 Why you never buy a girl a drink at a bar
Sit down children and let the All-father tell you a story.
I've always known fundamentally WHY you don't buy a girl at a bar a drink, but I just experienced one story last night that can elicit to even the most naive of why not.
Fundamental rule: When you buy a girl a drink, you're buying her time. You're telling her 'I'm not interesting enough to hold your attention without this drink, therefore, I'm bribing you to talk to me for the next 5 minutes or so.' That's why I never do this, now let me go into my little anecdote.
Last night Odin goes out to a bar with his brother-from-another-mother (BFAM) and a high school buddy (HS). We go to one bar for a bit, decide the music is to loud and the people are too douchey, so we head to a bar Odin usually goes to. It's closer to home, usually an older (mid-30s) crowd, and tolerable music levels. Plus the beer is cheap. Women being there is hit and miss.
We arrive. I say to my friends "Car bombs?" they agree. So I order a round of three Irish Car bombs (if you don't know what they are, you're sad) and a group of girls watch us. So I look at them and say "You ladies tell us who wins...it's all on you." So we count down and go. I clearly beat my friends by a second margin (a year in car bomb time) and triumphantly slam my glass on the bar and exclaim "I AM ALL THAT IS MAN!" (And I know all of you know I said this). So I ask the girls who won and one says "Of course you did" kind of bitchy. Her friend, however, wants to play ball. She leans into me across her friend a little and says "You know when you order car bombs, you're supposed to order for the whole bar." She then indicates her two other friends. I look at her, smile and laugh and then say "Really? How often has that one worked for ya?" She giggles but her friend that was really bitchy to me sucks her teeth and scoots her chair away from my general direction. Hey, if she can't take a joke, fuck her. I then decide to try and salvage the situation, if I can. I say to the Blonde. "How about a deal? Me and you, right now, car bombs. If I win, you buy them, if you win, I buy them." Bitchy McGee chimes in immediately "No, that's stupid she can't beat you." So I say to her "Have some faith in your friend, I just did one right now. I'm garbage right now, I think she could take me." She says "No, that's stupid, she can't." I just say "Wow, where's the spirit of competition, ladies?" and look away from them.
So I relegate that group as not all that hot and not worth getting over Bitchy McGee to get to the Blonde, who clearly enjoys my antics (in a last ditch effort, the Blonde asked me for a cigarette 15 minutes later, but I tell her I'm a runner and therefore, do not smoke). Bitchy McGee makes them leave a short while after that.
That was the prelude to insanity.
The night winds down a bit, and I had seen this girl talking to some dude in a hat all night. She's mid-40s, bleach blonde hair, big, botoxed lips, fake tits out to here and what I can only guess is a tummy tucked belly. She's the full package, but still pretty hot.
Now, my conversation with my friend had wound up somehow to a story of one of my exes, who BFAM knew, but HS didn't. So I'm talking about her, all of a sudden SuperTits puts her arms around BFAM's neck and says to me "You need to forget about her, she's no good."
I immediately laugh at this, she clearly doesn't know who she's talking to. My laughter beckons her forward to me. She starts subtly rubbing her breasts on my shoulder, which would normally appear to be a sign of interest...I am dubious.
She starts telling me I'm too hot to be going after one girl and starts rubbing my muscles. I tell her that she's not too bad herself and that I'm not going after one girl...not by a long shot. She then tells me good because it would be a shame if I was only fucking one girl. I tell her I would never deprive the female gender of that, in good conscience. Then she grabs my crotch in relation to something she was saying about me giving it as often as I could. Then she mentions it's not hard. I tell her 'Are you fucking kidding me? You're going to have to do a lot more than that to get a reaction out of me.' She smiles, then hugs me and kisses/licks my ear.
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner.
The whole time she's talking to me and rubbing up on me, I'm calmly drinking my beer. She tries to play my game on me, realizing I have a big ego. She tries to tear it down a little. She asks me "What, are you twelve?" I say to her "No, I'm not, but you look about 50." At which point she laughs and then grabs her breasts and says "Honey, if I still look this good at 50, you'll be glad to have me." I respond with a simple "True." I may be an asshole...but she has a point. She then tries again telling me my dick is small, so I tell her "That's only because I didn't have the 10,000 dollars to blow on implants like you did." Strike 2, SuperTits. She insults me one more time, I don't remember what it was and I look at my friends, laugh and go, "I like her, she can stay."
I pull her up a chair, she's now become tonight's entertainment. Whatever, she's already grabbed my dick, why not see what it's worth. As she sits down she squeezes my hand and then tries to lecture me on why I shouldn't talk to my ex. She tells me she's too young and no good for me, I explain to her "Oh I know that. She's a horrible choice for me. I just want to finish what I started. But I'm not spending money or putting any effort into it. You see, she's dating a fat, ugly, hairy loser right now and their relationship is rocky...all I have to do is exist and, reap the benefits." She then looks at me and says young girls are inexperienced, don't know how to work it, and if I've ever gotten a blow job from an older woman. Picking up on the not so subtle nuance, I ask her if that was an invitation. She then tells me she's not easy. I laugh. So does she. She keeps rubbing my leg throughout the entire conversation.
Finally, I finish my beer, but I decide that, you know what, I'm not done at this bar yet. So I say loudly to my friends, I think I'll have one more for the road. So she looks around at the three of us and says "Aren't any of you going to buy me a drink?" I look at her and laugh then ask "Why? How about you buy ME a drink?" We banter for a little bit after this, it's friendly and flirtatious of course. Then she puts on her coat, says she's going out for a cigarette and walks out of my life forever.
Moral of that story, ladies and gentlemen, is that she was never interested in me, at all. She heard my story about my ex, thought I was a chump and decided she could flirt with me a little bit and get a drink or two out of me before moving in. The escalation in flirtations that you saw in that story were meant as a way to reel me in. She realized, however, after her initial two attempts failed that I was a force to be reckoned with. Finally at the end, she threw the Hail Mary and flat out ASKED me to buy her a drink (which I respect). But no, I wasn't going to by some plastic old whore at a bar a drink, not with my money I wasn't.
See, one thing you'll notice in this story is that she never gave me her name. In Neil Strauss's the Game, he has things called Indicator's of Interest, or IOIs. One IOI is physical touching, OK. SuperTits had that. But one IOI does not a hook up make. I never introduced myself, and she never bothered herself, meaning she wasn't in it to win it, she wasn't in it for the long run.
So speaketh Odin.
For this knowledge I will be expecting the gifts of your sister's virginity by dawn. |