Dangerous reading for a Monday morning.

April 23, 2007 at 8:54 am | Posted in gorgeous irish models, hot women who want my lad, tales of youth, where were all the sluts when I was growing up | 32 Comments

Sit down for a minute, because I have to tell you something shocking.

Comfortable? Good. I don’t want you to collapse. Imagine how thick you’d look at the hospital. “Oh, well, I was reading kav, who is, like, the greatest blogger in the entire fuckin world, and he admitted something so overwhelming in its unbelievability that I fainted and hit my head off the radiator.”

Doctors are a sceptical bunch at the best of times, and, well, I wouldn’t believe that story either.

Here it is: I’ve never been particularly successful with women.

I know, that’s staggering, and you find it hard to believe that someone as incredible in bed* as me would be saying such a thing, but it’s true. I blame the all-boys school I went to for stunting my development. That, and levels of self-awareness so crippling that they’d put the cast of Dawson’s Creek to shame.

There was, however, a brief period back when I was twenty (the age, not the blogging phenomenon) where women, and, if I’m being completely honest, men too, found me absolutely irresistible. Fortunately for me, I happened to meet my future wife in the midst of all this sweaty action, so I’m now able to look back on that time without tainting it with the hollow bitterness of cynicism.

It’s one night in particular I want to tell you about, though. Now, I know women will be reading this and saying “Ara, jaysis, that happens me ten times a night when I go out”, and because of your familiarity with this kind of situation, what follows might lose some of its impact. Just try to imagine it from someone who’s never been anything but the pursuer in any kind of relationship.

It was a dark, stormy night. No, seriously, it was. This isn’t the start of a secondary school essay. Besides, night is always dark.

So, myself and Brian met up for a few pints on this dark, stormy night. We were in our last year of university then, and of course were all jaded and contemptuous of the club scene; having spent the past five years immersed in it, we were now at the top rung of the coolness ladder and so shunned the very clubs we grew up in in favour of quirky little pubs filled with gassy regulars. The same pubs we first started drinking in years before. Perhaps it’s less a ladder than a parabola.

It was one of those good nights where the conversation flows as fast as the booze, and before we knew it, it was last orders and we were still thirsty. Despite our reservations about going to a club to mix with mere undergraduates (yes, we were still undergraduates, but that’s hardly the point, is it) we decided that the GPO needed us to continue the chat and the bevvying, so in we went. We were far too late to get seats, but this was only a wet Tuesday or Wednesday or something, so the club was not exactly heaving.

Halfway through our second pints, I felt a tap on the shoulder, and turned to find a rather attractive-looking young lady. Petite, brown-eyed and brown-haired, she was fixing me with a dazzling smile. Then she opened her mouth, and out popped the thickest, most strangulated redneck accent I’d ever heard.

“I’ve been watching you all night from across the room.”

I swear to God, she said that. How feckin cool is that? In a retro way, of course. Man.

“Well, why don’t you go on back over there and keep watching,” I replied, and turned back to my conversation with Brian.

Heh, not really. I wish I had had the guts to say something that scathing and dismissive, but I’m just too damn nice. All I did was smile and say “sorry, I’ve got a girlfriend”. She was very gracious, and held her head high as she walked back to her seat. I was impressed.

Now, bar one or two less memorable occasions, that’s pretty much the only time in my life I’ve been openly hit on. That said, Linzi says that I wouldn’t know if a woman was flirting with me unless she parted her legs and asked if I wanted to come inside.

What I want to know is, what chat-up lines have you used? What ones have you had used on you? Did they work? I’d especially like to hear from the lads, as this whole “women taking the lead” thing still has the power to shock me. Do it more, ladies! It fills unconfident gobshites like me with a strange feeling, and I’m convinced that, for a little while after that nice girl bared herself to me, I almost felt…attractive.

*power naps, you understand. I’m brilliant at them.

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  1. My favourite one was seing this girl beckon a friend of mine from the other side of the bar. He obediently went over to her and when he reached her she said ‘If my finger can make you come imagine what the rest of me can do’. This resulted in my friend going bright red and fleeing the pub at lightening speed. Priceless.

  2. Worse one ever used on me was in Austalia in a club called the Woolshed. The guidebook said that if you couldn’t score in this club to give up and go home.

    Hours of fruitless waiting and finally a guy comes over with the killer line of,

    “that’s really big hair you ‘ave”

    Not really a lot you can say after that. Snogged him anyway.

  3. I stopped reading after you used the word “frickin”. What’s wrong with you? Jesus!

  4. conor: Saucy. Why oh why did he run?

    flirty: Snogged him anyway? So, pick-up lines don’t really matter at all then, do they?

    sweary: Sigh. I was getting into character. But anyway, I changed it to something more hard-hitting. Fuck me, it’s hard keeping everyone happy.

  5. Ah, the chat-up lines I used to use are shite. But the best chat-up line they’ve used on me is no chat-up line at all, just a straight snog.

    And i wasn’t anywhere near Oz.

  6. itelli, did that not leave you wondering whether or not you were the tenth person they had salived that night? I’ll never forget one new year’s eve, when a girl snogged me, then went and snogged someone else, then someone else….and so on. I nearly puked, thinking of cold sores and the like.

  7. Where were the sluts?? In Cavan for Christ’s sake! Easy like a bagful of Social Sciences girls, they are.

    I’ve used a few chat-up lines when I thought I was getting close; Smirnoff Ice is a bitch to remove from a navy Lacoste shirt, I can tell you that much.
    But your story about hitting your peak at twenty gives me hope Kav: two years to go!

  8. Sometimes I’ve managed something audible, and I’m very pleased if it’s a whole word even if doesn’t exactly constitute chatting up, like “table” or “umbrella” – it’s usually a noun; verbs are too active.

    The idea of uttering an entire line, let alone that it be intelligible never mind charming, is crazy talk.

  9. Dario: Enjoy it while you can. 20 was my Everest, and now I’m rapidly skiing downhill for the rest of my life.

    Eolaí: You’re a man after my own heart. I’m a tongue-twisted bastard when it comes to teh oul dry chat.

    I could be happily having a conversation with an ugly or otherwise unattractive girl, but throw in any sort of attraction at all, and I’m fucked.

    Except I’m not, if you know what I mean.

  10. It did, kav. But after she did, we finished our drinks and then home for sweets 🙂 After that, we were exchanging body fluids for about 7 months. Just the two of us. Only then she went and snogged someone else.

    So, the answer to the question is no. Not for more than 30 seconds.

  11. I find sauntering up to some brasser in a club and whispering in her ear “Perhaps it’s less a ladder than a parabola,” gets me laid every time.

  12. Holy shit, Flirty! The woolshed in Cairns! I lived in Cairns for 6 weeks. That place is a brothel! Oh the memories!

  13. Her “I’ve been watching you all night”
    You “I’ve got a girlfriend”
    Her (Thinking) ” Does she let you out of the house with the size sticker still on the leg of yer brand new jeans every night then?”

  14. I once went up to a girl in a nightclub and told her that the check pattern on her blouse was the same as my boxer shorts. it worked.

  15. Listen. We have to get something straight between us.

    Always gets a giggle. Sometimes the giggle leads to the tickle. And if the tickle leads to the wiggle …

  16. Are you sure that wasn’t just the first part of her sentence Kav?

    i.e. “I’ve been watching you all night from across the room and I think we might be related?”

    Either way, blonk of the every few days.

  17. “I once went up to a girl in a nightclub and told her that the check pattern on her blouse was the same as my boxer shorts. it worked.”

    Lollerskates

  18. itelli: That’s horrible. I can’t imagine the amount of pain that must’ve caused you. My heart goes out to you.

    blarneyman: It worked for me…sort of.

    Devin: I am laughing out loud here, seriously. That could happen.

    peadar: Genius! Was that in the 70’s?

    Sneezy: Cheeky, I like it. Great fodder today for lots of future half-arsed wisecracks.

    Annie: Or maybe “I’ve been watching you all night from across the room and my friend and I both agree that you are the most horrendous being we’ve ever laid eyes on”. Thank you for the BOTEFD, I feel like a king, a damn royal regal king.

  19. Old Knudsen offered me a tenner if I’d take out my dentures.

    Does that count as a chat-up line?

  20. Slow sets at the GAA club dishco. No need for a chat up line. As long as she said yes when you asked her to dance, that was it. A bit of shiftin’ on the dancefloor with the obligatory, cheeky feel of her hole and next thing you know you’re out the back amongst all the drink crates wearing the face off each other having the randiest sex you can have with all your clothes still on. If she wasn’t a prude you’d get a grand hand-job to smile about for the rest of the week too.

  21. “I’m willing to bet that you buck better than me ma”

    it has a 72% success rate.

  22. I think we’re related. I too am a sexual legend unapreciated in my time.

    I’m the modern art of sex – unpleasant and hard to understand but somebody somewhere will delude themselves into thinkin it’s good.

    PS – You get an extra star for using the word “parabola” without sounding pretentious.

  23. I am the master at “dealing” with the older ladies at work. They love to flirt with the waiter and I love to take their money. Its like whoring but without having to get your lanyard out.
    The cheaper and cheesier the line, I swear I use these and that they work:
    All to tables of middle aged older women,

    “A vodka madam? And if i could just see some id, its over 21 here?” Nailed!

    “4 sisters is it? Out for the night?” Clearly one will be the ma but again it works.

  24. A radiator? My doctor definitely wouldn’t believe that one. I’ve only seen a radiator in movies or TV shows.

    Ah, chat up lines. It’s easy for us girls. “So, you wanna have a go, or what?” has always worked well for me.

  25. The worst Oirish accent i’ve ever heard is my wife’s (Yank) It starts off in Limerick, meanders on up to belfast and then takes a boat to Scotland before ending up somewhere between New Delhi and Peshawar.

  26. I’ve used some fucking awful ones, but they tend to be very direct. I remember mouthing across to another table to a girl: “Do you fancy a shag?” That worked, though later I cam to regret it.

    I’ve also never had a clue if someone’s flirting with me. They actually have to become naked and request sex for me to understand. It’s strange; in the day, I would happily have hit on someone without even wondering if they were up for a slice of badger pie. These days… Nah, can’t be arsed. Though with SLF it was a different matter.

  27. Sorry Kav, i posted a comment that was meant for Sweary on your comments by mistake. That’s what i get for trying to Blog-multitask before the first cup of coffee has primed me for action.

    Though, You Galway fuckers all look the same to me anyway.

  28. MJ: Depends how you responded. And I know you followed through, so don’t even bother trying to convince me otherwise.

    derfen: Classic, you can’t bate a good old MPJ.

    Knudsen: That success rate is when you’re fully dressed. I bet it shoots up to mid-90’s when you take your top off.

    Niolk: It’s tough bearing this burden, isn’t it? Unappreciated in our own time, we’ll have to settle for becoming legends.

    Manuel: Cheeky bastard, I wish I could do things like that. My line would probably be “Granny’s birthday today, is it?”.

    FS: You girls just have it so easy. It’s such an uneven playing field.

    derfen: I sometimes head off into the Indian side of things when I’m doing certain accents. Odd, that.

    badgerdaddy: You came to regret it? Masterful pun, or accident? Good line though. I try that most nights with Linzi, but it has limited appeal.

    Badger pie, excellent.

  29. derfen: You know, I kind of guessed that, but I didn’t want to be rude. Don’t worry, it’s all one big crazy rocking non-stop party.

  30. I never really even thought as a chat-up line at the time, but now that I think of it, telling a person they look like someone famous had a phenomenal success rate. There are so many Irish guys who fancy themselves as a bit of Colin Farrell..

    I have to admit I might’ve been a victim of that once or twice, depending on who I was compared to. “That one from East Enders” was doomed to fail, whereas “Sophie Ellis Bextor” always got me at least talking 😀

  31. I’ve been reading through all these comments (getti greately amused on teh way) and thinking “Ahh…but all that banter’s fine, but you really need to get to know someone over a long period of time.” And then gloomily reflectiong on how utterly useless this method has been for so many years it’s emabarassing to say.

  32. laurenen: I admit to falling for that one once or twice. Though it wasn’t Colin Farrell I was compared to, it was yer man from Green Day. The ugly bastard. 😦

    looby: Stop, becuase I think that way too. The way I see it, the chase is all well and good, but it gets hollow. As long as you’ve still got the interest to work on the relationship, it’s more worthwhile. That’s what I tell myself, anyway…


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