How to pick up guys at a club in Manhattan.

I suddenly realized that most girls don’t approach most guys.

But I tell you, it is a necessity if you are a twenty-something single girl living it up (or. busting your balls) in Manhattan. You don’t have time to sit around, wait, bat your pretty lashes, and play footsie:

Your twenties last only a decade!!!

Here are a few tips:

1. Wear heals. Not only do men love the way heals accentuate your pretty legs, but it gives you a heavy dose of confidence. And honestly, men love Steve Madden as much as Manolo Blahnik (any man who says otherwise is checking out more than just you and your shoes).

2. Hit the dance-bar or club with one or two best friends. Don’t go with too many girls. Too many ladies in a single group is fun, but creates a dynamic where no one wants to feel left out.

3. Exude that sexy confidence. Stand up straight, play with your hair, laugh, and have fun. (A Manhattan or two doesn’t hurt either…whiskey yum yum.)

4. Speaking of Manhattans, buy your own drink. If you’re waiting for a dude to buy you a drink, you emit an air of neediness and set yourself up for disappointment.

5. Seek a decent man within your immediate surroundings and strike up a convo about anything. He doesn’t have to be hot, in fact, start off with someone who’s decently average. Not only will his attention will make you feel confident, other dudes will see you talking to him and want your attention. (Plus, he may actually be a pretty nice guy despite his average looks, which is just as awesome).

6. Do shots at the bar to get the ball rolling. It’s fun and gets other people’s attention.

7. Leave the bar and go dance with your bestie, no guys allowed. (Generates lots of attention).

8. Keep an eye out for the tall foreign guys: the Swedes, the Frenchies, the Spaniards. They are the easiest to meet because they want to meet new people. These guys may not have table and tend to be around the bar with their buddies.

9. Somewhere, there is likely to be a promoter or some rich dude in real estate with a lot of girls and a lot of champagne. It’s easy to slip through over to their table and pretend your one of the crowd!

10. In Paris, my best friend and I had a thing we called la dance d’amour. When a hot guy was on the dance floor, we’d go over and dance wildly with each other. After a few minutes, flash a quick smile at him, and I promise he will approach.

Alas, with my crazy work and school schedule, I have no more time to go clubbing. So, please share your adventures and I will live vicariously through you.

His terms. Her terms.

I’ve been told several times that women have all the power.

Each time I almost choke up my drink from laughing so hard.

“Really? You think that we have the power?” 

Men usually stare back at me blankly, unsure if I’m being sarcastic.

So I explain, “Do you know how many relationships I’ve been in that were on his terms?”

Sure, when it comes to sex with a respectful man it is usually does begin on my terms. But the golden rule philosophy that I advocated so fervently two years ago is long, longover. Who wants to wait three weeks, three months, (heck even three days) for something that is so mutually wonderful?

What does it mean to be on his terms? You see each other when he is available. You have an exclusive relationship if he wants to. You stay mainly at his place. Yes, he may be kind enough to take you out to dinner or buy your movie tickets, but it’s still on his terms.

You’re here because he wants you here, when he’s ready for you to go, you go.

It’s pathetic. I don’t blame it on culture, it’s purely my own damn fault. But I have no interest in manipulation, I enjoy intimacy, I give in too easily. My best friend knows how to catch ‘em and keep ‘em with her sharp tongue and quick temper. She uses sex as punishment and reward. She likes to play games.

And so, my young mind inquires how does a woman have a relationship on equal terms without playing stupid love games. Is it a matter of whom you choose? How you choose? Where you choose? Does it depend on where you are in your life?

I’m going to ponder this question, experiment a bit, and get back to you about it later. Surely, there is a smart answer. I’m so tired of feeling like I have no control because I took control of what I really wanted.

L’âge con.

Despite what some of you may say about age discriminatory dating,

I still think that boys in college are a waste of time and energy

But by no fault of their own! You see, boys in college don’t have time to dedicate to a girlfriend.

1. Their income is based on Christmas money from Grandma.
2. They live in a small, shabby apartment with 4 roommates (and they alternate the bed based on who’s getting laid…).
3. They have no class when it comes to dating. I was once horrified to be taken to a $4 sushi restaurant at a corner lot strip mall. And they will happily go Dutch the first date.
4. Hygiene is low priority. As long as nothing smells too bad, they’re good to go.
5. Hanging out with the “bros” always take precedence. Always. I swear, college boys have this intense homoerotic bond. They incessantly joke (and secretly fantasize) about being with each other sexually. Hopefully most will eventually grow out of it………
6. With a girl, college boys are desperate to baiser. It’s probably because he hasn’t gotten laid in over 2 months and foreplay makes him feel awkward.
7. They most likely aren’t even looking for a real relationship because “college doesn’t make sense with a steady girlfriend” (and I agree with that, it doesn’t)
8. They’re confused about who they are and their future. You don’t want to hear that bull****.

Of course, I’m not a typical college girl, so perhaps girls my age have different expectations….

What are college girls like anyway? Hmmm….

 

Baisers des hommes dans le lit.

I’d like to take a moment to discuss a rule…

Kissing men in bed.

I used to think this was an innocent ordeal….

“I like you, there is a bed, no one is home, let’s just kiss each other.”

And in my opinion it should be this way. I DON’T SEE WHY NAUGHTY ENDEAVORS MUST ALWAYS LEAD TO SEX!

Sometimes things are left best in their simplicity. But some things aren’t that simple.

I mentioned the rule to a French friend of mine over coffee today and he quickly interrupted me:

“Agh! I would be extremely offended if a woman took me into her bedroom, kissed me, led me on, but then refused to have sex! THAT’S JUST PLAIN WRONG!”

Yes, yes, I know. Believe me, I learned this lesson the hard way.

If you don’t want make love to a grown man, don’t be cruel and fool around with him.

But I cannot help but wonder if this is the same rule for a boy.

Surely they are not as complicated.

Comportement irrespectueux.

Los Angeles. A place where one can be glamorous in big sunglasses, diamonds, and sweatpants.

My people. My friends. My language. My bed. My car. My mother’s credit card.

(I saw that dwarf actor at the doctor’s office today — you know, that smart talkin’ elf from Bad Santa — Tony Cox.)

Anyway, dressing with class is not required in Los Angeles, but it is much appreciated — particularly further west toward Beverly Hills. So today I decided to wear my mother’s new Anthropologie dress. It’s quite lovely and vraiment LA chic.

Looking lovely feels great, even if you’re running mundane errands. Going to the car wash was on my list of things to do and as I pulled up to the station, the attendant greeted me:

How you doing, Sweety?

Hello. I’m here to get my car washed.

Okay, and what would you like for me to do for you, Honey?

Um, just a regular wash and vacuum please.

And would you like me to fill you up, Sweetheart?

(No put intended, we were standing next to a gasoline station.)

Err, sure.

He ripped it off the receipt and handed it to me.

Alright, there to you go darling just take it inside.

I couldn’t help but feel caught off guard. I wasn’t exactly sure how to feel; a part of me wanted to yell “well I never!” storm back into my Lexus and drive away — while another part of me wanted to laugh bashfully. I just ignored it all together. In fact, I guess it’s a compliment.

Too bad I didn’t get a discount.

le baiser américain.

American girls like to kiss boys.

We do. We kiss boys at parties, at clubs, on dates, in movie theaters, we kiss our friends. Kissing doesn’t mean anything. It’s fun!

But in Paris, ce n’est pas la même chose. I learned something kind of crucial yesterday, a European standard that is actually kind of amazing. Here it is…

If you kiss a boy in Paris, it means something…….

I know what your thinking. “It means something in the States too!”

Nope. You can go out with a boy for an entire month, you can go on dates, he can come over to your place for dinner, you can introduce him to all of your friends, he can even bring you soup when your sick! But unless you become “official” he’s aloud to do whatever the fuck he wants! Sure you can get mad. But he’ll just throw a line like “But I never said we were exclusive!” at you and he’s in the clear.

Our dating system is the product of our consumer society. We want more. We like to pick and choose. “I like this for right now, but I also want this, and perhaps I’ll get some of this later”.

In France (or in most of Europe apparently), people do not go on “dates”. Dinner and a movie? Cut the bullshit and get to the good stuff. You either like each other or you don’t. And if  you’ve kissed then your going out. Plain and simple. Perhaps you’ll only go out for 2 weeks. Perhaps you’ll go out for a year and a half. But your going out. There is no picking and choosing.

Of course you have the players who’ll fuck you over before you can say “je m’appelle ...” But their cunning and swift moves are pretty easy to spot and are alluring in an unusually charming way (French men are usually terrible flirts…)

Otherwise, it’s a very straightforward system. It’s actually quite wonderful.

Finally, a girl can allow something as wonderful as a kiss to mean something!