Date: 17 Aug 1996
Yet another in the series of How-To's brought to you by the drunk who learned everything he has forgotten while staring though the bottom of a bottle:
Most single (and married) men have theories on how to meet women; Some will tell you to wear a shirt with a collar, some to wear a open neck shirt, those that know me normally just suggest I actually wear a shirt. The meeting places also vary; the fresh produce aisle at the supermarket, the waiting room at the VD clinic or the local bar after the AA meeting. Well my secret is far more subtle: just hang around the entrance to the ladies at any pub. It's a well known fact that the average woman has to go to the toilet at least 15 time a night so you are guaranteed to meet every woman in the place at least once.
Opening lines are also much easier then: 'So did you wash your hands?' normally gets some attention (read 'slap' for 'attention'); even the old favorite 'Do you come here often?' takes on a whole new angle while you are holding up the wall with one hand and trying to make the beer-spill down your front look like a fashion statement.
As foolproof as this method is, sometimes fate throws a curve and you have to roll with the punches (or what ever form of self defense she employs) Take last night for instance: There we are (me and bruv) staggering around this concert taking full advantage of the half price booze when a vision appears behind us and say 'Sit the fuck down' or words that effect. Generally after a dozen or so cold ones a request like that would be met with a)an empty beer can b)the under side of a size 13 boot c)a slurred 'Watz your probim?' d)all of the above. But being in a good mood (read 'jovially drunk' for 'good') I decide to take the diplomatic approach and suggest that this woman make good of the situation and instead of complaining, climb on my shoulders and get the best view.
To cut a long story short I end up with a phone number and a promise of dinner - will wonders never cease?
A small note: Upon returning home at 1:30am, I pass by #adb and bump into the birthday boy, Darsy. We get chatting and he decides its a great idea to phone me up. After a few minutes the phone rings and a very drunken conversation follows with much accent abuse etc and I make the fatal mistake of giving Darsy this poor woman's phone number. He proceeds to call her up (by now its 2am) and put in a good word for me. Any bets as to whether or not I will be eating alone tonight?
Cheers
ALAN
One small stagger for a drunk, one giant leap for DB kind.