When I was a younger guy, I took pride in the fact that I could talk to any girl in the bar. My friends held me in high esteem for this, what I considered very simple, ability. They would send me into the field when all hope of leaving with a lady's number seemed all but lost. In retrospect, I'm making it seem like I was a Green Beret of vagina. But, that's what it felt like.
I'd get my directive and hone in on the target. My approach would be stealth, their defenses down, and I'd move in for the kill with a swift "hey, what's going on?" of my mouth machete. By the end of the night, everyone was laughing and a conversation was had. Sometimes it ended with makeouts, others with hugs and handshakes, while most ended with numbers exchanged. My friends were happy and things went better than expected.
Now a days, I'm like the bitter, old vet who scowls when they see something they don't like. I find myself not having any patience to speak to some girls when only a few years ago, I'd talk to any of them. If she wasn't interesting, I wouldn't ask for her number at the end of the night. She would just be someone to chat with and I'd find something that would link us together and carry the conversation for the rest of the evening. We'd laugh and in the back of my head I'd silently whisper, "gosh you're a dumb girl." Those words are now a struggle to keep in my head and the booze ain't helping.
It's no longer about trying to keep the girl entertained enough to get a reward at the end of the night. If she's (let's call it what it is) an idiot then I will have absolutely no tolerance for it. The worst part is that I don't leave. Why don't I leave? It's not hard to simply turn around and walk away while she blabs on about her crappy day care job. My brain is yelling at me "freaking bail, man!" But I don't.
Know why? Because I'm cooler than her. That's why!
This conversation is no longer about you. No, it's not about getting your number nor because you have the hottest body in the joint. It's because I'm cooler than you and I'm not leaving until you know it. It's about me and how cool I am and how much you suck compared to the thunderbolt of awesomeness that is my life. You're going to love me and find me witty, funny, and charming. Maybe another idiot will fall prey to your trap, but not me.
Well, I guess I'll try my hand at speed dating. Seems like those people might have the right idea.