Friday, 8 July 2011

Making a Connection

I'm now going to tell you my favourite personal pick-up story. And then I'm going to ask you to share yours. So get ready, cause here goes:

It was a cold January night, but I was hyped up to go clubbing with this crew that I sometimes hang out with. It had been a while since I'd been out and about in the les-bi scene, and being recently single, I was ready to have a wicked, regrettable, alcohol-infused time. My gut feeling told me that this would be a good night, and I was right.

While lining up at the front of the straight-turned-gay-for-the-night club that was our crew's destination (and this was a real line-up, not the artificial kind that's just meant to make a club *look* busy when inside it's dead), I saw this pretty Asian lady wearing a one-of-a-kind kind of jacket. Words cannot do it justice. Let's just say it was an unforgettable item of clothing.

So of course, I had to compliment this sexy girl on her jacket. I struck up the conversation, and before I knew it, we were chatting away at the coat check. And what were we talking about? Well...she wanted to know what I did, so I made her guess my job (and kudos to you, reader, if you can guess it too, even though I've given you no hints). In fact, she loved that I'm a ________.

What next? Well, I certainly couldn't have her get bored of me too quickly. So I told her, soon after we had both paid far too much just to get into the club and secure our coats, that I'd catch her later.

After a bit of time and a few drinks had gone by, I did see this girl again by the bar. And wouldn't you know - she called me over and bought me a drink. Bonus points for her - I'm always flattered and amused if femme girls buy me drinks when I'm looking more butch (I can dress either way, depending on my mood).

And you know what else is fun? Dancing at a club (pet peeve - chicks who go to a club and don't dance there. Why the hell are they there? Let go of your inhibitions a bit, girls!). So I took her by the hand, pulled her onto the dance floor, and got her to loosen up a bit. 

The pivotal moment came when we had been dancing for a while, and I knew she was into me from the way she was letting me put my hands all over her (you always have to see how far you can go, I figure). So I said, with just the right amount of cockiness, "You're thinking about kissing me, aren't you?". Of course she was. And I gave her what she wanted.

Before the end of the night, I grabbed her number using a technique that's worked for me before (reach for the girl's phone, say "Let me give you my number", input my number into her phone, and then have her do the same with my phone). And before she left the club with her friends, I made sure to text her a nice-yet-naughty message. Game, set, and match right there.


Oh yeah, finished off the night by spontaneously getting into a limo with my crew, and making out with a former hook-up in that group before finally making it home somehow. Just by myself, mind you, but nothing wrong with that after a night of feeling like hot shit ;).

You may be wondering how things turned out with this girl with the fabulous jacket? Well that's a story for another time.

Now tell us about your favourite pick-up memory...?

1 comment:

  1. Wow, nice story. I liked it, it sorta encouraged me to be more brave in the matter of picking up ladies at the parties. I have just a pick-up story, and it's a pretty shabby one from a couple of years ago, but well... Here I go: when I had 16th years old, my sister and I went to a gay club to help me find some ladies who loved ladies (at that time, it seemed like they didn't exist in my town at all) and well... It didn't go as smoothly as planned. I didn't gather the courage to talk to the girls I found attractive, because I feared that they were straight for their looks (they were very feminine, and that "gay" bar was crowded with straight people). Besides, There were plenty of boys who kept thinking that I was the straight one and my sis the lesbian when it was the other way around. Then, in the middle of that weird scenario, a girl asked me to dance. A pretty one, blonde and all. At first I didn't heard her well with all the music of the disco, but after understanding her I accepted and we went to dance. It was fun, I just had vodka and I felt a little dizzy, in a kinda happy way. We danced for a while, a little dazzled and intoxicated, and then she started asking me some questions. My name and all. That was not a problem. The problem was when she had to ask about my goddam age. Turns out that she had 19 and, being the idiot I was, I actually said to her the truth. She didn't wanted to have anything with me just because I was 16, so we just split up awkwardly and feeling like that had been a total disaster. And that's my fabulous pick-up story! I hope that, If I go to a gay bar again, I'll be more brave and lucky enough to get a lady.