I remember when my friends and I were in our 20s and we were active in the weekend ritual know as the “meet market” (or as I would call it, the “meat market”) – scouring some bar or night club of choice for the evening. The guys would be in desperate straits trying to figure out the next way – the best way – to come up with an opening line to meet & greet a woman. For the most part, I just stayed in the background and observe from afar as each friend would – one by one – get shot down like soldiers in a bloody battlefield. It was quite entertaining to watch, really.
I hated the meat market scene. Always did, even though I attended that ritual on a fairly regular basis. But, it was mainly for two reasons: either (a) I was working with one of the bands doing lighting or stage managing, or (b) I was hanging out with some great friends. But to just go out for the sole purpose of trying to “hook up” was so absurd to me. All that anxiety compressed into smoke-filled rooms loaded with phony pretenses, mixed with bad cologne/perfume, and outrageously expensive glasses of some libation of choice. Poor lighting along with dulled senses due to the consumption of some form or legal (or illegal) substance added to the surreal atmosphere.
I was a designated drivers before there was the term “designated driver” – not so much to not let my friends drive drunk (although that was certainly a factor), but more so because I and quite a few other guys were sick and tired of having to wait until well after closing time to get back home because one guy (usually one of my best friends, Phil) had this bad habit of thinking that he could finally hook up or at least get a phone number from the dregs that remained in the club at 2:30 in the morning. It was not a pretty sight (poor Phil). What was even more sad was the sight of Phil, some time afterwards, shuffling down some dark street with his socks barely on his feet, his shoes in hand, thinking that he’s whispering (when in fact he wasn’t) some old girlfriend’s name, trying to find her house at 3 o’clock in the morning, looking for what would today be termed a “booty call”. Sad… very sad. Hilarious, too, because he was rarely successful.
I remember back in the 80s, there was some study done which asked women what was the best or most successful “pickup line” for them to hear from a guy. The question was absurd in and of itself, but the answer the women gave was even more priceless. The consensus answer was………… (drum roll please)………… “Hello.”
At the risk of sounding snarky in my response to this answer, I said to myself: “No sh*t, Sherlock!” It’s what the guy needs to say AFTER he says “hello” that we’re looking for, fer cryin’ out loud. This kinda summed up all the reasons why most people eventually just throw up the arms in frustration and say “the heck with it.”
Well, after I got out of the local music scene (which was in Philly at then time), and as I got older, this “scene” got even more tiring. By the time I turned 30 and moved to California that was it for me. I’d on a rare occasion go to a club or bar, or check out a band somewhere. But before too long I was done with it all. If that’s the only place where the ladies were, well they weren’t going to find me there. I’ve got better things to do with my time… and money… and sanity.
Time passes.
A LOT of time passes.
Fast-forward to my previous blog post titled “Prologue” (8/1/05)
After pretty much minding my own business, I come across MySpace, and after some time I then come across a picture of someone who just knocks me out. She was looking for someone… anyone… that’s “real”. Hmmmm…. So, after over a week of just twiddling my thumbs I decided “oh, what the heck”… and I risked sending her a message. The simplest, shortest message a guy could ever send. One that women say is the best way to strike up a conversation, right??? I mean, what could go wrong?
I sent her the dreaded one word message: “Hello.”
And I waited...
and waited…
and waited…
Seven days go by. She’s read the message. But no response. Either way.
Okay.
Just as I thought when I was younger, the simple “hello” obvious doesn’t work (despite that comprehensive scientific study… maybe they didn’t finish tabulating all the data).
Hmmmmm…
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