Very late on Friday night, a guy I’d never seen before asked for my number and I gave it to him. I don’t remember his name or what he looked like, but I think he told me he was a comedian and a poet. I also think he told me he lived in Etobicoke, but I might have dreamed that. Later on, I found out that he had asked two of my friends for their numbers, as well. All of this sucks, because I’m going to have to ignore unfamiliar numbers for the next week or so and what if it’s Timothy Olyphant calling to say he thinks I’m funny?
I’m not sure why I gave him my number, but it might be because I come from a world where people don’t normally hit on people in bars. Some people do, but they’re usually notorious for doing so, and their behaviour is generally seen as a hazing ritual for new girls in town. Whenever I see a certain “Frederick Janke” on dates, I try to avoid eye contact with the girl, because chances are she already realizes she’s out with that guy and I don’t want to make it worse for her.
I avoid her fate by never trusting anyone who claims to find me attractive. If someone hits on me in a bar, I assume he’s doing it as part of that LARP game men have where they try to pick up women, or because he has sex compulsively. Either way, I figure he’s damaged goods. I have made mistakes in the past: once I gave my number to a good-looking guy on the streetcar. He called me four weekends in a row to tell me he’d call me the following weekend, then eight times in one afternoon from a pay phone. We never went on a date, but I fantasized about him for a long time, because craziness is attractive in theory.
The law of averages guarantees that every woman will succumb to an advance once in a while, which means there’s hope for you men out there who want to pick up women in bars. I am going to do you all a solid by offering tips on how to do that. It isn’t really a solid because I am getting paid for this, but I could have chosen to write about my ant problem, which is getting out of hand.
BRING A CHANGE OF SHIRT
If you’re one of those guys who hits on dozens of girls at a party because the law of averages says you’ll score at least once, show respect by changing your shirt between each attempt. No one will remember your face if your shirt is different. And you’ll be doing the girl who eventually goes home with you a solid, because she’ll never find out that you worked your way down to her.
FLAT-OUT PROPOSITION
If you hit on a girl, she will assume you’re crazy. I would. Who does that? Girls are used to being hit on by crazy guys. They are less used to being flat-out propositioned by guys who seem normal. You should make your proposition as filthy as possible and detail exactly what you’d like to do to her, because guys never do that kind of stuff. And you should practice doing the things you say you’re going to do, with a male friend if you need to, because you don’t want to promise her the moon and then grope her like you’re rifling for change.
DRY HUMPING
Once I went to a loft party in Montreal, and two minutes after I arrived, a guy wearing hot pants pulled me onto the dance floor and started rubbing his crotch into my thigh. I assumed he was gay until he asked me for sex (I said no). Later I found out that being dry humped by him was generally seen as a hazing ritual for new girls in town. That’s Montreal. Here, dry humping a stranger would be seen as very provocative. Even if the girl isn’t into it, she might admire you for being an innovator.
PRETEND YOU KNOW SOMEONE SHE KNOWS
By and large, I am more likely to sleep with a guy who knows people I know. References are important, because they help you determine who is nutty and who may be carrying something you don’t want. Even if I never check the references, just knowing that the guy knows people makes him seem better than average.
If you have your eye on a complete stranger, you should ask her if she knows someone with a really common name. If she goes, “Oh God, Matt Matt?” say “No, Matt–about yay tall?” (wave your hand up and down.) “Infectious laugh?” and so on until she goes “Oh, Matt!” If she finds out you don’t really know Matt, you can tell her you were thinking of another Matt.
GET A T-SHIRT MADE OUT OF YOUR CLEAN BILL OF HEALTH
The worst thing in the world isn’t waking up next to someone you don’t like that much. The worst thing in the world is waking up next to someone you don’t like that much and worrying about whether they ruined you for people you actually like. Everyone would have a lot more sex if STIs didn’t exist. Worrying about STIs, I think, is partly a way of sublimating social and emotional concerns around casual sex, but who wants any kind of infection?
The safest sex you can have is masturbation, but the second safest sex you can have is with a guy who just got a clean bill of health from the clinic and had it made into a T-shirt. Sexual health clinics should offer that service as a fundraising mechanism. The only problem is that you might have to change your shirt.
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Alexandra Molotkow writes about life and stuff for Toronto Standard. Follow her on Twitter at @alexmolotkow.
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