The worst pick-up line ever

The worst pick-up line ever

This blog post also appears on the Fairlady site.

This weekend proved conclusively that I wouldn’t make a good spy. It also reminded me not to drink cocktails on an empty stomach.

Let’s just say that my tact, subtlety and wit find me an atrocious companion when fishing maraschino cherries from my cocktail, and abandon me to my own, poor, devices while they find peace and quiet somewhere else. I also become marginally louder (don’t believe what people tell you) and start swearing like a sailor when I’ve had a drink.

single scene Cape Town
Don’t be fooled by appearances.
These things are stronger than they look.

Lucky my friend Meeya and I hatched our brilliant, if erratic, plan with only half a cocktail circulating my system – though that was more than enough to make our plan unflawless (like flawless, except the opposite).

OK now look, in our defence, it’s the hot guys’ fault for the whole fiasco.

Seriously. They aroused my curiosity, and well, simply aroused Meeya.

If they weren’t so damn hot, none of this would’ve happened!

We spotted the yummy guys sitting in the restaurant in Camp’s Bay where a whole lot of us were having sundowners. Meeya was curious about their single status; but aside from that we were curious about the hot guys’ orientation. And no, I don’t mean in which direction they were facing. We were wondering which team they batted for. You know, how much they… liked rainbows, I guess (analogies are hard, OK?). Basically, were these guys gay or not?

Let’s look at the astonishing accumulation of evidence that indicated their potential gaydom. They were:

  1. Two guys sitting alone together
  2. Two hot guys sitting alone together
  3. Two hot guys sitting alone together in CAPE TOWN (SA’s pink capitol!)
  4. Two hot guys, sitting alone together, in Cape Town, sharing a drink
  5. Two hot guys, sitting alone together, in Cape Town, sharing a drink while watching the sunset.

It didn’t look like they had romantic vibes, but damn that’s a lot of circumstantial evidence indicating that perhaps these men wouldn’t be so keen on having a girl flirt with them.

Gay scene Cape Town
And they weren’t dressed like this.

Meeya had no desire to walk blatantly into rejection (who would?) so I was nominated as wingwoman, because a) I was tipsy, b) no one else wanted to and c) I’m dating someone – so in theory rejection wouldn’t matter to me because I was going to reject them anyway.

Now for our brilliant plan.

Meeya stared at the boys. I stared at the boys. We sipped our cocktails and laughed while trying to work out their vibe; dating each other or not? Then Meeya shot me her ‘I have a plan’ look. I know from experience that this look means danger.

“Sam!” Meeya said, “You have a blog!” I laughed, and said yes, yes I do have a blog. So what? “So you can interview them,” air-quotation marks, “‘for your blog!’”  I had just enough booze circulating my system to think this was truly a genius idea. Perfect! We could find out their single status, their sexual orientation, and other random cool stuff! I had a notepad and pen and boozy confidence. I would ‘interview’ them, Meeya would ‘bump’ into me on the way back from the loo and I would ‘casually’ introduce them, having broken the ice AND fished for info and potential rejection before she even showed up! I mean come on, sounds like a genius idea, right? Righhhht….

While planning my ‘interview’ we drank more cocktails, peered over at the guys and laughed so loudly that another friend Blom told me, “Jy lag soos ‘n straatmeisie.”

Then we saw the waiter bringing them the bill! Crunch time! Meeya almost chickened out, but I said urgently, “This story can’t end with, ‘and then we didn’t go talk to them’!”  Meeya hesitantly nodded, “No, you’re right,” she agreed, and passed me Blom’s Blackberry (Meeya would oh-so-casually ask me for her phone, you see, on her way back from the bathroom; and a Blackberry is way cooler than her awful little mobile). She casually left for the toilet, passing the hotties on her way there.

 Blackberry
No mom, not this kind of Blackberry.

I steeled myself, picked up my notepad and pen and approached the guys.

“Hi,” I said a bit nervously, giggling a little, “but I have a blog and would like to ask you a random question, if that’s OK!” Hottie #1 smiled at me.
“How random?” he asked.
“Pretty random!” I replied.
“As random as what you were asking those people there?” Hottie #1 asked, pointing at my friends. I blushed.
“No, no, those are my friends,” I replied with a wild ohgod ohgod they’vecaughtme laugh.

This was not going well.

I bravely soldiered on, “OK, so I’m writing a piece on the singles scene in Cape Town and wanted to ask you guys where you go?”
The hotties exchanged a look. “Are you single?” Hottie #1 asked quickly.

What to do? What was the right answer?!

“Nooooooooo…” I replied hesitantly, so hesitantly they probably thought I was lying.
“Well, neither are we,” laughed Hottie #2.
“Try Capris rather,” said Hottie #1.

This is when Meeya passed their table.

“Hi Sam,” she said a tad mechanically, “can I get my phone from you please?”
“Why sure, Meeya,” I said robotically, “here it is.”

Clearly, our pick-up line had failed. Meeya went back to our table, I made my excuses and left as well.

On my way back the waiter caught my eye and said sotto voce with a huge grin, “Nice try.”

Never. Again.

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