In the ever-popular ritual of human courtship and mating, the ‘ice-breaker’ has been raised to the level of art form. Don’t be coy with me, you know exactly what I’m speaking of, we’ve all been involved in this event at one point or another. Yes, I’m referring to that opening line that must occur between one interested party and another; that line on which we balance the team of ego and libido. Of course I’m referring to the infamous ‘pick-up line,’ a rather unattractive phrase for something that we can’t really do without.
Some of us are better at picking the right line and the right time to use it, others flounder hopelessly for a lifetime trying to sound sincere. I’ve never been one for using pick-up lines, I was married too early to ever get a real chance to explore the practice, but I have heard a few that were rather creative or just downright terrible.
‘What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a joint like this?’ This old and feeble example is not even worthy of scorn on the part of its intended target. Another that jumps to mind, having been reworked into a country tune goes, ‘If I said you had a lovely body would you hold it against me?’ This is so bad it has become a bar-room classic. There are a million more of these chestnuts floating around, but like I said, I never had the need or want to use them so I can’t give you very many more illustrations.
The reason I bring this all up is not so much because of the pick-up lines themselves, but often the responses back can be even more entertaining, which brings me to this.
I used to work for Art, this little retired Bosons Mate, who was a cocky little man, round bellied, with a W. C. Fields gin blossom type nose. He was a funny guy who tried to puff himself up two or three times his normal size so those around would think he was tough. Actually he was a cream puff, but we all kept his secret. He loved the ladies, his after hours bouts with a bottle, and life in general.
He told me story once that stuck, about his early days in the Navy when he was stationed in Pensacola Florida. He spent about six months there before being shipped out to Vietnam to duty on one of the River Gun-boats that were so popular amongst the Viet Cong; a dangerous place to serve during active wartime. He saw many of his buddies killed along the waterways of the South.
He used to go into the Officer’s Club in the afternoon to have himself a couple snorts before heading off to eat or back to his quarters. Nine out of ten times when he went there, he’d find the same attractive woman, dressed to the teeth, sitting on an end barstool slowly smoking one cigarette after another while nursing a Manhattan. He asked the bartender about her one day and the guy told him she was the Base Commander’s wife. They evidently didn’t have much of a marriage left, so she spent her time sitting in the Club waiting for the next good looking guy in white (or beige) to come along. The bartender felt she’d probably bedded most of the men who came through the club. Art felt that maybe he’d been overlooked and decided to do something about it.
He had the bartender take the woman another drink. He watched the man put the drink in front of her, mouth something, and turn and walk away. The woman didn’t even look up. She finished her drink and then started in on the one Art bought her. He was a bit miffed, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily.
The bartender asked him what he was trying to do. Art said he’d like to get a little of that action if the lady was willing. The bartender smiled. Art asked him if he’d ever scored with the woman. The bartender said emphatically NO, indicating he had to work there and didn’t need the weight of a relationship with the Commander’s wife to get in the way of his paying the rent.
Art had a couple more drinks. He called the bartender over for another round for he and the lady. He asked him what he felt was the best approach with the woman. The guy didn’t bat an eye, replying that the direct approach was always the best. Tell her how you feel and what you want, if she wants the same, bam, you’re home free. Art thought about it, felt it was as good an answer as any, and since he was shipping out in a week, he went for it.
He hiked up his pants, put on his cap, paid the tab and tipped the bartender, and then sauntered the length of the bar to where the woman was sitting. He knew she could see him, but she didn’t look away from her drink.
He cleared his throat and said to her, ‘You have got to be one of the most beautiful women I’ve seen and I’d just love to get into your pants,’ and he waited for her to either slug him, scream, or get up and leave in a huff.
She did none of those things, instead she took a few seconds to put out her cigarette and take slow sip from her drink. Then for the first time since he’d seen her, she turned slowly and looked him square in the face. Without missing a beat, the woman calmly and flatly said (one of the all time great replies in the history of pick-up lines);
‘Well, you know I couldn’t really afford for that to happen,…because you see, I’ve already got one ass-hole in there as it is.’ She turned and resumed staring at her drink.
Art said his ego was a bit bruised, but he had to laugh…all the way out the front door of the Club and back to his digs. She’d got him, but he’d also gained a story that he would tell again and again for a lifetime.
As for me, every time I’ve seen an attractive woman sitting at a bar I’ve heard that line come spinning around again. So I finish my drink, pay the tab, tip the bartender, and quietly go home with a grin on my face…but my ego intact. Thanks Art, for saving me the scars.
Your Faithful Reporter - RCat
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