The Art of Pick-Up and the X Factor.
by hannah
February 26th, 2010
Maybe I should have read the book before writing this blog post, and maybe I’ll pick up the book this weekend to further my musings; but, my experience of last night compels me to write about this today. As I drink lemon-ginger water to cure my hangover.
Last night a pick-up artist tried to pick me up. Yes, one of these secret society guys that classifies himself as a geek or loser that has little chance of ever scoring with the chick of his dreams. Or did at one time. Until he went through the twelve-step “become a stud” program and reversed his ill fate.
I was standing in a line at a club (hell), but I had promised an aquaintence I’d be there for her birthday party. There was some confusion with the reservation (surprise) and she wasn’t there yet, so I was stuck (lame). Suddenly a crew of four guys walks by. One of them opens, with some kind of compliment. OK that’s always nice to hear. And then tells me, he can get me into the club. I agree, because I’m pissed about the line, and this birthday chick is nowhere in sight.