There is no doubt a plethora of strategies, tips, and tricks on how to successfully meet a girl at a bar. Ask her what time it is, buy a drink, compliment her, pay attention to body language. You’ve probably witnessed the phenomenon occur among single friends, beautiful strangers, and the unexpected hideous nerds at plenty of bars. It’s always an entertaining situation to watch unfold late at night after a few drinks, especially when it’s happening to you. That is sort of what happened to me at Bar Louie (2973 W. 7th St.), minus the successful part. It was in fact the perfect example of how not to meet a girl.
The long hours I put in hanging out at Bar Louie were of the obligatory bachelorette variety, and I deserved a trophy for sticking it out until close. Since there were no friendship awards being given out, I treated myself to lots of booze. I even did the last call frenzy and ordered one final beer knowing that corralling my friends would be a task. The lights came on as I was savoring the last few drops when out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone pointing at me. I looked across the bar and made eye contact as I tried to figure out if I knew this dude. From his comfy barstool, he gestured for me to come over to him. He might as well have been a caveman grunting and signaling, “woman, come.” Obviously I waved him off and continued the conversation with my friends.
Much to the staff’s chagrin, we were still there when the bartenders started shuffling everyone out, taking drinks out of hands, and telling everyone it was time to go. Our group finally obliged and the (surprisingly attractive) young caveman was standing near the door waiting when I made accidental eye contact again. He pointed at his watch, then me, then the door. I shook my head and mouthed the words “nope” and he seemed to finally get it, though he remained in the same spot. He obviously was not prepared to lift a foot or start a conversation. His game was all hand gestures along with the hopeful “wanna?” look. There was no avoiding walking by him near the exit but I was certain he had been rejected sufficiently. I was wrong. As we approached, he asked if I wanted to come home with him. I shook my head and continued walking and laughing at his audacity. The situation became even more comical after I heard him ask one of the girls behind us the same question. He was again rejected, and I can only assume he duplicated the same shameless strategy until the bar was empty.
To this day I am convinced that I had been a part of the Guinness Book of World Records’ laziest attempt to get some. I am just so curious: Did that ever work for him? Just talking with his buddies until last call and then scanning the room for a female? Then zeroing in and just signaling for her to come over? Did no one tell him that a few words and a $2.50 Miller Light could save him from repeatedly embarrassing himself? Clearly, this dude no understand feelings or talk, simply want companion back to cave.
