TKOG Who picks you up (only to put you back down)

Over on Secret Society of List Addicts, I make a few bizarre and perhaps horrible confessions that … perhaps I shouldn’t reveal?

NTKOG #220: The kind of desperately cheesy Loathario who, not trusting her own ability to seduce on the fly, lets a few tried and true pick-up lines do the dirty work for her.

I am: so into pick-up lines. They’re like bumper stickers for your libido! And hilarious to boot!

I am not: one to be unoriginal in my (imaginary) attempts to seduce men.

The Scene: A trio of attempted pick-ups! Each (spoiler alert!) more catastrophic than the last! I mean, what would you expect from the girl who has, non-ironically, trotted out such gems as: “Hey, why don’t you give me your number and save me the trouble of writing a Craigslist Missed Connection later?” and, mortifyingly, “You read cute.”

Whatever, I was in a library. Context is everything.

Humiliating rejection the first: The Paper Source on Boylston, simultaneously checking out wrapping paper and a tall intellectual type with green-tinted aviators. He was flipping through luxe envelopes and notecards, so I pounced.

TKOG: Hey, are you like making an invitation for an event?
Green-Tinted Aviator: Yeah, actually, for my nephew’s baby shower. Why?
TKOG: Well, this is — see, it’s so awkward because this sounds like a line or something, but — like, I’m also designing an invitation. For a party. And the awkward thing is — I know how this sounds, but the party is in my pants. And you’re — totally invited?

GTA stared at me for the three longest seconds of my life, then burst out laughing. “Good lord, that was awful. You’re not even wearing pants.”

I immediately came clean that I was just testing out pick-up lines to find the cheesiest. Afterwards, he asked for my opinion between two colors, and told me he was a graphic designer who always got roped into doing family favors. He also rather pointedly dropped the fact that he had a girlfriend.

We chatted for five minutes or so and, just before I left, I turned back to him. “So, just for research, if you hadn’t had a girlfriend, would you have totally fallen for my brilliant line?”

He snorted, not unkindly, before telling me: “Absolutely not.” Fair enough, sir.

Humiliating rejection the second: A bar on Commonwealth Avenue, where I stopped on my way home from the library for the express purpose of getting rejected. Oh the things we bloggers do.

Sat nursing a gin & ginger at the bar, before I locked eyes with a fratty BC Brah whose (male) tablemate had ditched him to grab another Miller Lite. Grabbed my glass and cross the bar in three decisive paces.

TKOG: Hey, so I noticed you noticing me and I wanted to let you know — I noticed you too.
BC Brah: What does that even mean?

Still game to keep up the charade, I started to parse the sentence for him, then noticed the pissy reek of domestic beer slamming through his pores. “I’m sorry,” I faltered, “I thought you were someone else,” then slammed the rest of my drink and slunk the hell out of Dodge.

Humiliating rejection the third: For the final attempt, decided to keep it classic with probably the best pick-up line I’ve ever seen used. (Okay, maybe on me. And maybe it worked. I thought it was ironic, guys.)

Sitting at the Boston Public Library after work, I was among the first of the usual suspects who haunt my particular little aisle of the mezzanine. And, I’d noticed with delight, the fellow regular I’ve nicknamed Hipster Geologist had yet to show up.

Screwed my courage to the sticking point and, ten minutes later, when he finally walked in, snap-pointed at him and said: “Cooooool.”

Just that. “Cool.” Look, I said it was my favorite pick-up line. I didn’t say it was a good one.

He looked down at himself in immediate consternation. “What?!”

“Cool,” I repeated sheepishly.

“What, like, my shirt or something?”

“Uh, yeah, just, like, y’know, the whole picture. Just. Cool. You seem cool. That’s what I was getting at.”

“Okay. Well. Thanks,” he said, then took his usual seat — which, for once, I began to regret was right across from mine. Fail.

The Verdict: A few days later, proud to report that the Hipster Geologist negotiation wasn’t quite as abysmal as I’d imagined. The next time I saw him in the library, he caught my eye and said hi, then looked immediately surprised he’d said it. Since then, we’ve been on waving terms when we see each other. Although, entre nous, I’m racked with the suspicion he’ll never think I’m entirely cool. Or cooooool, even.

Still, on balance, I was amused by the results of this experiment. I think if you choose your target right, a cheesy pick-up line — administered with self-awareness and the right amount of scorn for your source material — is a pretty funny and inoffensive way to open dialogue with someone. Which, last time I checked, was kind of the point of courtship?