far after being in two consecutive long term relationships. This is an excerpt from a recent conversation with # 5:
T: What do you do?
5: I make investments in escort services.
T: Oh, you mean you're a pimp.
5: No... (10 minutes of trying to explain away his occupation)
T: Wait, can I ask you something?
5: Is it if I sleep with the girls?
T: No, I was just wondering if you started talking to me cause you wanted to pimp me out. Cause I'm not like that...

Sex in the Other City

Decided to switch up the format of my blog. My friends and I are all single at the moment and the stories we've amassed are a bit too hilarious not to share. Girls, please read and know that you are not alone in this crazy game called dating. Guys, read on and perhaps learn a thing or two.