A Less-Than-One Night Stand

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Have you ever tried to pick someone up at a bar? Better yet, have you ever thought about picking someone up at a bar, but realized that it's damn-near impossible. Then read on...

Submitted: February 17, 2007

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Submitted: February 17, 2007



Guys do not go to bars to drink. Guys do not go to bars hoping to have a 'bonding experience' with their male associates. Guys do not dance. Well, guys who prefer the company of female private areas do not dance. Guys go to bars expecting to get laid. You read that right. We expect. No hope. No desire. No per chance, wouldn't it be delightful if.... It's expected.

Specifically, guys go to bars with the mindset of using the fewest number of words or gestures that will make a woman - any woman - throw their naked form at us. Notice that spending ridiculous amounts of money is of no concern. This is how strip clubs have remained so successful.

For some reason, using trickery and deception to lure women are not shamed approaches to the male psyche. They are necessities. The mindset is this: "If caring, honesty and casualness got sex, Mr. Rogers would be a pimp." As I recall, I never saw a woman in his neighborhood. Just some puppets and a mailman that stopped by twice a day. Curious.

The key is finding a target early and sticking with it. And oh yes, women are most certainly targets, prey, victims - anything to remind us that we are the hunters and they are the... givers?

It's taken a few thousand years to come to grips with the fact that sex on the first night is a long shot. This is why the phone was invented. There's no reason for all that work to go to waste. So we need a chance to pick up where we left off.

The problem is that guys can't give girls their phone numbers. That's because girls can't call guys. Not physically or logistically. It's lose-lose when a girl gets a guy's number. If a girl calls a guy, then she's too desperate and the guy won't call back. If a girl doesn't call a guy, then she's a stuck up bitch and let's go drink her off my mind. You see?

As easy of a task as it may sound, guys draw up the most elaborate ways to get a girl's phone number. It's no wonder that the few times we actually score a number, we have no idea what to do with it.

Clearly, a bar is the best place for it. If she has alcohol in her, she won't realize that she shouldn't be giving me her number. She'll just do it. It can't be that girls actually want the same things we want. It has to be that we must trick them into revealing this most treasured of secrets.

That's why you have to practically stalk girls at a bar. Hey - it's better than being the creepy guy who stares at them from across the bar all night. *Awkwardly shifts attention* So this is my story...

I saw her in a smoky room. She smelled like cheap perfume. Wait - that's not my story. Start over.

I had just arrived at the bar. Standing next to a group of eligible contenders, I thought it best to give a listen to see what info I could pick up. Good chance it could help out later.

"Oh hey! I got my new phooooone! Look how cute." Thus spoke by the bangingest of the group. Off to a good start already.

She produced from her tiny purse, a disposable camera, a smaller digital camera and finally an even smaller cellphone. Tossing the cameras into a friend's surprised hands, she clutched the cellphone into both her hands for display... right under her half-exposed and now fully lifted breasts.

"Lemme see. Oh; so cuuute."

"Jenn, I love it!"

"I have to get my hands on one of them!"

Ladies, I completely agree with all of you. And the phone was nice, too.

"Oh. Bad news. New number. Pain in the ass, I know."

"Alright, let's hear it."

As the Verizon vixens simultaneously produced their own blinking phones, I wished that I would be able to get that phone number somehow tonight.

"610... 294 -"

"Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait! J-E-N-N-I..."

I wondered how I might find myself with that precious information. Because everything from that point on would be easy. That hardest part is always getting the number.

"610... 294... 5555"

"Did you say 254?"

"No. Listen. 6. 1. 0."

I realized at this point that I should probably be committing these numbers to memory as if they were next week's winning lottery ticket.

"2. 9!! 4... and then a bunch of 5's."


I hurriedly typed the numbers into my archaic block of a cellphone. I was moving so fast that the phone slipped right out of my hands and onto the floor with a 'per-clunk!' so loud that it could be heard even in a bar.

Suddenly, the entire group turned in my direction to see what had caused such a ruckus.

One of them sarcastically shouted, "Uh, Can you hear me now?" Then they all laughed like bastards. What a bitch.

I offered an awkward smile and headed right to the bar for a refill of confidence. I knew that to approach this girl tonight, I would need a few more drinks.

An hour later, I reasoned that just a few more drinks would get me to the comfort level I needed to be at.

Within fifteen minutes, my vision was so blurry that I couldn't have picked out Paris Hilton if she had been in the room that night. With my last blip of good judgment, I decided to call it a night.

I reasoned that the best time to use the questionably procured phone number would be the following weekend. Let's face it, even if we're not in the same room I stand a much better chance if one or both of us is drinking. So Friday night at 12pm it would be.

As the hour approached I got a little antsy. 11pm. That would be just as good. And in case things went well, there would be plenty of time to meet up that night.

So when 7pm rolled around, I figured that was close enough to 11. So I made the call.

"Yo, Jamie, err, Jennifer. What's up?"

"Who is this? Your number's not in my phonebook."

"Very funny. You know darn well that it's Joe."

"Oh, uh. Hey... Joe?"

"So what's up, where are you tonight - Oh yeah, sorry if you tried calling earlier this week but my phone has been on the fritz since Saturday. Just got it back. So how are you liking that new Nokia?"

"It's a Razr. But oh yeah. I love it. Great... - so what happened to your phone?"

"Oh c'mon. You were standing right there when I dropped it. And you said, 'Uh, Can you hear me now?' It was funniest thing I heard all night."

Well, at least part of it was true.

"Oh. Heh. Yeah. That sounds sorta familiar..."

"Oh you. Now you're just toying with me. You were right: you are a pretty mean drunk. Hehe. Well I've gotta get back. Give me a call tomorrow and we'll set something up. See ya."

Click. Brilliance. I'm so smart. How could it not work out perfectly?

Wait - you don't actually think she called back do you? If so, why don't you give me your number and we'll talk about it over sex.

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