How Not to Hit on a Girl

I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, I got hit on! And I haven’t been hit on in a while, unless you count the vagrant lying in front of Dick’s Liquor. And being asked for beer money counts as being hit on.

The bad news is that the guy was a real poozer.

My friend Gabby and I walked into a crowded karaoke dive bar in Orange County, which, before TV made it popular, was better known as “that place you have to drive through to get from San Diego to LA.”

We tried to sit at a table marked “Reserved,” but a group quickly appeared and announced that it was their table. We apologized, found two spots at the bar and ordered wine.

Once seated, Gabby said she thought one of the guys in the group was cute. I checked him out and agreed, although he was more Gabby’s type than mine: golf shirt, baseball hat, khaki shorts. Standard OC yuppie leisure wear.

Gabby and I were chatting for a while when the golf shirt approached and started talking to us. It was a three-way convo for a while, but then the white Tiger Woods began focusing his attention on Gabby. They golfed at the same club, had a mutual friend in common and he complimented her on her hair and smile.

Cool, I thought. He’s right up Gabby’s alley. I let them talk and turned my attention to the bartender, who was belting out Honky Tonk Woman in the stylings of someone who hasn’t taken a crap in a month.

Then I heard White Tiger say, “So, can I get your phone number or your Facebook or something?” There was a bit of a silence. I glanced over at Gabby, who had a look on her face like someone had moved her cheese. Then I looked at White Tiger, and he was staring straight at me.

“Huh… me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. I was confused. Had you not just been blowing sunshine up my friend’s ass for the last seven minutes? Did I miss something?

I dodged the situation with sarcasm, as I often do when I don’t know what to say. “Whoa, Facebook? That’s moving a little fast, buddy.” (Truth be told, I wasn’t joking. I’ll put out for a guy sooner than I’ll friend him on Facebook.) He kept pressing me, asking if I wanted to go to the Van Halen concert with him. It was David Lee Roth, not Sammy Hagar, so I considered it.

As I said, he wasn’t my type, but I had just broken up with Tom and needed a distraction. Also, I kept hearing my gay bf saying, as he often does, “Go out with anyone who asks you! Because you never know!”

I wasn’t sure. Plus, I wanted to know how Gabby would feel about it. Would I be violating some kind of girl code by going out with a guy she flirted with in the bar? I needed to buy some time, so I told him I’d think about it. He went back to his seat and I turned to Gabby.

“What the fuck was that?” she said. OK, don’t go out with him. No prob.

“I don’t know!” I said. “I thought he was totally into you.”

We scoffed and rolled our eyes for a few more minutes before White Tiger came at me again saying his phone was about to run out of juice so he had to get my number now.

I told him I was just getting out of a relationship and thought it wasn’t a good idea. He said he’d just gotten divorced also, on Tuesday. Somehow he steered the conversation toward his job as a photographer and showed us some of his work on his phone, which displayed heavily made up Asian women in lingerie. It was as if Deb from Napoleon Dynamite took her Glamour Shot business into PG-13 territory.

He probed again for my number, and when I turned him down he asked if it had something to do with the photos.

“No,” I said. But they didn’t help, I thought. “Listen, you just got divorced on Tuesday, so I think you just need to sit with that for a while.”

He told me when he said Tuesday, he was being hyperbolic. That’s not hyperbole, dum dum. And by the way, could you just give it up, already?

Finally I just flat out told him I wasn’t interested. And to this he told me, and I quote:

You suck.”

I suck? Now don’t get me wrong, there are in fact plenty of ways I suck. For example, I often choose sleep over washing my hair. I rarely replace the dish scrubby thing. I once drove into a pole, broke off my rear view mirror and then tried to Krazy Glue it back on. I don’t deny sucking on occasion.

But let me tell you this, dickweed, I most certainly do not suck because I foiled your plans to get laid tonight or because your ego is as weak as a porn star’s sphincter muscle.

I mean, I get it. Rejection blows. I would hate to be a guy, faced with the pressure of approaching women and risk being shot down every time. I’m sure I’d totally choke. But if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t blame it on the chick. Grow up. If the boss doesn’t like your PowerPoint, do you call her a doo-doo head?

As I’ve said before, not everyone is going to like you. Deal with it.

The numbnuts then asked Gabby if she’d like to go to Van Halen. She said she wasn’t a plan B, then we both threw wine in his face and punched him in the balls.

I made that part up about the wine and balls. It would’ve been awesome, though.


What’s the worst way you’ve been hit on? What’s your best response to poozers? How do you like a man to approach you?

Categories: True Story

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33 replies

  1. Enjoyed this article immensely, though did not appreciate the OC digs as I live here and love it and firmly believe that SPFAs can be found everywhere. I’ve been out in the singles pool for almost two years and have more than enough material to start doing stand up. Haha-am sure this will get old but for now I’m still getting a kick out of all my adventures, good,bad and ugly. I think you handled this one admirably and am so glad you entertained us with it! Keep ’em coming .

  2. My preferred tactic in these types of situations is to just pretend like I’m a deaf mute.

    A series of smiles & “i don’t understand” stares carefully intertwined – confuses the hell out of them.

    They usually walk away after about the 3rd unanswered question. It’s funny to watch.

    great post!

  3. Brilliant! The dating scene is definitely a source of amusement……unless you can’t laugh at it….in which case it is extremely depressing! I tried online dating…..and from that experience I met the following women…

    – A recovering Heroin addict
    – A girl with an eating disorder (who after 2 dates asked me to help her move house)
    – A girl who had lost custody of her daughter after she tried to kill her
    – A girl on anti-psychotic medication

    But I never told any of them they suck…..I think I need to expand my repertoire?

    Greetings from Australia Single Girl! Rest assured your ‘struggles in singledom’ are also felt across the pond!

  4. Your writing definitely doesn’t suck, Ms. Girlie. I was just searching through WP for humorous blogs (since in theory, that’s what I write and prefer) and came across yours. This is the 3rd post of yours I’ve read and I’m now not so sure I’m funny anymore! Rock on, sister.

    • Aw, thanks, Sharon. Let me tell you something, girlfriend, I read other blogs all the time and subsequently decide I’m not funny. Then I slip into a mild depression until someone like you comes along and says something nice like that. It’s all incredibly unhealthy, I assure you.

      And for the record, I read your blog and you ARE decidedly funny. So take that!

  5. You suck? Wtf kind of lame ass dig was that? That guy RULZ – yeah, with a Z.

    Umm, the OC is a drive-thru county still & Ewww who would want an OC guy?

    You rule. You do not suck. And omg I choose sleep over washing my hair far more often than I care to admit.


    • Well, at least you have a good excuse – you’ve got a kid. If I ever had one I can’t imagine my hair would ever be clean. I’d just have to shave it off.

      Yeah, and I thought LA guys were douchey. Wonder who’d win in a douche-off – OC or LA?

  6. Priceless how you’re the one that sucks! I can’t imagine what you girls go through – I mean, with the amount of trolls that are out there, can’t the evolutionary process speed up a bit and gobble these guys up? Stay strong kid – never surrender, never give in, make everyone suffer!

  7. Further proving my theory that the dating pool’s awful polluted with immature idiots these days. I’ve seen and heard the same kind of responses from guys on dating websites begging chicks I’ve met or known in the past for dirty pics right after the “What’s up” effortlessly crude introductions and if they get shot down turning to the standard “You stuck up b*tch” childish responses. I feel like I’m in a timewarp watching this stuff happen and thinking “What happened to the joy and patience of the chase in dating?” Almost like you have to slap some people and say, “This is singlegirlie and her friend Gabby. They have thoughts, dreams, hopes, insecurities, and fears like everyone else. They deserve respect just like you do. Think about that before you open your pathetic little piehole and make yourself look like a sad little 14 year old boy who doesn’t get anything without acting like a immature little prick.” Being a man isn’t about wearing your masculinity on your sleeve and certainly not acting like a little boy if you don’t get your way with a woman.

    • I’ve got to do a slow clap for that one, Clint. Clap… Clap… Clap… Clap Clap… Clap Clap Clap… ClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClap!!!

  8. It’s a shame you didn’t post this guys name and photo! Warn off other women. Some might say unfair but “outing” poozers (since you like the word) like this might actually shame and/or embarrass them into slightly less misogynistic behavior. Or is it more likely anyone who would tell a complete stranger that “you suck” is beyond shame and embarrassment?

    • Ha – I don’t even remember the guy’s name, and I sure as hell didn’t take a photo. Besides, I always change names, even for the poozers. Mostly to protect, you know, myself.

      I don’t know if he’d be beyond shame. I imagine he either a) went home and realized what a fucktard he was and felt some shame or b) really thinks I suck and felt justified in telling me so. No idea which one.

  9. someone had moved her cheese??? hahaha, WTH? I ‘ve never heard/read that expression.speaking of witty shit, I heard a friend refer to her monthly uterine molt as “Shark Week” , boom.

    • You’ve never heard of the book “Who Moved My Cheese?” I thought everyone knew about it. Shark Week sounds about right. The other night I felt like my womb was being attacked by one.

      • ermmm, no. now googling “who moved my cheese?”.
        yeah shark week works on so many levels, blood ,pain and potential violence.

  10. Ahh, the classic “flirt with the friend of the girl you’re actually interested in to make her jealous” tactic. Followed by the “desperately lie and then resort to insults” gambit. The punch-to-the-balls would have been a bit too textbook a response, though; I would have gone with pretending to go to squeeze them while concealing a mini bear trap in my hand.

  11. “But let me tell you this, dickweed, I most certainly do not suck because I foiled your plans to get laid tonight or because your ego is as weak as a porn star’s sphincter muscle.”

    Absolutely loved this! Whenever a guy throws a douche move like this, it just makes you realize what a good decision you made in turning him down. Great read. Props to your friend for being so cool.

  12. I shall now add “poozer” to my vernacular. Watch for it in heavy rotation.

    Wait… when someone doesn’t like me, I can’t call them a doo doo head? I thought everything we needed to know we learned in kindergarten. Damn.

    • Isn’t that a great word? I’ve often wondered why it never caught on. Maybe you and I can make it happen. Just wait… pretty soon Tina Fey will say it on 30 Rock and then it’ll be as popular as “asshat”!

  13. Poor you…When you a recently single, my opinion is that meeting no one is better than meeting this type of guys, and being home alone moping and spraying Lysol on your bathtub is better than the average online date. So I’ve choosen to be single for a long time until I meet someone that doesn’t make me want to choose throwing myself in the subway lines rather than spending a minute listening to him. This is me, venting 🙂

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