- Joined
- Jul 17, 2013
- Messages
- 1,540
This very seldom happens to me in cold approach, but I'd like to have a toolkit to deal with it when it does.
Today at about 7 PM I arrived at one of the ice rinks in our city: it's inside a bar/restaurant on the edge of one of the city's major parks. I went there purely for exercise and recreation, not for social reasons, and certainly not expecting to attempt to pick up. I walked through the bar area towards the rink, unfamiliar with the layout. When I got to what looked like the check-in area, the cashier looked at me quizzically from behind the counter, although there were people in front being served. It was pretty obvious what I wanted from the fact that I had my skates slung over my shoulder, but nonetheless I responded to her nonverbal inquiry in an assertive and deep tone, thus:
Thanks!
-Marty
Today at about 7 PM I arrived at one of the ice rinks in our city: it's inside a bar/restaurant on the edge of one of the city's major parks. I went there purely for exercise and recreation, not for social reasons, and certainly not expecting to attempt to pick up. I walked through the bar area towards the rink, unfamiliar with the layout. When I got to what looked like the check-in area, the cashier looked at me quizzically from behind the counter, although there were people in front being served. It was pretty obvious what I wanted from the fact that I had my skates slung over my shoulder, but nonetheless I responded to her nonverbal inquiry in an assertive and deep tone, thus:
- Marty: Where do I buy a ticket to the skating rink, please?
- CurlyBlonde: Are you from England?
Marty: Yes... What about you, where are you from?
CurlyBlonde: Here, but my father's side of the family is from England, that's why I recognized your accent.
Marty: How old are you? (Let's get that out of the way at once! —I'm thinking)
CurlyBlonde: Nineteen.
Marty: Did you say nineteen?
CurlyBlonde: Yes, 19.
Marty: What's your name?
CurlyBlonde: CurlyBlonde.
Marty: Nice to meet you, CurlyBlonde. (taking her hand, smiling) I'm Marty. Is this your mom?
CurlyBlonde: Yes.
- Marty: So, CurlyBlonde, are you studying?
CurlyBlonde: Yes.
Marty: At university here, in this state?
CurlyBlonde: No... (she names a state on the opposite coast)
Marty: Are you back here for Christmas with your parents?
CurlyBlonde: Yes.
Marty: What do you study?
CurlyBlonde: Psychology.
Marty: Psychology, huh? (wink, smile) I'll bet you can see right through me, can't you?
CurlyBlonde: (laughs)
Marty: Do you want to become a clinical psychologist?
- Marty: How much longer are you staying in state, CurlyBlonde? When do you go back to the other coast?
CurlyBlonde: Monday. (I assume she means a week on Monday, hardly likely to haul ass before Christmas.)
Marty: That's not very long... Care to grab a coffee before you leave? When you're not with your Mom?
CurlyBlonde: I don't have enough time, sorry. (not leaving though, smiling)
Marty: That busy, huh? Well, why don't you leave me your number in case your schedule frees up a bit?
CurlyBlonde: Okay... but you're too old for me anyway.
Marty: Too old? I'm shocked you could think that! How old do you suppose I am?
CurlyBlonde: Mmmmm... 24, 25 maybe? (This must be some sort of a girl-joke at my expense... I've had this once before. I'm 38 and, though in fine physical shape, in all honesty I look around 43.)
Marty: Now you're kidding me around!
CurlyBlonde: Not at all!
Marty: Okay, so how about giving me that number.
CurlyBlonde: No. ("read-my-lips"–style) You ... are ... too ... old ... for ... me! (departs)
Thanks!
-Marty