Hitting on people at a bar has proven to be unpleasantly difficult but I recently found out it’s even worse when the woman’s drunk. While playing shuffleboard with an attractive blonde at an idyllic establishment, our flirtatious banter was interrupted when her boyfriend arrived and planted a kiss on her lips. Sure, that’s a fail but one can’t let a happy couple diminish one’s ambition. There was a time when I thought being the bar-flirt was sleazy but even if that’s true, it’s a moot assertion – it’s survival dammit!
When a man approaches a woman, it’s obvious he’s hitting on her, roughly, 90% of the time. The mission – should he choose to accept it – is not to come off as a creep within the first 30 seconds and successfully convince her that he’s innocuously desirable by the end of the evening. I thought I found my next shuffleboard partner after seeing a woman sitting alone at a table studying her cell phone.
“Hey, you look bored. Want to play a game of shuffleboard?”
She peered up from her device and quizzically gazed at me as if my question was not only perplexing but unwarranted. After a brief moment, she asked, “Pff, what?”
I took this to mean she couldn’t hear me, so I grabbed a seat at the table with her and repeated myself. She smiled and politely declined. Gauging that she wasn’t put off from my sudden presence, I started a conversation with her that lasted for the next couple hours. Turns out she decided to drop by this bar on her way home from a party she had been to, and she was fairly drunk. Just to show you how ridiculous I can be, I thought that if I chatted with her long enough while she sobers up, she’d find that endearing and, possibly, go on a date with me. But like with any slipshod drunk person, the conversation lacked direction and purpose.
My friends left thinking that I was bound to get lucky that night, solely for the reason that I was still chatting with her at 2am. Maybe if I was someone else, it would have led to that but in my experience, it never does. Come to think of it, does it need to? Regardless, she gave me her number right before waving for a cab and disappearing into the disquieted early morning. I texted her so she’d have my number and name but got no reply. A couple days later, I sent this:
Unsurprisingly, we never went to brunch. After telling this story to my roommate, he said, “You know what your problem is? You should just be yourself and let the women come to you!” We sat in silence for 15 seconds then laughed and laughed.
-Single Guy in NYC