I knew from the start that Chinese tea girls were a scam. They take you to a restaurant, or club, or somewhere surrounded by four walls hidden from the public. You’re served a cup of tea, then a 300 dollar bill arrives along with the Chinese Secret Service kindly offering to escort you to the nearest ATM. Tea girls are all over the streets bringing oblivious tourists inside.
I first experienced cigarettes in sixth grade. I sneaked out my parents’ house in the middle of the night to go TP’ing with a friend. Some older neighborhood kids were sitting under a streetlight blowing giant plumes of smoke into the still night air. They had long greasy hair, baggy jeans, and absurdly long belts hanging past their knees. If one of them pulled out a switchblade and told us to take a hit, it would’ve been exactly as I imagined from all the PSA’s. But they didn’t. My friend came over and asked for one. They handed him a Marlboro Red 100 – the kind you only see in bowling alley bars and Keno lounges. He held the thing with all five fingers and smoked it like a fine Cuban cigar – then he threw up on the curb and never smoked again. I wasn’t so lucky.
She winked at me. I average about eight of these per year, none worth following up – except this one. She was a skinny 27-year-old blonde who wrote at the bottom of her page “If I dig your profile and you dig mine, let’s cut the bs and just meet up. I don’t need another pen pal.” I said I dug her profile, and we agreed to meet for lunch that Sunday.
– Mention Merle Haggard and Hank Williams for credibility. – Remind people of things they’re familiar with – like Budlight and Jesus. –…
About a month ago, my friend Jim invited me to a PUA (pick-up artist) seminar. “I’m going to this thing in two weeks, I think you should come.” he stated, pulling up an ad reading “Casanova Convention” on his laptop. “Seats are filling up fast,” he warned, letting the cursor blink in the quantity section. I’d like to say I refused, but I had no excuse. Having read “The Game,” I was curious. I told him to make it two.
An AIM conversation from early 2002:
I’ve lived in this city for over eight years now. As much as I enjoy walking along the beach in January wearing shorts and a…
“You two would be perfect for each other,” my friend Dylan’s girlfriend insisted after knowing me for five minutes.
“You’re such a great guy! Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” she pressed annoyingly.
I reflected on her question for a moment. If I was truly “great” she’d be slipping me her number when Dylan wasn’t looking and sending seductive glances – not talking to me like an overgrown baby. Still, she was right. I needed a girlfriend. I agreed to a blind date with her friend.
I needed a vacation. After talking to Dave Glenn, a guy with a trustworthy thirst for women and adventure, I booked a trip to Australia with Contiki – a company that boasts being “The best tour guide for 18 – 35 year-olds”. Two months later I jumped on a thirteen-hour flight to the land down under.
Kim was a cute skinny blonde who had complained to my friend Ben that there were “No good guys out there”. She wanted someone…
