1. Pretending to be my gay ex-boyfriend.
If there’s one thing I know it’s how to get dumped — and get dumped good. Of course by “good” I mean “shockingly merciless” or “epically inhumane” since there really is no “good” way to get dumped, per se. Having excess knowledge of this, I did what was only natural and used it to concoct a list. I called it The 9 Worst Possible Ways To Be Broken Up With, and it was beautiful. That is…until it wasn’t.
Among these many unappetizing ways to get dumped is the ol’ “Have your friends do the dirty work for you” trick — a classic, if you ask me. Luckily I was able to take from my own high school experience, in which a guy pulled this exact move on me. And, as I revealed in the piece, it turns out this particular guy is now gay (and probably was all along). So I published the article, checked my Instagram for a bit, swallowed a couple spoonfuls of Nutella, and went back to take a look at the comments section where I found this:
First, my heart warmed a bit. Then I cringed. And then, as I was just deciding Sure, yeah, why not I’ll take him up on this, I find out that it’s NOT EVEN HIM who wrote it. Which, alas, brings me to the point at hand: You, unknown commenter, pretending to be my gay ex-boyfriend in what appears to be an attempt to have a drink with me. Surely there’s a simpler, less mysterious way you could’ve gone about this…non?
There’s just something about a hissing man that makes me swoon, said no human, ever. It’s odd; these hissing men seem to stand outside the boundaries of evolution. Survival of the fittest has led us to where we are today and implies future progression too. For instance things like our pinky toes, which are practically useless appendages, are bound to eventually die out or disappear. And as hissing men likewise serve no purpose and have received zero positive reinforcement, you’d think they would similarly fall by the wayside. Yet they haven’t budged, and probably never will. Hissing persists — and will continue to persist — and there’s nothing any of us can do about it.
3. Opening with “I just got out of jail.”
The word “jail” should never figure prominently in anyone’s pick up line — even I know that much. Just because we have a plethora of ways to communicate with each other, does not mean that your standards for life have plummeted. Put differently: just because you have the option of asking someone out over Facebook chat, does not mean you should go ahead and do this. Yet somehow, this method of asking-out has remained the number one way in which guys choose to try and pick me up. Blame it on my sweet luck, I guess! It’d be wrong not to admit that this was also a slight learning experience for me, as I did learn a new and creative way to ask someone out over Facebook chat that’s sure to incite immediate horror: jail. By which I mean: talking about jail (and bonus points if you were in it).
In September of 2013, a stranger Facebook messaged me: “hey :) I saw you in Soho I think…:)” already upping the creep factor with his unchecked use of the classic smiley. “Yes you probably did!” I responded. Then, six months later, this: “I was in jail so I didn’t reply :#”
Him: hahahaha. How are you?
Me: do I know you?
Him: I don’t think so. I wrote you before cuz I saw you and you were kinda babeish and then I went to jail.
Which reminds me…I’ve still got it.
4. Pouring your heart out along with my morning coffee.
Wherever I am, at any given point in time, I always have a coffee shop in close proximity that I call mine. I learn the ins and outs of the place and, eventually, my order. It’s usually something along the lines of tea and a muffin — sometimes a latte if I’m feeling jazzy — but not once, ever, have I asked for a date along with my order. And know why? Because dating and my morning tea and muffin are two distinct, exclusive entities that blend as well as oil and water. I can rarely stomach a side of OJ at that hour, and you know this; what makes you think I can stomach being asked out?
5. Beseeching me to watch you masturbate.
“Will you at least watch me jerk off?” was the question I was presented with, to be more precise. To be fair, this may not even qualify as a pick-up line. Perhaps it’s more of a plea or an entreaty. But for the sake of this list, we’ll call it one.
In hindsight, “at least” are the words that jump out at me most. “At least.” “Will you AT LEAST watch me jerk off.” Frankly I can’t recall what he proposed prior to this, but my god, it must have been an irresistible offer. “AT LEAST,” he pleads, as if the act of watching him masturbate should be so simple, so easy, and so beneficial to me that it would be absurd to pass up. And yet that’s not even the part I find so disturbing. What distresses me most is that, in one sentence, he made me privy to his entire psychoanalytic history. And that’s a burden I just can’t have weighing on me.