"Will you come back here again?"Perhaps."With them?"Next week?"Wednesday."No, not wednesday.
Not ever? Not ever.
Kent night began with a series of optimistic comments about taking home 10 girls apiece (what you get when you hit the closest party central with 5 other boys) and quickly turned sour when they found out that the girls in the new joint have their noses up in the air and their lips tightly shut. The girls did the pre-scoping group dance which allows no men to enter until permission is granted unanimously that the circle may be broken.
And thus, our boys' egos were also broken.
Sure, you can claim you weren't even trying. Perhaps you weren't. But your friends were. And man they look desperate.
But I revamped my game. It's been too long since the game was played, and I was overwhelmed by the natural guidance provided by the dusty rule book I managed to preserve in my head (I was going to throw it out, thinking that my last relationship was going to last for a very long time. WRONG).
So a girl-dance goes like this:
- Scope for free space
- Stick to your buddies
- Move to attract, but not too obvious, because you want to look like you're having fun even without a man by your side
- Be cute-silly, not WTF-silly
- Isolate a target
- Twirl around and "magically appear" next to the man
- Laugh at his silly "I'm trying to impress you dance"-- and laugh like you mean it.
It's not a lie that we exaggerate certain parts of ourselves in order to more or less fit into the other person's jigsaw piece. Its not lying. It's simply being "the perfect catch": Beautiful, knowledgeable, funny, interesting. I was rusty last night, and too consumed with sticking to the rules that I looked like I was sticking to the rules. And I have to work on the look. Yes, the look that'll reel in the guy from across the room.
Well, back to the personality question: which one do you use? Well, yes, all the requirements to be "the perfect catch", but adjustments are necessary, and it all depends on the guy and the setting. The best flattery is to laugh. The second is to be interested in what they have to say. The third is to be able to be sarcastic, but not too sarcastic that he'd think you're just big ol' bitch-fest. Last but not least, is the classic I'll-stand-in-the-back-of-the-room-but-with-a-clear-sight-of-you-so-we-can-exchange-glances-while-your-friends-are-taking-all-the-attention-in-the-room.
Boy, oh boy, these never failed me. Not even once.
Zack was his name. Where he lives and how old he is slipped my mind, but in times of crisis like this, last names weren't always available, and giving away yours was not an affordable move. He came in with red paint all over his face (Twilight party, he was team Jacob) with a pair of glasses which made him about 10 times more attractive than he really was. I singled him out immediately, knew that by the end of the night, regardless of what comes in my way, he was the one to fall back on. Nothing else came in my way, and he turned out to be pretty charming. Black bandana, jet black hair, green t-shirt, and impeccable dance moves of the indie-club variety. The only thing missing was the sparks--the zsa zsa zu, as Carrie Bradshaw correctly puts it once.
Though we left the party early, I managed to get an ego-boost or two. The afore-mentioned question wasn't a romantic question. It was the sort that expressed interest, but in a "Let's hook up sometime in the future" kind of tone, which I appreciate even though I'm not normally interested in one night stands. Just the game. Just the thrill of discovering new methods in the cheat sheet. Just the novelty of it all.
He's leaving for San Fransisco anyway. I'd give myself a 6 for my efforts last night. His ratings:
Physical appearance: 7
Style: 8
Performance: 6
Charms: 7
Sparks: 2
Come on. It's really not that hard to impress me.
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