There's always one in every group of friends. The activity director. The one not content to spend Friday night at the usual haunts where the bartenders know you and give you free drinks. No, the Activity Director scours the paper or online, searching out odd, but possibly fun activites for the group to participate in. Some are really great ideas. Others are, uh, not.
In our group, that's Mary. Mary has dragged us to many, many "interesting" events over the years. And this Friday night was no exception. This Friday night, she decided it would be fun to go see "Superdiamond."
What's Superdiamond? Well, it's a Neil Diamond tribute band, of course. Yes, I know, Neil Diamond isn't even dead and if we had wanted to we could have easily gone to see the real thing. But Mary got it in her head that the tribute band would be a lot of fun and something different to do.
As I walk into the concert area I can feel my coolness points jumping ship like passengers on the Titanic. There is actually a huge crowd - mostly college aged and thirty somethings. At 10pm, the band comes on stage with their open necked, glittery shirts and strike up the first tune.
For some reason it seems to lack the irony that would have made it kitchy instead of horrifying. At least to me. Everyone else seems to be totally into it, so maybe I'm just too cool for my own good. I decide perhaps a stoli raz and cran would make it more enjoyable so I head over to the bar.
It does help a bit. As do the earplugs. Andy (Mary's husband) sticks the earplugs in his mouth. This is more entertaining than the band and so I take a photo. My friend Lisa ponders whether the singer gets a lot of chicks. I am undecided.
I turn back to the band. They're jumping up and down. Singing a Monkees song. I learn something new - that Neil Diamond wrote several Monkees songs. I only knew he was "Coming to America." I decide maybe at least this is a pop cultural learning experience and decide to make the most of it. As you can see, I'm actually smiling at this point, though you can see a slightly haunted look in my eyes.
Until I feel a hand on my shoulder and a voice in my ear.
Eager Pickup Guy: "You don't seem like you're having a good time."
Oh God. Kill me now. Not only do I have to contend with the crooning of a tacky seventies singer wannabe, but now I have to deal with this guy. And for some reason my one word answers do not clue him into the fact that I'm not remotely interested in conversing.
Eager Pickup Guy: (incredulously) "Don't you like Neil Diamond?"
Me: "Uh, no?"
I give him the once over. Decide he looks fairly normal. Wonder why the hell he is here. Does he have an Activity Director friend as well? IS he an Activity Director himself? (This would be no good as you can only have one per group of friends.)
Eager Pickup Guy: "You know, I was going to wear my glitter shirt, but I didn't want to outshine the band."
Me: "Uh, ha ha?" (Please be joking! Please be joking!)
Eager Pickup Guy: (thinks: Now I've got her to laugh. Well, sort of. Anyway - time to make my move!) "You know, there's another band in the other room if you want to go and check them out."
Actually, I have to give Eager Pickup Guy credit. He wasn't overly obnoxious and he did get from opening line to asking me to leave my friends and hang out with him in a few smooth sentences. Problem is, he wasn't reading my body language.
GUYS - if a girl gives you a one word answer and then turns back to watch the band she hates, that's not a sign to keep going!! She's not being coy. Believe me, if he were someone I wanted to hook up with, I would have turned to face him, giggled and smiled, blushed and stared at my feet. I would have played with my hair and swayed from side to side. I might have even answered his question in a complete sentence!
Anyway - I didn't mean to turn this into a pickup lecture, but it just bugs me. I hate being picked up by guys. It's flattering, I guess, but I'm so shy that it makes me feel extremely uncomfortable to have to make conversation with strangers who have the goal of sleeping with me. Also, I'm overly nice and sensitive so I hate rejecting people, but at the same time, I'm extremely picky and so chances are I'm not going to be interested in the person who approaches me.
Does that sound totally snobby? Probably, but I can't help it.
The best pick-up line EVER in my history of pick-up lines was done by this NYC guy named Mike.
I was at a rave at the Rosalind ballroom. The place was packed. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, this cute guy comes up to me, takes my hand, shakes it and says, "Hi, my name is Mike. Nice to meet you." Then, before I can say a word, he disapears into the crowd.
Now this approach works on so many levels. If I hadn't been interested, then he didn't have to deal with any awkward rejection and I, in turn, didn't have to do anything. But if I were interested, well, now I had to go actively search him out. Find him again so I could tell him my name in return and strike up a longer conversation. (Which is what I did)
Anyway - this is a long rambling post about nothing, but it's a Monday, so what can you do?