On Friday night I did a bad thing. In case you’re expecting domination, sadism and sexy pain, I should warn you right now that this isn’t going to be that sort of blog.
In the pub on Friday, around five or six pints into an eight pint night, a funny conversation I was having with a friend was interrupted by a reasonably attractive, smiley gentleman. He cut in, with a cute, ‘can I get to know you’, response to something I’d been saying. He was sweet, and friendly, and nice, and making an honest attempt to chat me up.
And I shot him down.
Not just a ‘not right now’ shoot down, or an ‘I have a boyfriend’ shoot down. I didn’t even crack out the cold stare that I’ve seen others give to this kind of approach when they’re not in the mood to be spoken to. I shot him down with a cruel, cruel comeback. Something that both my drunken mind and my drunken friend agreed was hilarious and witty, but which my sober mind wants to suck straight back into my evil, rude, insulting face.
Chatting people up is hard
I’m obviously not going to shag every passing drunk who says ‘hello’, but I’ve always sworn that if someone approached me politely they’d get politeness back.
Why? Well, it takes a fuck of a lot of courage to approach someone you don’t know. A guy who talks to me in a pub is not so much wearing his heart on his sleeve as offering his dick up on a platter: ‘do you want this? Is this good enough for you? Do I gain your acceptance and approval?’
I come out in shivers of nervousness and terror just remembering times when I’ve done the same.
And I have, by the way – done the same. I’m no fan of being the chatter-up rather than the chattee, but I’ll do it when I really fancy someone, because I don’t want to be reliant on them making the first move. Girl friends of mine have told me that I should refrain from stamping up to men reeking of vodka and slurring “You’re brilliant. Can I buy you a drink?” and wait instead for them to approach me. But bollocks to that.
I don’t want to hang shyly in a corner of a pub, batting my eyelashes and clutching my outdated gender stereotypes while the man of my dreams sits fucklessly by the bar. I also know that the sort of men I like (shy, nerdy ones) are often unwilling to approach me because they’ve seen their more confident friends on the receiving end of unnecessarily harsh rejections.
Bottom line: I understand why people are terrified of chatting someone up, because I am also terrified. But I do it to avoid being stuck in a sexless limbo. Horrible though approaching is, asking someone if they fancy a shag and receiving a ‘no’ is still marginally better than going home alone to crywank under the duvet.
I don’t want to fuck an arsehole
But ultimately, the most important reason why politeness should always win out in chat-up scenarios is because being rude makes you wholly unfuckable.
Even if the person chatting you up isn’t necessarily one you fancy, someone you do fancy could well be nearby. And I don’t know many people who’d want to sleep with the sort of shitbag arrogant cunt who would immediately dismiss someone.
Moreover, that hot stranger standing nearby might be thinking about talking to you. He or she might be preparing a line, working up the courage, eagerly anticipating the chance to talk to you. If they hear you telling someone else to utterly and unequivocally fuck off, they’re unlikely to leap eagerly into the conversation and offer their own dignity up for you to shred.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry
And so my penance for doing this – for being just the sort of cold-hearted arrogant twat that I despise – is to relive the moment as I write this blog entry, and cringe in miserable shame. I can’t make things better, but I can apologise, so if you’re reading this, sweet 20-something blond boy in the long grey jacket: I’m so fucking sorry.
I’m sorry I was cruel. I’m sorry I’m a shit. And I’m sorry that you might just think twice before you talk to a girl again. I didn’t just break my chat-up rules, I broke the only rule that ever really matters: whatever life throws at you, try not to be a dick.
13 Comments
This is a large part of the reason I only really go out in swinging clubs, I never know if someone is chatting me up and if I fancy someone I want to be able to say, “Fancy a shag then?”
Good thing I’m married really :-)
So what did you tell him? You’ve sparked my interest ;)
I’m with you on this one, Tuva. So ‘fess up, GOTN, what did ya say?
Ah, I honestly can’t remember the whole exchange. It was something pretty horrible, and it definitely included the word ‘prick’.
Ha. I’ve had worse. We are all human, it stops hurting after a while, and if at 26 it still hurt I’d probably be a massive prick anyway…
Still hurts at 36! Guess I have a problem…
Thank you for sharing! This post gave me a bit of hope. You see, in spite of my shy nature, I will chat someone up on occasion and have been cruelly shot down more than once. I’d like to think that at least one of those ladies had a second thought about the way things went and perhaps, in retrospect, I’m really not all that bad.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I’m not twenty something, nor am I especially cute, but I am unfailingly polite and usually looking for nothing more that a pleasant conversation. So, while I will have second thoughts, I will eventually try again.
I’ve always opted for sexless limbo. I realised after a while how terrifying ‘SL’ must be to most normal folks in order for it to push them into chat up horror. It’s cold here. So cold. But at least I’ve managed to avoid being called a prick in real life. Small compensation at least.
Reading this post really annoyed me; I’ve been the recipient of a few harsh rejections from females despite being unfailingly polite, and I’ve always politely rejected women I was unattracted to. I’ve never had this kind of experience with gay men. I appreciate that my own experiences are one-off incidents, but it still hurts. Shy guys: females may often be rude and insufferable, but there are about three billion women on earth. Appropriate their silly phrase, because it does make life easier: cunt is abundant and low value. Don’t put them up on a pedestal, because they’re merely human; most are garbage. Ultimately you owe them nothing, and they owe you nothing–not even kindness.
Oh sorry, was this utterly self-flagellating post not quite apologetic enough for you? I’ll make a note that next time it should be written in blood.
FYI, saying that most women are ‘garbage’ makes me sceptical about your claim that you’re always ‘unfailingly polite.’ It’s hard to be nice when you’re busy mentally running through all the ways in which you hate women.
Sorry! My comment was badly worded and the product of a particularly drunken and salty mood. I was annoyed because of a few foul memories the post triggered, and the “garbage” bit is pretty bad, yeah. Seeing a random bitter outburst in reply to your apology must have been extremely frustrating, so sorry again, and have a good day!
Blimey, thanks for that. I don’t think I’ve ever had an angry comment exchange turn round so fast. Thank you, sincerely, and be well etc x
If anyone chatted me up in a bar they’d get an instant hug for being the first! Apparently I ooze intimidation