Thursday, 28 February 2008

Dave: on the pull alone


So many films have captured the romantic ideal of the straightforward pull. Picture the dimly lit bar in some American city, usually East or West coast. Devoid of custom or rammed to the ceiling. A man trudges in, seats himself at the bar and orders a Scotch. Inevitably, there will be at least one woman (usually the same age or possibly younger) also at said bar. And also drinking alone. A brief back and forth of monosyllabic decadence, several more inexpensive drinks and bobs your uncle. Another notch on the bedpost. Or most likely a scratch on the crack-riddled, nicotine-stained wall behind your manky pillow.

Unfortunately, opportunities like this just do not exist. Indeed, did they ever? Was it an entirely fictional premise? In the days when film was based around escapist entertainment as opposed to the modern obsession with documentaries, attempted realism and all the other genres designed to cull the population through mass suicide.

Where is there to go for the opportunity of engaging with a woman you’re yet to meet without either being surrounded by your pissed up mates or having to earn the approval of hers? It’s incredibly rare to see a woman drinking alone in a pub these days. And even in this modern day Pompeii, immediate suspicions surround the lone male drinker. It seems your only way to secure access over the ramparts and into her acknowledgment of your existence is through the company you’re keeping. Even then to cross the moat, you’d need to bring your mates into the conversation. Getting her to relax with raucous tales of the night Gerry got arrested for simulating sex with a traffic cone on the bonnet of a parked police car, blissfully unaware of its inhabitants. I was going to keep going with the impenetrable fortress analogy with a further Portcullis reference. But I think the moat was touching on dangerous ground so I shall not over egg the pudding.

There are clubs, I suppose. An illegitimate free for all for the worst type of primeval butt-rutters. However, owing to the volume of music, it’s less a convenient system of flirting and more a place to get away with touching someone up. Call me over-sensitive but personally I’d rather not end an evening, having misread the signals of one particularly seductive dancer, being made to feel a would-be molester. With that kind of guilt swimming around your head you wouldn’t even be able to go home alone and touch yourself up. Well, not unless you’re a very bad man.

Then some bright spark fooled the public into giving Speed-dating a go. Thank fuck that ludicrous phenomenon died a three minute death. It takes that long to exchange flirtatious glances and breathless pauses between generic compliments. Having a stranger rattling off his or her career, personal or sexual history at pace is precisely why women avoid drinking alone in pubs in the first place. Where’s the appeal in having to sell yourself like a reduced infomercial?

“I dunno, Bob, I’d sure like a little extra for my money.”

“Well, hold on there, Chad. I’m also gonna throw in good hygiene, a winning smile AND a BA(hons) in caring for small furry animals!”

The notion of potential suitors passing between school desks via conveyor belt in order to present a favourable account of themselves before the princess doesn’t even have a novelty factor. Especially when you’re bound to encounter her ugly evil stepsister at the next table.
And of course the infamous Singles nights held discreetly in the function room above your local pub. Advertised as thirty and up, to encompass a broad scope in clientele. But in actual fact only attracting men over sixty hoping for so nubile younger totty, and to there dismay discovering the women had the same idea. The only woman in her thirties whom actually turns up, invariably brings a male friend for moral support. They then spend the first half an hour chatting exclusively to each other before bogging off downstairs to main body of the pub and people nearer their own age group.

So what’s a guy to do? Enlist his friends, rally acquaintances, pay the odd stranger to stand next to him laughing at his hilarious tales of derring-do? Does he have to wait around for the next work-do or birthday party to try and get his end away? Or is it the soul-destroying solo night at a cheesy club, whereby you feel too depressed to channel any appeal into your visage and just end up getting smashed on extortionately priced vodka. But it makes no difference at this point because you’ve been gradually deafened by the excessive thumping generated by some Dutch ‘musician’ with an adjective for a surname.

8 comments:

Boy said...

Ah, in the end of the day it's all about what you want. If you want a bit of a fling or whatever then clubs are usually the best way of going about. However, if you're talking about seriously meeting someone, then alas this usually can't be rushed, and instead happen by nature.

However, it's possible to encourage this to happen; It's all about meeting new people. So, go out with friends-of-friends, and you'll get lots of "o and this is Jessica..." type things. You'll find a spark eventually. Work's another good one. I met my now ex-girlfriend of 3 years when I was working behind a bar.

badgerdaddy said...

The way is to not go out with pulling on your mind, even if you're alone.

I'm a sad bastard who sits at a bar or in a pub with a book, because I fancy a few drinks and don't necessarily want any company. It's the perfect fuck-off - but it's also the perfect means to instigating conversation from strangers. You then either make it a fuck off or an invite.

It's particularly inviting to women, it seems - very, very often when I'm reading in a pub, I get totty-like lay-dees coming over and ordering drinks next to me - as one does - then chatting away happily. I think it must take away some perceived threat or something, like I'm not there to pick up chicks, and I can read, so I'm probably not that bad, or something.

Also, being quite confident helps - most blokes apparently feel to self conscious (or think it's too fucking sad) to read in a pub, alone, to go and do it. Personally, I love it, and I've got the bollocks of a mountain lion. They're boiling up now, for soup.

Fucking hell, those are my tits on the floor! I must have bored my own tits off while writing this...

Clair said...

Badgerdaddy, most excellent! Girls love a book, and for the laydeez, I'm more than happy to go into a pub alone with some reading matter and talk literature...and then some more. Anywhere that doesn't have music that rattles your earwax is good for all this.

Anonymous said...

I really haven't been to too many pubs where conditions would be conducive to reading a book. Usually, dim lighting and a crowded bar would mean that you'd have to read with your nose an inch from the page.

I think you might be better off at hobby classes or weekend activity placec. Sure, it means dragging your ass out of bed on a Saturday morning to go watch an obscure Italian movie, but at least, you're assured of a topic to talk about and hardly anyone suspects your motives since it's still daylight outside!

Pepe said...

There is a Spanish saying that comes to my mind now: "Hunger gives bad advice" -meaning that people who are very needy are likely to do desperate and foolish things.
This could be applied to sex, too. A sex-starved man will often behave in a way that actually makes it hard for him to engage in any relationship. My advice to someone in such a situation would be "Don't let it show!". Watch your body language, try to look relaxed, don't ogle women's breasts, don't talk about sex. In a word, don't give people the impression that you are desperate for sex. If you look desperate (Sam dealt brilliantly with this in his post about "desperitis") people will assume that you are in such a condition because you lack social skills, because there is something wrong with you -and that won't help you at all.
Don't have unreasonable expectations but don't hook up with the first person who notices you (unless you like her, of course). Don't be afraid of waiting. It is possible to do without food and without sex longer than most of us believe. In the meantime, try the time-honoured tips to make yourself more attractive (or less unattractive): adopt healthier eating habits -which will help you lose some weight-, go to a gym, get a *normal* haircut (that means what is normal now, not what was normal 20 years ago) and wash your hair as often as necessary, get *normal* clothes (that doesn't mean latest fashion clothes in which you would look funny, it means jeans that fit plus something else that doesn't look old or colourless), have a shower at least once a day, look after your teeth (use dental floss, visit your dentist periodically), use a mouthwasher (not the classic one, which burns like napalm -something milder). And be optimistic. There has to be someone who finds you interesting and who you find interesting too.
And if there is no one, what the hell, celibacy has plenty of good things too... :-)

piglet said...

One hint: join a dance class. Works at least where I live (dark, cold, girls are desperate to find a dance partner) - there are always more girls than guys who'd like to participate. Even if you don't find your one and only there, a good dancing skill can go a long way.

BTW, in my girly opinion there is nothing wrong with old and colourless clothes, as long as they are reasonably clean.

Ms. Mary Mack said...

I have been single for two years now, and I think it is mostly because it is hard to meet someone. I work at home, and I'm not a party person. My friends say I won't met anyone at home, but I say al the people I wnat to met are probably at home too.

Buy Cialis said...

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