I never professed to be suave and/or sophisticated, and cripes, why would I? I am much too shy to boldly leap into frays where I know I am not wanted, other than to collect news, and then I will.
But, I have a confession to make.
I once attempted to pick up a woman in a bar. It was just once. I did scoop up a date from a Dairy Queen store (pardon pun) many years ago, and it wasn’t in Estevan, so there!
I can write freely about this excursion into the dating world years ago because I know the bride won’t be jealous. She doesn’t read this column. She claims she’s been embarrassed enough over the years. Anyway, she’s heard the story.
Besides, it was decades ago of course, so that woman in the bar probably isn’t there now.
I set the scene.
Bachelor Norm, not blissfully engaged, Norm, was driving back to southern Saskatchewan having attended a playoff hockey game somewhere in the provincial-central nether regions as a superbly talented sports reporter.
I decided to stop in Humboldt, Sask., for a refreshing drink.
I entered the establishment, saw there were six people (mid-afternoon) sitting at tables.
I ordered my beverage while seated on a bar stool when lo and behold, I spotted a most gorgeous woman sitting at a table with her friend, just chatting away.
I have no idea what possessed me, since I usually shrank away from such encounters, but she was one of those magnet-like creatures we guys rarely see, so I approached the table and blurted out the worst pickup line of all time!
“I probably love you, and I think I’m sincere,” I said with a stupid grin.
“Well, at least that one’s different,” said the lovely lady with an arched eyebrow and a big grin, before turning back to her friend to re-engage in their conversation. Obviously, she had some experience in this category of rejecting stupid lines from stupid men, and I had scored a new low, or high. I wasn’t sure.
I feebly sauntered back to the bar stool, finished my drink and returned to my vehicle (nope, wasn’t even close to .04 folks, I’m sure of that) but before I left, I asked the bartender what the ladies were drinking, paid for their next round just before my exit, just so they’d know I wasn’t trying to stubbornly insist on cracking their conversation or interrupt their afternoon. It was my way of apologizing, and since I was gone, I have no idea whether or not they accepted the drinks “from the gentleman who just left.” I hope so. That was my one and only foray into the bar scene pickup world and it wasn’t pretty.
Why I raised this humiliating topic was because I got engaged in a conversation the other day about the world’s worst pickup lines and that embarrassing moment in my life came roaring back to haunt my memory bank once more. I threw it out into the conversation, as my nominated entry as the very worst pickup line ever. I think I won the debate because there was very little disagreement with my assessment.
As for the Dairy Queen? I was more successful. The lady didn’t become a girlfriend or anything of that nature, but she did become a sincere friend who remains a good friend to this day.
So, if anyone needs some good solid advice on dating and introducing yourselves to the opposite sex, for crumb’s sake, don’t seek me out. I have nothing to give and I’m very sincere about that dear diary. Sometimes ignorance is good.
