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 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 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.