Friday, May 27, 2005
So I’m getting a little better at figuring out when someone’s hitting on me. I remember a New Year’s party, many moons ago, when this cute, older dyke engaged me in a very intense conversation. There was hand to knee contact, she got me a drink, she laughed at my dumb jokes, she said flattering things about my work and I was CLUELESS. My friend List, who was giving me a ride home, asked if perhaps I’d like to stay at the party longer and I was like “Nah, that’s okay” and we left. On the way to the car, he asks me “Don’t you like Clothilde [not her real name, but it SOUNDS like her real name]?” I said “Well, sure, she’s cool!” because she was and he said “Yeah, well. She was TOTALLY hitting on you.”
Whaaaa?
It was good to note, in a line up for a Fringe show last summer, that I am not the only clueless creampuff in the mix. This short, pony-tailed young man, who we’ll call Brevor, was hitting on my girlfriend WHILE I WAS HOLDING HER HAND. Katr thought he was just “making conversation". “Oh, honey,” I said “when a guy says things like ‘Well, I thought my day was completely ruined, but it might be salvaged . . . if I get to see YOU again’, it’s not because he’s making conversation. Also, he was staring at your chest like it was the breakfast buffet. But not a Shitty Griddle buffet, a good buffet, the kind you’d be in awe of. Like a Four Seasons buffet.”
I think that our creampuff confusion at being hit on stems from the fact that we ARE creampuffs and perhaps haven’t had as much experience with the pick up as some of our skinnier friends. It’s rare that I’ll get hit on in actual social situations. But I HAVE been hit on at the subway station, on the Bay bus, in a cab (by the driver), in the alley behind my building, in the computer lab at school, on the street. And, as I said, I am getting a little better at reading these situations.
For example, I was on my way to meet Mipa for brunch on Monday and as I was walking onto the subway platform, this gentleman calls out “Excuse me!” I stop, ready to explain that my watch is broken and that I don’t have the time. As he comes towards me, however, I can see that I’m having the Four Seasons effect. He makes it easy for me by opening with “You are very pretty. Are you married?”
It’s disappointing to me that I’m not giving off the universal “lesbian” vibe. Don’t tell me there isn’t one, there’s GOT to be, if I could just FIND it. I sometimes wonder if I should just shave my head, wear overalls, get the Earth Mother of Willendorf tattooed on my arm and call it a day. Although, to be fair, it is my experience, with the types of guys who hit on me, that lesbianism “doesn’t count".
It’s also disappointing that I’m not giving off an “I’m taken” vibe, but again, if I reveal that I’m in a relationship with a woman, they’ll nod wisely, taking that to mean that I’m just biding my time until the right man comes along.
Back in the days before I found true love, I found myself sometimes wishing that I liked the dick, because these guys are CUTE. They all have 3 things in common:
*They love my big ass.
*They’re from Africa - recently.
*They are very good looking.
The lines they use vary. “I’m new in town” is very popular, as is “Are you a Christian?” and “You have a very pretty face.” The first time it happened, I was very flustered and confused and still ostensibly straight and I ended up actually going on a date with one of these guys, which resulted in an unsolicited tonguing and a play entitled Back Off, Romeo Lovenuts. As my rebuffing efforts have improved, however, I’ve started to offer feedback on my admirers’ pick up techniques. I told one fellow that “I’d like to make babies with you” probably wasn’t going to land him a lot of dates on the subway, but when I asked one guy what he liked about me and he said “You look the way a woman is supposed to look", I told him he had a winner.
The guy I met Monday, Christopher, did pretty well. He didn’t bore me with chit chat but let me know where he was coming from right off the top. Once we’d established that this wasn’t going to work out due to my romantic involvement with another (gender neutral pronouns only) we talked a little about the kind of woman he’s looking for ("God fearing” was at the top of his list, ladies) and we finished up with a “nice to meet you” and “good luck with your search for love". I didn’t even get his phone number “in case my boyfriend didn’t work out", which is a first.
I don’t begrudge these guys their search for love in random public places, but I do wonder if those are the best locales to meet chicks. Then again, it is romantic, in an old fashioned kind of way. The same kind of way that Emilio Estevez’s crazy stalking of and surprise-attack-kissing of Andie MacDowell in St. Elmo’s Fire was romantic in the eighties. I don’t know about you guys, but give me online or heck, even speed dating any day, where the risk of rejection still exists, but at least we all know what we’re there for. And if you’re not hitting on me, you SHOULD be.
It’s true. You are very pretty.
Comment by Shbu — Monday, May 30, 2005 @ 6:28 pm
Oh Roro, how I love that you engaged him in conversation, with pick-up pointers no less. Awesome. Also - ‘the Four Seasons effect’. I will do my best to use it in a sentence three times today, because there is NO way I want to loose track of this one.
Comment by Berin — Monday, May 30, 2005 @ 7:28 pm
You could always send the poor schmucks on a scavenger hunt to prove their love, like some skinny bitch did to me once.
Comment by Mike, connoisseur des femmes grandes — Monday, May 30, 2005 @ 8:45 pm
Oh my god, Mike - BRILLIANT!! I’ll try that next time.
Comment by Rose — Monday, May 30, 2005 @ 9:23 pm