wrap me up in bubble wrap.
What?? Yeah, that’s what I said. I’d love to know what is with the men of Boston these days and exactly where they get their pick-up lines. With the recent summery weather, I’ve been going out a bit more than usual, and I have to say, meeting some strange characters, with a capital S.
Last week at Vox (a semi-classy bar, right??) my friend and I started talking to some guys. Now, granted these were not the type of men we typically talk to, we decided we need to start being more open and nicer to people. So, we sat with these guys and talked for a little bit. One of these men actually told my friend he wanted to take her home, wrap her up in bubble wrap, and show her to all of his neighbors. I sadly missed this conversation (I was conversing with another high-class character) but immediately felt her kicking me as a signal that we needed to get away…fast. The only thing I could think of was bathroom. But upon entering the ladies room, we realized that in order to escape Vox, we’d have to walk past these men once again. So, we befriended a group of girls we found also in the bathroom, asked them to pretend they knew us, walked out with them laughing and conversing, waved to the weirdos, and ran down the stairs, and out of the bar.
In other events, we were approached twice in less than one week in almost the same exact way, leading us to believe men have a common source for pick-up conversation. So, a guy comes up to me and my friends. Asks how long we’ve known each other. We say we’ve been friends since elementary school (I know, cute, right?). They say wow, that’s very rare among girls (is it, though?). They then proceed to ask one of us what kind of shampoo the other uses. We girls all look at each other (mostly to say wtf is wrong with this man?). And then he exclaims “Wow! You really are good friends…I can tell because you all looked at each other when I asked you a question.” We had this same exact conversation twice, at two different bars, with two different men.
So, I ask the men of Boston (and beyond) where did you read/who told you to ask girls what kind of shampoo their friends use to gauge how good of friends they are? Was it the tip in last month’s Maxim magazine? And please, I beg you, don’t tell girls you want to wrap them up in bubble wrap. Not a turn on. At least not for me and my friends…I guess I can’t speak for all girls.
And side note: Where are some classy but not uptight bars/hangouts in Boston? You know, with a nice crowd…youngish, but not college-age (I won’t even get into the older men we met last week and the things they were saying to us…)
May 17th, 2007 at 2:39 am
The bubble wrap is just bizarre, but in general, I think these men have been reading “The Game” by Neil Strauss a little too much. It’s a book about losers who try to manipulate women. Just be glad you are too smart for their games, and forget about ‘em. Anyway, I know how it is out there. Stay positive… keep trying to be open and soon you’ll meet someone who doesn’t need years of therapy.
May 17th, 2007 at 9:31 am
This is the exact reason why I am happier than a pig in poo that I am not single! I could write entire volumes of stories like these… The bubble wrap thing makes me think of a CSI episode. And by the way, my best friend and I have been friends since second grade. Not rare at all.
May 18th, 2007 at 4:52 pm
Bubble wrap? They’re hijacking my material. I retired that back in aught-three after it served its purpose (to wit, a little adult entertainment between consenting adults) and my newfound ladyfriend insisted on being — well — wrapped and showcased. Short on bubble wrap, we settled for Saran … but I digress.
Your anonymous contributor is, sadly, correct to note that many an unoriginal grifter is borrowing from Mr. Strauss and his seminal expose on the self-described ’seduction community’. There’s also the oft-recycled offerings of Tucker Max.
Still, I maintain that most ladies-about-town prefer something original and borderline-creepy (i.e. bubble wrap) to something as cliched and tired as ‘Where are you from?’, ‘What’s your sign?’, ‘Come here often?’. I like to open, for example, with an intense and didactic diatribe on what makes an ideal pair of breasts. It’s not size, mind you.
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