Oh, my darlingest invisible friend. Sometimes, in this wasteland that is my life, bounty appears. I never see it coming. I never know from whence it comes. But come, it does, in all of its glorious abundance.
This time, it came from the Land of eSchmarmony.
In case you were unaware, dearest, eSchmarmony will periodically email its victi--ahem, customers with gentle advice on how to find the love of one's life. These articles and slideshows are super, by the way, filled with words of wisdom. Things like, how to pick to the right photo[s] for one's profile. [NB: It's NOT the shot taken by cell phone in the bathroom mirror. Who knew?] How to recognize relationship sabotage. [Evidently, sleeping with one's emotionally abusive ex is bad.] How to spot red flags. [They're red. And they wave about like...well, you know.] And most recently, sandwiched between a list of movies that "make men cry" and a "free" newsletter that offers the secret to lasting love, was the unexpected wealth of information called.....
[Wait for it.]
Top Ten Pick-Up Lines.
Now, my initial reaction to this was a teensy bit derisive. After all, mine is a testosterone-poor existence. If I had eligible males in my vicinity on whom I could practice such techniques as pick-up lines, would I be on eSchmarmony to begin with??? No. In case you wondered, no. Okay, probably not.
I didn't realize the gift I'd been given, the gift I would share with you, dearest of all fictional friends. Let me extend to you now, the experience of eSchmarmony's Top Ten Pick-Up Lines.
And my responses to each.
All right, all right. These aren't necessarily my responses. They're just response one might encounter if trying to use these nuggets of social gold. Here we go
Top Ten Pick-Up Lines [from eSchmarmony]
Number One: Hey, I Love Your Shoes (or Handbag or Coat, etc.)
No. I'm sorry, no. Because you're gay. You might not realize it. But you're hitting on the wrong gender. Embrace who you are! Be proud! Yay, you!
Number Two: "Hi, I would love to get you a drink."
Sure....but who's paying for it? And I'm not easier when I'm drunk, just so you know. More belligerent. Or...oh my gosh! I'm sorry! I didn't realize you were our server tonight! Could I start a tab, please?
Number Three: "What kind of dog is that?"
[Okay, this one might actually work on me. Unless I get ultra-focused on dogs and forget there's a guy standing there. This has actually happened.
Friend: That guy was flirting with you.
Me: No, he wasn't.
Friend: Yes, he was. And you started talking about canine intestinal problems.
Me: So what?
Friend: You're an idiot.]
A non-dog freak, however, might respond with:
That's not a dog, that's my nephew/offspring/sister/mother/et cetera. [Things go downhill after this.]
Number Four: "Are you single?"
Insensitive reply: Yes, and thank you for reminding me why.
Sensitive reply: [muffled sobbing] Have you been talking to my mother???? I'm still a person, you know!! I still have value in this couple-driven society! [Things go downhill after this.]
Number Five: "Hi, who's your friend?"
Are you kidding? You walked across the room, shoved by hordes of people milling about, and you're asking about my friend??? [Things really go downhill after this.]
Number Six: "Nice to meet you. I'm ____ and you are beautiful."
Murphy's Law: Thank you, that's a lovely--oh dear, I can't believe I just spilled my....
Vision of self: Really? So you like the old-baggy-yoga-pants-and-ponytail-through-eggbeater look?
PMS: Uh huh. You're not getting laid.
Number Seven: "I bet you were an awfully cute baby."
Ew. That's just wrong.
And you're still not getting laid.
Number Eight: "How much does a polar bear weigh? Enough to break the ice."
Seriously? Is that [sniff] is that [sniff] is that Limburger? That was some majorly stinky cheese, buddy.
And you brought up the weight of a polar bear to me because...?
Number Nine: “Excuse me, but you have something on your face," (when she goes to wipe it off you stop her and say) "No, no leave it. It's beauty."
Excuse me, but I seem to have gotten something on your shoe. Yeah, you probably want to wipe it off. It's vomit.
And Number Ten: "WHO are you?"
Who am I? Who the [insert appropriate copulatory Anglo-Saxon term here] are you?
And you're still not getting laid.