Nightwatch: The art of dating
Gather round dear Nightwatch readers, and let me spin you a tale of smoking hot passion and unbridled desire fresh from the coalface of 21st-century dating life. Set your faces to 'Envy' and/or 'Swoon' ... now!
So there I was last Saturday night, propping up the bar as is my wont, with a good friend who we'll call X. Now X is a handsome man, and he gets a lot of attention (yes, I hate him too). A guy approaches us. He starts making small talk, and it's evident from the get-go that he's seriously into X.
Knowing my friend, I can tell he's not interested, but he's too nice to say so directly. The guy asks if he can take his number to contact him later that night for a "last drink" (which is apparently what the kids are calling it these days).
X politely declines and then decides to absent himself by making a dash to the toilet, leaving yours truly there standing like a pleb. The guy seems crestfallen, but, bless his cotton socks, he soon rallies, turns to me, and comes out with the kind of slick, knee-weakening, chastity-belt-rattling line that every person wants to hear whispered in their ear: "So I don't suppose you fancy it then?"
I'm only human, so needless to say I fainted to the ground from the heady Emily Bronte-esque passion aroused by the exchange, and after some concerned patrons resuscitated me with the aid of a dainty vial of smelling salts, I thought it best not to engage any further with such a lothario.
My sensitive disposition just couldn't handle such romance, such sincerity.
"Oh my, kind sir, I must decline," I gasped, in between bouts of blushing, panting and furiously fanning myself with a beer mat.
Seriously: is this what passes for chat-up lines now? Are we even bothering anymore? At least my friend X -- who, incidentally, pissed himself laughing at the story -- got the 'empty-gesture-but-at-least-it's-something' offer of a drink. I got offered 'it', whatever 'it' is.
I'm not a diva [cough], and I don't expect a big elaborate scene peppered with witty Aaron Sorkin-style banter. It's just that the evidence indicates that more and more guys are learning the art of seduction from The Simpsons' Moe Szyslak, the bilious barman who, when on the pull, comes out with lines like, 'So you seem pretty clean' and, 'You wanna go out sometime? You know, out back?'
Of course, it's quite, if not entirely, possible that it's just me who seems to attract such poor-quality pull quotes. And it's even more possible that that spiteful bee-atch Karma is sending them my way because of my own lame contributions to the field.
I'm the first to admit that I'm no James Bond either when it comes to dispensing the swoonsome bon mots -- far from it, in fact. I'm one of those types who lives -- or lets life pass by -- according to the more traditional chatting-up routine: coquettishly staring at, and then immediately looking away from, someone you fancy, mentally willing them, urging them, begging them to be the first to make a move.
The problem with this strategy is that a lot of -- let's be honest, most -- people do the same thing, leading to a state of inertia where nobody meets or scores with anyone.
Even worse is when you think you're good at the seductive stare, but then forget that as the night wears on, your peeping has drunkenly degenerated into the sort of intense gaze lifted right out of Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer. Best to save that one for your online dating profile.
Honestly, last weekend's experience has really shaken me to my core. No person deserves material that shoddy, right? It's a wake-up call, I don't mind telling you. At the risk of sounding perilously similar to The Secret, I need to start putting more of the stuff out there that I want to get back.
I'm going to have to make more of an effort, starting tonight, and it'd be reassuring to know that y'all are going to push it a bit more too.
I don't suppose you fancy it then?
- Declan Cashin
Irish Independent
