My usual SOP in going clubbing is not to pick up men. And I can say for a fact that I have never picked up anyone, or have been picked up yet. I just love going out with my girlfriends. And I like to dance, period.
I think I’m smart enough to know that though there are nice men in bars, it’s unlikely that you’ll find a guy who’s serious-relationship material in a bar. By my own guy friends’ admission, they usually go to bar to look for that easy lay.
So imagine the conflict of interests — I go to bars to dance and enjoy myself, and the men surrounding me are looking for an easy lay.
No wonder, the whole time I was there, I felt like a lamb surrounded by wolves.
That’s why, when I go clubbing, I don’t talk to men. They may talk to me, and I would of course respond politely, but usually, I’ll mind my own business and dance either with my friends or myself. Usually, when that happens, Taiwanese guys would slink away, while foreigners would look for their next target.
As a result, I don’t get to know a lot of guys in bars, which suits me equally fine.
One guy was different.
Most guys would try to use lame pickup lines to chat you up. I find this so funny and absurd. I’ve heard, “You’re so hot,” “You’re so beautiful,” and “You’re so sexy” so many times this past couple of months that my head could burst.
Not that I have low self-esteem, I am aware on how I look especially when I go clubbing. But come on! Don’t you have anything else to say?
And how about “Let me buy you a drink?” For a woman who only drinks a maximum of two drinks a night, that’s definitely not a good line to use. By the time they approach me, I’ve no need for anymore drinks.
The best lines in my experience is simply “Hello,” or “Hi, my name is XXXX… what’s yours?” Simple is better. Besides, it sounds a tad more sincere. Pick-up lines are lame. I’ve had enough of pick-up lines.
This guy introduced himself the normal way.
“Hi, my name is Mike,” he said. “What’s yours?”
I found it so funny that day. God knows how many Mikes are there in this world, but I still found it funny.
Tom Cruise-look alike was a Mike (See “I Met Tom Cruise Part I & II” entry). My best guy friend in Taiwan is named Michael. My ex was also a “Mich.” I’m surrounded by so many Mikes! And this guy, was again a Mike.
You can imagine what went in my head that moment, You’ve gotta be kidding me. *Roll eyes*
He looked at my cross necklace and made a comment. He asked me if I was Catholic, and I told him I was a Christian. He said that he goes to church once a month. He also told me he was of German descent.
Tom Cruise-Mike was also of German descent. *Roll eyes*
This is a bit too much of a coincidence for me. To top it off, he was also an English teacher. Tom Cruise-Mike was also a… yup, an English teacher.
So imagine my thoughts process. As unfair as it may be, he is a bit too much like Tom Cruise-Mike for my comfort. And Tom Cruise-Mike was a bit of a player, and so… this Mike must also be a player too.
I know, I know. Never judge a book by its name, descent and job. But I can’t help it! Experience has taught me not to trust guys easily, otherwise, you’ll be played.
This Mike was kind of good-looking as well. Of course, not as cute as Tom Cruise-Mike, but at least, he wasn’t fat and balding.
Geez, I’m surrounded with so many Mikes, I’m afraid I might end up with one. Needless to say, if I do have a son, I’ll definitely not call him Mike, that’s for sure.
This guy won’t be deterred. After indicating to him that I’m not interested, he still tried dancing with me. He dragged me to the dance floor at many opportunities. He was also trying to dance close, but I tried pushing him away. Gently.
I am not very comfortable dancing with men so closely. The only person I can ever do that with is if he’s my boyfriend. It’s just the way I am.
So there we were dancing. Good thing the music was good.
Don’t get me wrong. I liked the attention. But you can only take so much. He wasn’t so pushy, but he was pushier than most guys I’ve encountered. So though I would’ve preferred him to just take it easy, his pushiness was not so much as for me to ignore him completely for the rest of the night.
Finally, after gently avoiding him, he’s had enough. He asked me, “What can I do to get your number?”
“Ask,” I shouted loudly over the music. Straight questions often require straight answers.
And so he did. And I gave him mine. No harm there anyway, it’s just a number.
He then said that he’d like to get to know me better. *Hint, hint*
To which, I replied, “All right. But only in the daytime.” I didn’t want him to get the wrong kind of ideas.
As if I was going to make him even hope that I’m going home with him that day. Or any day. No way, Jose!
I know, I know. If a woman dresses sexily, has a sexy body, and does this hot dance, you’d immediately assume that she’s easy. But I’m not. Ooooh, I definitely am not. And I’m making it clear that I’m not.
I think I have more self-respect for that. I didn’t really care if he called me or not. As arrogant as I may sound right now, I sincerely feel that I am a catch. And if he doesn’t want to take the time to get to know me, it ain’t my loss. I have better things to do anyway than waste my time with a guy who only wants to get in my pants (or in this case, my skirt).
Finally, after some more light bantering, he grudgingly suggested that we meet up for coffee. We set the date, Sunday noon, at Starbucks. And I got to go home with Karen that day.
Round 1: A battle won.
But then again, who will win the war?
When we came out, it was already light. Around 6AM. I was definitely surprised. While we were underground, it didn’t look like morning, but outside, it was. Karen and I walked home. It was near enough. All in all, it was a great night. I had a lot of fun.
When I got home, he texted me, Hey Bonita, it was nice to see you tonight. See you on Sunday. Don’t be late.-Mike.
Couldn’t help but smile.
He may have been drunk. But he wasn’t THAT drunk.
Late for an hour to work today!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh! Hate it when that happens.
My office is 40 minutes away from the city central, so if I’m late, I’m really late. Freaking taxi took so long that I missed my bus by a measly 2 minutes!
Oh well, at least, I got to see the “happy” driver. He really makes my day!