The Pick Up Techniques No Woman Can Resist!
A man walks up to the registers at his local bookstore, clutching a “how to” guide about picking up girls.
“Let me know how that goes for you,” says the gorgeous, buxom blonde as she swipes his credit card.
“Why, are you interested?” asks the man, beaming happily.
“No,” she replies. “But if it works for you, then it’ll work for anyone.”
This is not, so far as I know, a true story. However, it does cross my mind every time I’m browsing, online or in a store, and come across yet another in that long, long line of titles dedicated to teaching a guy to score... to get lucky... to have a great sex life with an endless succession of stunning sexy sirens.
I’m just guessing here, and I hope I don’t offend anyone... But seriously, if you’re so desperate to meet someone that you’ll put out hard cash for the same book that probably every other desperate-to-meet-someone soul out there is also buying, then surely the trick would be to not buy the book, and come up with an original approach of your own, right? And, if you need further proof of that, consider this... There are a lot of books out there telling guys how to pick up girls; there's not so many, however, that tell a girl how to get picked up.
No, I’m not talking about the “hook a hunk in three easy steps” guides that Certain Women's Magazines like to recycle. I'm also not talking about the ones that take the aforementioned “how to” guides and just jumble up the genders. I'm not even talking about the ever-popular “How To Have Men Writhing At Your Feet Without Actually Doing Anything" titles, which might as well come with a red light on the front cover -- or a taser. I mean a straightforward guide for how to get picked up... okay, here’s an example.
A few days ago, a male workmate and I went to lunch together. We went to a not-too-crowded sandwich bar, with two cups on the table, and two plates with crumbs. He excused himself to go powder his nose, or whatever it is that men do when they leave the table mid-conversation, and the next guy through the front door was virtually signaling to the waitress to come and take his order, dropping his coat down on the just-vacated chair, before he asked me if anyone was sitting there.
I nodded to my companion's half-full coffee cup and murmured something I’m not too proud of, and he was away, because he’d already spotted another single female diner (and she was cuter than I am. Grr). When my workmate came back and I told him what had happened, he just laughed. “Don’t worry. I’d have moved,” he told me. This just goes to show you that not only do they read the same books, but they also have a shared sense of propriety, as well.
Now, I will just point out that I was not looking to be picked up that lunchtime. My break had only a few more minutes to go, and if I’m going to be entranced by a total stranger, I’d like it to last a little longer than that. However, if I had been looking for this... in a sandwich bar, at a bus stop, in the library, in the supermarket... what would have been the right thing to do?
I’m glad I asked.
The Art of Getting Picked Up is not an easy one to master. The tale above proves that it can happen at any place, and it’s impossible to be prepared for every occasion. That's not to mention that it's a little presumptuous. There are some places where the most alluring woman in the world probably wouldn’t expect to be zeroed in upon, and I think we can all name a few of them from experience. My worst was the hospital ED. I had a suspected broken wrist, and my would-be suitor had... eww, I really don’t want to know.
Still, a few basic ground rules might not cover every eventuality, but they do allow for a degree of stage-management, and that is the key to every situation. The first rule of that is, stay cool. Returning to the theme of desperation, the only thing I can think of that is more off-putting than the over-zealous hunter is the over-eager prey. It doesn’t matter how many of your personal boxes this prospective Lothario has already checked, as the crucial point is to ensure that he keeps on checking them.
The moment you show more than a passing, vague interest in anything he says or does is the moment he moves to the next stage of his master plan, suggesting that you go outside for some fresh air. And that's probably with one hand already on your ass.
How cool should you be? A friend of mine has been playing hard to get with a motorbike messenger boy for the last three weeks, and we all know she wants nothing more than to get her legs wrapped around his saddlebags. However, the most seductive thing she’s said to him so far was “nice frames” when she noticed his glasses for the first time. She's said nothing about his leathers, his bike, and nothing about his delightfully large package (the one that he was delivering to her office). However, he hasn’t lost an iota of the interest he showed the first time he saw her, and she is dead set on keeping things that way.
Do You Come Here Often?
Picking up a girl... or a guy... is all about saying and doing the right things. The art of being picked up is all about precisely the same. Except, whereas the would-be picker is throwing out ever more fascinating comments, and racking his (or her) brain to come up with even more, the potentially picked is... well, she’s not quite deflecting them. However, if you can imagine her standing behind an invisible force field, even the bon-nest mot can do no more than hit the wall, then drop to the floor, not so far from her feet that she can’t surreptitiously study it, but not so close that she is visibly clutching it to her breast. You could call it indulgent indifference.
He mentions a possible mutual interest; she neither acknowledges or dismisses the assumption. He asks the kind of music she likes; she smiles and then baffles him with non-committal allure. “It depends what I’m doing” is always a good one, because it opens the door to so many possibilities, few of which he will be confident to broach.
Body language is crucial. You can learn a lot about a guy from the way he holds himself when he’s hoping to make a good impression. Is he shy? Is he brash? Does he think he’s irresistible? Did he remember to use a deodorant this evening?
The thing is, if he’s paying attention and not allowing his loins to do all his thinking, he is probably learning a lot about you, too. The way you keep your distance, yet are not so far away that he needs to speak loudly. The way you maintain eye contact, but not so devoutly that you haven’t checked out what he’s wearing -- or how well he wears it. Also, the way you ever so gently touched his hand when he graciously lit your cigarette, assuming you smoke. If you don’t - well, you’ll have to find another way of making that all-important, but so innocent first contact.
Who is he? We all know, because we all do it, the person who is trying to make a good impression is often quite unlike the person who is actually on the inside. Embarrassing personal habits are subverted, inappropriate sentiments, and nerd-ish fascinations are left at home. A good picker-upper should aspire to be the most fascinating guy you’ve talked to all evening. And you, because you are playing the same game of hide-and-seek with your natural persona, should aspire to be the most unattainable goddess he has ever set eyes on.
At least to a point, anyway. Even the most faithful hound needs to be thrown a bone on occasion, and here it comes.
“Shall we dance?” he asks, and you resist the temptation to say “I thought we already were.” Okay, we’re assuming we’re in a nightclub here, or at least some place where other people are dancing. Other situations demand other responses, but all the way, in every way, he’s the one who must take the lead; he’s the one who is doing the work. Yes, we could go off on a tangent here and talk about how the modern girl is all about taking control, but what that really means is we flip-flop the roles that the current scenario has assigned. Besides, sometimes it’s nice to just sit back and be vague.
Where were we? Dancing. Slow dancing. How did that happen? Damn the DJ.
Remember when you were younger, and boys used to talk about “bases”? How Jimmy got to first base, and Jerry got to second, and we would tut and grumble, discussing their immaturity (the adolescent girl’s favorite word!), while deep down wishing that someone had got to second base with us. This is kind of the same thing, only on a far more lavish scale. First base is when he initially shows his interest, by coming over to talk at the outset. Second base is when you make that first body contact, when he escorts you onto the dance floor... or stands behind you in the moshpit. Or in the crowd at the bar, or however you arrange it.
And third base? Third base is when he is pressed up against you and, through the fabric of his pants, you discover just how interested he really is. Which, in turn, often determines precisely how the rest of the evening is going to pan out.
No! No, I am not saying you’re going to go home with him just because he pressed his hard-on against your thigh. I’m saying you’ve reached that point where you know in your own mind whether his reaction to the situation is along the same lines as your own, and it may well be that that sudden contact is what prompts you to make your excuses and leave.
Or maybe you want to take the investigation a little further, so you nestle yourself against him with just enough firmness (and an inadvertent wriggle) to ensure that he notices. And yes, you can generally tell if he does notice. Twitch. However, when he inclines his head to kiss you, which he will now invariably do, you ensure that your lips are just a little out of range, and see how he reacts to that.
You can keep this going all night -- which, if he continues to play his cards right, you will. However, we will leave our lesson at that point for now, with everything still hanging on the thread of unspoken promises. In part two, we will talk about how to behave once he’s got you home.
Assuming he does.
Assuming you don’t take him back to your place.
Also assuming... no, we’ll leave that for next time, too.
To be continued.