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How To Pick Up A Guy

July 19, 2011

Image Via: Soho House

There are so many cheesy pickup lines. And then there are mine…

It wasn’t a pick up line exactly. In fact, I don’t think there was a line at all. Here follows my simple strategy on how to pick up a guy.

I had just spent the night with a group of friends. After dinner in one restaurant, and drinks in another we had made one last attempt to visit yet one more spot.
Never let them bring you to another location, I think silently. This is advice from a criminal profiler I once heard speaking on the topic of homicide, not drinks with friends. But the same feelings applied that night.

I hopped begrudgingly into a taxi and rode across town to deliver one of my friends to a party she wanted to attend. Upon arrival, there was an issue with the door policy that I wasn’t paying attention to. Maybe the list had been closed for the night (See: Darcy Plus Party), maybe we weren’t on it, maybe we were just losers…whatever the case, we had, as a group, decided to not go upstairs, and instead hit the bar downstairs. I was relieved to not have to attend. My buzz was wearing off and my bed was calling my name. We grabbed a few seats at the bar and started to wind down our evening. One by one, my friends were dropping out, but for reasons I can’t explain, most likely laziness, I just couldn’t get my ass out of there. I was losing steam quickly when the bartender delivered me a glass of champagne.
“This if from the gentleman at the end of the bar.”
Scared to look up as I knew it could go either way I finally peeked up through the front wisps of my hair and caught a glimpse of a man who waved quickly and shot me a smile. He was cute enough so I motioned him over to thank him for the drink.
“How come he got you a drink and not me?” One of my straight male friends asked me.
“Probably because I have a vagina,” I smiled and the stranger approached.
“Thank you,” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Darcy.”
“Hi Darcy.”
“Why the drink?” I asked coyly.
“I thought you were pretty.”
I smiled and picked up the glass and said cheers before taking a sip. I knew it was safe to drink it as it came straight from the bartender, and not roofied as my mother had drilled into my head a million times before about taking drinks from strangers.
Said stranger was in from Connecticut. It didn’t take long to decide he wasn’t for me but I continued to make small talk as I calculated my escape plan in my mind.

A few moments later my friends who had gotten a second wind, or maybe by this point it was considered a fifth wind, suggested we pop into the party upstairs. I went along, for no good reason. I didn’t want to, but my feet followed and before you know it we were riding the elevator to the top floor with the Connecticut entourage we had acquired at the bar in awkward silence. The second the door opened, I saw an old friend. I walked up to him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Hey Darcy.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, scanning the room for familiar faces.
“Not much. Hide me, I am trying to ditch these strangers from the elevator.”
“Which isn’t very nice since one of them sent her a drink.” My friend chimes in facetiously.
“What ever happened with Richie?” My friend asked.
Richie is a friend of his that he had set me up with at a dinner party once years ago.
“Come on. You know Richie wasn’t for me.”
“How about this guy?” He says, pointing to a guy who was rapidly approaching, unsuspecting that his friend was about to pimp him out.
I look over. He was cute.  Very very cute. My friend gave me the brief run down.
“Okay.” I shrug.
Suddenly a confidence, or should I say craziness swept over my body. I was tipsy, tired, bored, and looking for a little entertainment. At this point my social filters were just about shot.

“Hi.” I said, as he approached.
“Paul thinks we should meet.” I said.
“He does?”
“To date.”
“Think we should go on a date?” Fuck it, I thought. It was beyond late, maybe midnight, and I just felt like messing with him for fun. And he was cute. And a date with him probably wouldn’t be terrible. And clearly I didn’t learn my lesson before (See: Spray And Wash)
“I don’t know. Do you think we should?”
“Maybe. Do you think we have chemistry?”
“Not sure. Why don’t you give me a little kiss and we will see.”
With that, I did. Softly on the lips. I have zero idea what I was thinking, and I knew the entire exchange was ridiculous. But I didn’t really care. I had nothing to lose. Other than my pride. Which I had probably lost about 5 minutes earlier when I initially started the conversation with the sentence: “Paul thinks we should meet.”
“That was pretty good.” He said.
“It wasn’t bad. Maybe you should take my number?” Who are you Darcy? And what are you doing?
Really? That easy? I mean, why wouldn’t be. I have known him for less than 2 minutes and I have already kissed him on the lips. Something I actually swear I have never done. Except once, a New Years kiss with a stranger on a dance floor in college. Right after the countdown to midnight. But New Years is fair game isn’t it? Or am I a ho?

He reached for his phone and asked for my name. Which he didn’t even know. Even though we had already kissed. That, by the way, is definitely NOT playing by The Rules on my part. I am no stranger to that. Remember? (See: Breaking The Rules)
“Darcy. What’s your name?” Yea. I didn’t know his either.
“Really? That’s my brother’s name!”
“Sam what?”
I knew Sam. Well, not personally. But a while back someone wanted to set us up. We have a bunch of friends in common. Awk-ward. Shit.
“Huh. I think I know you. I think we have friends in common.” I said casually.

Sam and I talked. Then we talked some more. We closed out the bar. Went to find another one, then another, then another. We were fast friends. Our night involved taxis all over town, and eventually me falling asleep in a gay bar while he ran to get me a grilled cheese sandwich next door. I liked him so much I didn’t even hold the gay bar against him like this guy: GayDate. In this case, the gay bar was the only thing open. And I chose it.  We then walked. For a long time. We tried to get our palms read by a psychic but got turned away at 5 am.
“We’re closed.” She mouthed through the window.
“But you’re awake?” I mouthed back. She didn’t seem to care.
“I think everything in the city is closed.” I said to Sam. “Sadly, our night is officially over.”
“Let me drop you off in a taxi at your place.”
“Come on. Not necessary. It’s so out-of-the-way.”
“Are you kidding? Of course I am dropping you off.”
“You aren’t coming upstairs!”
“I won’t!”
With that we flagged down a taxi and hopped in.
“I’m hungry. Want to grab breakfast?” I said as I saw the sun rising in the distance.
“Sure! Where to?”
“Nah, I think I should get home. Get a little sleep.” I figured I wouldn’t look nearly as hot as the sun was rising and my mascara was probably strewn all over my face by this point. It would probably be best if I left while it was still a little dark. Even though it wasn’t really dark anymore.
“You sure?”

As promised, he dropped me off and didn’t even try to come upstairs. He was a total gentleman. He even texted me the next day telling me it wasn’t a dream. Oh. And we ended up falling for each other. Pretty damn hard.

I thought that was a good New York story. And a good lesson on how to pick up a guy.

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. July 25, 2011 4:23 pm

    God, Darcy, your life! YOUR LIFE!

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