Making sense of my adventures with women, one disaster at a time.

The Pickup Line

When I was 21, I went clubbing for the first time in Las Vegas. KayGee, Baba, Vince, Punchline, Etienne, and I went to Club Rain at the Palms Casino Resort. That night I illustrated the worst display of pickup lines in the history of my single life. I used the same two lines all night: 1) “You are like the hottest girl in here,” and 2) “You are like the second hottest girl in here.” I went an atrocious 0 for 42. When the club closed down, two of girls that I hit on even told me with contempt, “Come up with some better lines.” I laughed at them to try and portray confidence, but I was hurt. I secretly agreed with them. At one point in the night I cockblocked KayGee without even saying a word. I simply walked by him. He was speaking with an attractive girl and he waved to me. Moments later, her friend (some chick I had previously hit on) asked him, “Is THAT your friend?” He said, “Yeah.” The friend grabbed KayGee’s girl by the hand and said, “We have to go.” They took off. I have come a long way since that night.
I caught the tail end of Sandy’s day-party on 30th street. He promised hot girls, but I was later informed that the ten girls there all had boyfriends. We moved on to Woodys. We got there early and calculated a solid 3:2 girl to guy ratio. I was feeling a good buzz in a matter of minutes and began another sleazy adventure on the 12th day of 2008. These are the results (Some of these dialogues were longer than others. I have only included the first couple lines in each. Not even my memory can include the entire dialogue):

Girl 1

Me: Did you just buy that guy those drinks?

Her: Yeah.

Me: Aww you’re so nice (She walked away).

-0 for 1


Girl 2

Me: Who are you texting?

Her: My friends, they’re in line.

-0 for 2


Girl 3

Me: Who are you texting?

Her: My boyfriend.

-0 for 3


Girl 4

Me: Weren’t you at Sandy’s party?

Her: Yeah.

Me: Did you win the pool? (Referring to the Patriot-Jags square thingy)

Her: No.

-0 for 4


Girl 5 (Was wearing a white T-shirt that had a picture of a frowning bride and groom with the words “Big Mistake” underneath them)

Me: (Pointing to her shirt) Are you married?

Her: No.

-0 for 5


Girl 6 (Was standing with her two friends that were getting hit on by two dudes. I squeezed in along the baseline)

Me: Why do you look so bored?

Her: (She forced a smile) I’m not.

Me: Do you like one of these guys or something?

Her: No, I don’t even know them.

-0 for 6


Girl 7 (One of the guys had given up on the taller and cuter of the two friends. I picked up the fumble)

Me: Do you like that guy?

Her: (making a face) No, do you like my friend?

Me: Yeah, but she started ignoring me.

-0 for 7


Girl 8

Me: Are you from Lake Tahoe?

Her: No, why?

Me: What’s up with the boots?

-0 for 8


Girl 9 (To a 6’3 chick)

Me: Basketball or Volleyball?

Her: Neither, I’m a dancer.

-0 for 9


Girl 10

Me: Are you texting or “sexting?” 

Her: (She looked at me and continued what she was doing)

-0 for 10


Girl 11 (to a 6’2 chick)

Me: Basketball or Volleyball?

Her: (She paused and glared at me. She looked offended) Sumo Wrestler (She stormed off)


Girl 12 (To a chick leaning next to the bathroom)

Me: Who are you waiting for?

Her: My boyfriend.

-0 for 12


Girl 13 (She approached me)

Her: Where’s the bathroom?

Me: (Pointing) Over there. But watch out, some chick just took a dump.

-0 for 13


Girl 14

Me: I like your shirt. Is it Australian?

Her: Umm no, I got it at Charlotte Russe.

Me: Where’s that? North Carolina?

(This chick talked to me for quite a bit, but her friend told her otherwise)

-0 for 14


Girl 15

Me: Who are you texting?

Her: My friends. They’re at Malrakeys (She then hid her phone from me and gave me a look that insinuated that she wanted to text in privacy. By the way, this line has actually led somewhere in the past. It’s lame I know. But it’s the only idea I can think of when approaching a chick texting someone)

-0 for 15


Girl 16 (Was wearing a silver waist band for decoration on top of her black shirt)

Me: So does that belt actually hold anything up?

Her: Yeah, you don’t like it?

Me: No, I love it. I’m just having a hard time finding the loops it goes through.

Her: It’s a different kind of belt. (She could have just said, “Dude, it’s not a belt.” Any shmoo could figure that out. But we talked for five minutes until some guy named Jack showed up, and she left me for him)

-0 for 16


Girl 17 (Was friends with girl 16, but was smokin hot and had a tiny top on that flaunted her amazing fake breasts)

Me: (Over her shoulder) Who are you texting?

Her: My frieeeends (As she said this, she leaned back into me, giving me a whiff of her vibrant hair and a glimpse down her straining top. A hard-on was on the horizon. I was in and out of conversation with these two chicks (girl 16 and 17) for ten minutes until their attention started to focus on that Jack guy. I’d return to them later. But in the meantime, I didn’t want to allow for any dead weight loss on the night. I moved on)

-0 for 17


Girl 18

Me: I think we’ve hooked up before (I was beginning to lose my wits at this point. I was nine beers deep and had 17 failures under my belt)

Her: (She looked at me for three seconds) Uh no.

-0 for 18


Girl 19

Me: I like your shoes, did you get them at Charlotte Russe?

Her: (She looked at her watch, then at me, and then turned her back on me. Why did she look at her watch?)

-0 for 19

Fuck. I had run out of cute girls to hit on. I looked around and only saw ugly chicks, chicks with boyfriends, or chicks I had already flunked with. I leaned up against the railing and relaxed. Then, as if sent from the Angel of Pitty, Girl 16 found me. She smiled and fought through a group of four guys to get to me. I asked her about that Jack guy, and she told me that they were just friends and dance buddies. I tried to give her a guilt trip for leaving me for him. It worked. I found out that she and her hot friend were both 39, single, and had two kids. Perfect. We spoke for another 15 minutes, and I could tell she wanted to kiss me. Her face got close, and I leaned in for the kiss. She leaned away. I was up for the challenge.   

Me: Aww you don’t wanna kiss me?

Her: You’re SO young! I can’t.

Me: Ok, I’ve dated a 37-year-old before (A lie). And I already told you, I love older women.

Her: But you’re only 26!

Me: I’ll be 27 next month (Smiling).

Her: Noooooo. You’re so young!

Me: (Her face was four inches away) Ok, we can kiss, but no tongue.

She was silent and let out an inviting smile against her will.

I moved in and we kissed. Fifteen seconds into it, our tongues touched. 

1 for 19

We moved from the dance floor to the wall, for never more than five minutes at a time. She wanted to dance, but I only gave her one song at a time, using the excuse, “I can’t dance to this song.” We returned to the wall to make out. In our third make-out session, Girl 17 called my girl’s phone repeatedly, but we couldn’t understand a word she was saying. We continued to tongue kiss. Girl 17 continued to call nonstop until we finally deciphered that she was outside.

We went outside and found Girl 17 with some dude who she knew from a DUI class. The guy had on a gray beanie, an extra large red sweatshirt, and a huge slack-jawed smile. His jaw was to the extreme. Nevertheless, I would have traded him girls. His was hotter. I convinced them all to come back to my pad because it was “only two blocks away and on the boardwalk” (A lie. It was actually five blocks away, but they might not have been sold on “five” blocks).

On the way home, I noticed that my chick had the grossest female hands I’d ever seen. It looked like she had been carrying lumber Monday-Friday 8-5 for the last ten years. Her nails were chewed off, and the nail part of her fingers were a good 30% wider than the rest of the actual finger. I had to look past it. On the walk home, we passed a Seven-Eleven, and my chick became ecstatic. “Oh my Gawd! I’m sooo hungry,” she said. 

What took place in that store could have very well been a scene from Jackass. Slack-jaw bought a six-pack of Smirnoff-Ice! I’m somewhat of a pacifist, but I felt like kicking his ass. Steve-O would have dressed up like a Grandma and clubbed him over the head if he saw this spectacle. I asked him if they were for the girls. He said, “Nah man, I love these.” There was no way this guy was getting any action from Girl 17. My girl wanted Del Taco, but that was out of the question. So she decided to play the role of chef. She took a jumbo-sized bag of Tostitos, ripped it open, and went over to the chili cheese dog stand and started pushing the cheese button. Cheese plopped all over the place–onto her hands, onto her jacket, onto the floor, into the bag. She made Beavis look like Einstein. This was disgusting. When she felt she had enough cheese, she went for the chili button. I stopped observing after this, but when she walked up to the counter, I caught a glimpse. Her lumberjack hands had actually gotten worse. They were yellow and brown, and she held that bag confidently as if she were all set for a Dodger game. The bag was see-through, and ALL I SAW WAS BROWN. It looked like Johnny Knoxville had given her late night snack the “Cleveland Steamer.”
Just seventeen steps out of the store, my chick spilled her bag all over the parking lot. It looked like a pile of shit, with a few chips in the mix, along with a yellow substance. I told her, “It’s ok, aren’t you full?” She told me she wanted more. Girl 17 felt bad for her and obviously had a higher threshold than I for things that resembled poop. So she went back in the store and repeated the Chili Cheese Tostito thing again. I waited outside impatiently and disgustedly. Slack-jaw waited with me, eager to crack open his manly beverage. When Girl 17 walked out, I didn’t think she was hot anymore. Her fake nails had poop underneath them, and her white jacket was covered as well. They ate their way back to my pad.

The three remaining blocks we had to walk actually gave me some time to cool off and forget about poop. When we got inside, the chicks finished off their shit-nachos, and I offered them both gum. Slack-jaw wanted some too. Pfff, like he’d need it. Ten minutes later, I felt my tipping point approaching and had to get Girl 16 into my room. I said, “Oh, you’ve gotta check out my pictures from this summer.” She sat on my lap and we scrolled through them. A couple minutes later, we made out. A couple minutes later, we went to the bed. A couple minutes later, I sucked on her boobs. A couple minutes later, she grabbed my arm and said, “No.” Her pants wouldn’t be coming off and neither would mine. She said she was kind of seeing some guy who was married, but was getting a divorce so he could be with her. I tried everything to make her change her mind. I gave her the whole, “You’re still young” bullshit. I told her she should “take more risks,” which was true. I told her, “If you aren’t together, then you’re still single.” I said, “Well what would he think of you if I did this…” (and I kissed her). Nothing was working. She listened to my attempts and continued to kiss me. But I wanted to fuck. She said she promised him she wouldn’t sleep with anyone. I then used the last card in the deck and tried giving her a guilt trip that she screwed up a marriage. It backfired bigtime. She said, “That’s exactly why I can’t do anything.” Fuck.

We left my bedroom to find Girl 17 and Slack-jaw on opposite ends of the couch. She was lying down, and his hand was on her knee. That was the farthest he got. He probably masturbated to that later in the night. Girl 17 called a cab, and Slack-jaw asked if he could spend the night on my couch. Yeah right. I didn’t trust him and besides, my DVDs were right there. He might steal them. Shit, he could probably fit at least three of them in his mouth, container and all. I told him my parents were coming in the morning, and I asked my chick if she could give him a ride. She agreed, and he got in the cab with the girls. They left. I returned to my room and masturbated. I’ll take what I can get.

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