Dating can be a strenuous environment for the unaware, unwary and the just plain unlucky, so we here at Real Monkeys Play With Knives (by which I mean me…yes, yes I know the ramifications of referring to myself in a plural context, but the other voices need recognition too!) want to help the lonely, desperate, frightened singles out there, mainly because they are the only ones that will probably take any of this advice seriously.
The ice breaker or “pick-up line” is the classic opening salvo in a chess-like banter of: will you (not likely) or won’t you (pretty much bet on it). In using this classic form of flattery/humor/desperation most people tend to stick to the tried and true one liners that everyone’s heard and a friend of a friend of a friend swears works for them every time. These phrases may have worked great in the seventies but they have gone the way of displaying medallions on hairy chests and “The Hustle” (it’s a dance, look it up… if I have to explain the references I make, this may take some time to read) People are very literal these days and may take your clumsy attempt at seduction the wrong way.
For Example: You’re at the bar and you see a fine specimen of (insert derogatory descriptive here). You manage to get close enough to the object of your momentary lust to talk over the jukebox and you blurt out: “Is it hot in here or is it just you?” Now, your intentions were that they would see a small amount of flattery in your bumbling efforts, think it was cute and continue the conversation with a possibility of this round of flirting culminating in the securing of “digits”. However, in this literal world of ours, he/she/it/they (I don’t know your particular attractions, I’m just trying to help here) may take it as the bar is particularly crowded tonight and you would like some breathing room as you may faint from lack of proper ventilation. Not exactly what you were intending.
Let’s look at another of the classics, shall we:
Perhaps you are at the club and you spot Mr. or Mrs. Right-Now across the floor. You shake your groove thing until you are near them and shout out “What’s a nice boy/girl/cephalopod (you’d be surprised at how often cephalopods get hit on at the bar) doing in a place like this?” Once again the hope is that the object of your desire finds this adorable in some way and continues the conversation. This particular pick-up line is faulty in so many ways. For instance, they may know the owner or be the owner of the club and take it as a personal insult, shiv you on the dance floor and leave you to bleed to death to the beats of Top 40 hits….no one deserves to die like that…or they may roll their eyes and walk away (possibly while squirting ink to disguise their escape route in the case of the cephalopods and some more experienced club goers) … but the most damaging result is the perception they get when they question why you fit in so well in “a place like this” when “nice” people obviously don’t
I guess the lesson here is to be yourself, (unless you’re a disgusting, foul-mouthed, slime ball, then perhaps be someone else for a change) relax, have fun and remember although the object of your attention is not as nearly as scared as you are, it helps to think that they are
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