Still amazed and bewildered by the girl who put the “I want to date a man who makes $500k a year” post on Craigslist, I figured a sociological experiment would be in order. Are women in this city that shallow that they’ll take silver over substance? Does a regular guy stand a chance?
There’s nothing more indicative of a man’s wealth than what he drives. Seeing as the last time I owned a car the World Trade Center was still standing, I needed to find the next best thing. What can a man use to show his financial worth while in the lighting limitations of a Manhattan bar? It’s too dark for shoes, and too crowded for clothes. And like a touch-sensitive menu bar, the answer descended on me. The iPhone. Nothing is more recognized and elitist than Time’s Invention of the Year.
And so begins my experiment. Can a guy with an iPhone use it to pick up women?
Date: November 10, 2007
Place: Welcome to the Johnsons
Crowd: Manhattanites mixed with the B&T crowd spillover from La Caverna.
Cologne: Viktor & Rolf Antidote – lightly misted.
Confidence: Above average
Employment Status: Gainfully unemployed and quickly running out of my severance package.
I arrived at the bar with friends after a few hours of drinking and playing Guitar Hero. As such, I was lightly buzzed and my left wrist was sore from playing “Cult of Personality” on medium. I instantly spied several girls talking on one of the various couches. They gave me the once over and looked unimpressed.
It was then that I took out the iPhone. Now, this is a delicate operation. No one should talk on the phone in a crowded bar. It’s impolite to the person on the other end. I didn’t want these girls to think I was discourteous. Instead, I opted to surf the web, feigning that I was looking up our next venue for the night.
“Dude, how much do you love it?” He was about six three and looked like he just came off the Football field. My first catch of the night wasn’t a girl. The footballer reached into his pants and took his out. (His iPhone! His iPhone! Settled down.) He went through, with an exceptional amount of pride, his “added” applications. Other guys started to crowd around, asking questions about the camera, browser and Google Maps.
Suddenly, it looked like a Rugby scrum. Through the forest of bodies, I could see the girls putting their coats on just as a guy asked me how AT&T’s signal strength was in SoHo.
I forgot to take into account the guy factor. Put something small, electronic, and slightly impractical in front of guys and they’ll pounce like a pack of wolves on a three-legged deer. My plan had failed, but I chalk it up to the setting. Next weekend, I need to go more high-class. After all, money attracts money, right? I may have to lose the group of friends and just take a few select buddies of varying sexes. And I certainly need to keep the phone hidden from anything with facial hair ... ex-girlfriends included.
Place: Welcome to the Johnsons
Crowd: Manhattanites mixed with the B&T crowd spillover from La Caverna.
Cologne: Viktor & Rolf Antidote – lightly misted.
Confidence: Above average
Employment Status: Gainfully unemployed and quickly running out of my severance package.
I arrived at the bar with friends after a few hours of drinking and playing Guitar Hero. As such, I was lightly buzzed and my left wrist was sore from playing “Cult of Personality” on medium. I instantly spied several girls talking on one of the various couches. They gave me the once over and looked unimpressed.
It was then that I took out the iPhone. Now, this is a delicate operation. No one should talk on the phone in a crowded bar. It’s impolite to the person on the other end. I didn’t want these girls to think I was discourteous. Instead, I opted to surf the web, feigning that I was looking up our next venue for the night.
“Dude, how much do you love it?” He was about six three and looked like he just came off the Football field. My first catch of the night wasn’t a girl. The footballer reached into his pants and took his out. (His iPhone! His iPhone! Settled down.) He went through, with an exceptional amount of pride, his “added” applications. Other guys started to crowd around, asking questions about the camera, browser and Google Maps.
Suddenly, it looked like a Rugby scrum. Through the forest of bodies, I could see the girls putting their coats on just as a guy asked me how AT&T’s signal strength was in SoHo.
I forgot to take into account the guy factor. Put something small, electronic, and slightly impractical in front of guys and they’ll pounce like a pack of wolves on a three-legged deer. My plan had failed, but I chalk it up to the setting. Next weekend, I need to go more high-class. After all, money attracts money, right? I may have to lose the group of friends and just take a few select buddies of varying sexes. And I certainly need to keep the phone hidden from anything with facial hair ... ex-girlfriends included.
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This is funny! But you shoulda seen it coming. Gadgets attract guys. I guess I need to invest in an iPhone.
But as far as letting a woman know you have money and status, just being in Manhattan in the first place impresses me!