A New Pick-up Line

The art of the pick-up line is just that an art. There have been TV shows made, articles written, and many a conversation had about what works and what does not. Well, I have discovered a new pick-up line. A new way to get what you need.

In the evening at the conference, there are parties galore. There are huge public parties that are sponsored by the conference and then there are smaller private parties. I was lucky to get invites to three private parties. I made sure on the first night to make it out the single bloggers party. These were my people; this was my tribe.

The single blogger party was being thrown at the nightclub Float at the Hard Rock Hotel San Diego. I had on a hot new cocktail dress. The party was fun and chic. I talked and drank until the party ended. As I was leaving, I struck up a conversation with a promoter at the front door of the club. Don’t ask me how or why, but I found myself chatting with him. I think it had to do with the swag bag I had in my hand. I was going through the bag telling him about what was in it, and proceeded to pull out the packages of condoms that I had gotten at another party. And you can well imagine (and what I wasn’t grasping at the time) he was thinking I was DTF. That’s a Jersey Short reference if you don’t know what DTF is. Google it. He says, “What’s your number?” I start to give it to him, knowing full well that I am totally giving him a fake number. I’m slightly intoxicated but not drunk. I’m going back to my hotel and going to bed. I’m not hooking up with a club promoter hours from now. So I start to leave when he gets distracted while getting my number, but he calls me back and I finish giving him my fake number. I feel bad for whoever has that number, but a girl’s got to do what a girl has got to do.

While I’m flattered he wanted my number, I think it had more to do with my intoxication and my condoms. So if you are DTF and need a partner, start pulling condoms out in conversations and I’m sure you’ll get what you want.

Yes, I’m still wondering what I was thinking that night.

Cougars on the Prowl

Over the weekend, I went out with Ms. Amy and Ms. Lynn to a fun day and night in Annapolis. If you have never been there, it's worth the trip. I've been there a million times, but it's a quaint historic seaside city (really town) that is the sailing capital of the US. And home to the US Naval Academy - oh those boys in dress whites - it makes your heart flutter every time (even if I'm getting alittle (alot) too old for them).

So after many activities and eating and encounters, we headed over at dusk to our favorite bar in town which just happens to be on a dock in the middle of the city - yep out there in the open, no guard rails, nothing - pull right up with your boat. You get used to being around water here - most people can fish someone else out (me included - thanks Mom for making me take those lessons at age 8).

So we're standing around and after Lynn meets a creepy guy and we lose him, we suddenly find ourselves talking to these three guys. They just weasel their way into our little conversation. It was smooth. Props to you frat guys! They are fraternity brothers. One looks very young. One is a lawyer and one is a native son. We are having a nice time talking to these guys. And eventually we get asked our ages. And the three of us just smile. We convince them to tell us their ages first. We've got 23, 24, and 26!! Winner winner chicken dinner! We are cougars! So they guess ours. They had good manners - we got 25, 26, maybe 28?? Yeah, finally Amy said, "Yeah, I'm 32." Our attorney friend (actually they all did) recovered from the shock really well. We laughed at him anyway. They got the picture - we were older, but damn we must have looked good.

Really we probably did because we were relaxed and happy (we weren't dressed to kill and were sweaty).

And we just kept talking. But I had to leave eventually to get home for my race the next day so we said our goodbyes. No numbers given by me - it was the atmosphere of a summer flirtation. Just that giddiness of summer in the air and rum drinks in our hands didn't make me want to be serious for the night.

No numbers out...

OK - now community college guy is talking to me. I think he is attempting to flirt with me...Ugh!

Maybe I look young enough to be in college (HA! What am I thinking?)

OK - he's gone back to his work, terrible music, and biting his nails...

This is all going on after I sat down and he nervously darted around Starbucks for 10 minutes...

Believe me I don't look that good. I have no make-up on and the remnants of an oatmeal and yogurt face mask on my arm. It must be my glowing skin from the mask!!!!

OK. I think he got the hint. No number from me tonight.

Always carry business cards...

I wasn't planning to post tonight. I am sick with a cold, but thanks to this blog and my mission, I was going to sacrifice a post by going to happy hour instead (I know - I'm such a martyr). But it's not the easiest to run out to a bar alone (no problem out of town but in town - haven't mustered the courage), and I needed a break from the internet dating. So I was forcing myself to go to a happy hour planned by my friends to raise money for Team Red, White, and Blue (a charity that mentors and supports returning soliders and their families) even though (per Ann) I sounded like Marisa Tomei in "My Cousin Vinny". Amy happily came along as my wing woman (she won 2 prizes in the raffle).

So happy hour was nice and relaxing - uneventful. I won nothing. We laughed; we talked. We had a few beers. And then we went down to the main bar. We were both hungry and needed dinner. So the only seats were at the bar. Sitting at a bar is a great place to meet guys. I don't know what it is - but it's so easy to make conversation with a cute guy when you are sitting at the bar (but you need only one friend - too many wing women - no guys talking). I love sitting at the bar.

Anyway, before I know it, there a few guys that sit down next to me at the bar. And I start checking them out. Who cares? I'm writing a blog about dating - I'm looking for a husband. I can't let any opportunity pass me by. So I start exchanging words with the one sitting next to me. Off and on - nothing terribly exciting, but still charming. But after we both finish eating, we strike up a conversation. Amy, being the great wing woman that she is, occupies herself, but I know that it's getting late (late for the time we said we were going to stay out). Thank goodness, I'm not wasted or even buzzed. I start digging around in my purse while Amy pays the check. Jackpot!! I find the case of business cards that I usually have thrown into my purse. I pull one out and put on my coat while another guy talks to me. So as I finish, putting on my coat, the other guy leaves and I say to the guy at the bar, "Here's my card. We should go out sometime." He says, "I don't even know your name". I tell him mine and he tells me his. He takes my card. We shake hands and Amy and I are out the door. It was so slick and so smooth.

Amy tells me as we are crossing the street outside the bar that I was so slick and cool. I get a low five. She's amazed at my huevos. Who knows if he'll call or email, but this girl has game!

Delay in programming

Sorry for the delay in programming. I was planning on getting the continuation of my story out before dinner time today but other things got in the way.

Dinner plans and an impromptu shopping trip to Old Navy has left me with 2 new hot summer dresses and a tunic and a huge catchup with Lynnie.

Lynn and I did get hit on by "Dr. Endocrinologist" in the bar at Matchbox. Props to your Dr. E for hitting on two girls that were clearly in a deep conversation and glasses of wine. Your weird necklace and tight designer henley shirt confused and intrigued me, but in the end we were in deep catch up mode and couldn't be swayed to join you and your friends. It happens. But you've got balls, sir.