BARchetypes: The guy without a clue

Where Should I Move Next?

Perhaps you know this scene:

Stunning girl, long hair, sharp features, small figure, taut breasts, a glaze of early-20-something disinterest over her eyes.

A guy.  Doesn’t matter what he looks like or what he’s got, doesn’t matter if he’s Brad Pitt or Paul Giamatti, Mark Zuckerberg or Ghandi; he’s just another guy trying to pound a girl.

He’s hovering next to her while she’s leaning back on her heels and holding a drink that was paid for by someone other than her (maybe our guest of honor, maybe some other guy who has already disappeared into the bar’s empty sympathy).  He’s talking, she’s almost listening with her eyes all but meeting his and her answers generally evasive.

“Yeah, that’d be fun.  Mhm, definitely.  You should call me.  Well, I work a lot, but leave a message, I’ll call you back.”


Ladies and Gentleman:  The Guy Without A Clue.

This poor bastard has spent the better part of an hour paying for drinks.  Not just for this delicate piece of fine cuisine, but for her friends (girls and guys) and even any random interloper who has even hinted at stealing her attention.  As long as he’s paying, he’s got the right of first refusal.  Them’s the rules.

But:  This Pretty Young Thing, this Bodacious Babe, this Scrumptious Delicacy, she’s got guys buying her drinks every night of the week.  She walks out the door with her sweet-but-homely best friend or her gay (maybe not gay) roommate, and immediately a line of suckers already have their wallets opening up like a Catholic schoolgirl’s legs.

This fellow is a good guy, knows how to have fun, probably even makes a decent wage, and 9 times out of 10 could snag a Boobs Mcgee if his sights were set that low.  But, tonight, this sap has spotted the Local Model and he’s walked straight into a booby trap (pun viciously intended).  He is going to end the night having spent upwards of $200 for nothing more than a vague promise to do something next weekend (it ain’t gonna happen).

As the  philosopher Dave Attell says, “Women have all the power because women have all the vaginas.”

If you’ve ever watched this scene unfold, you recognize the schadenfreude inherit in the situation.  You commiserate with the guy’s completely honorable intention to get some strange, but at the same time you’re glad it isn’t you wasting your money and self-respect trying to pick up a girl that is never gonna give it up.

This guy might have a disappointing evening, but the rest of the bar is gonna live it up on his dime.

If you are witness to this sad little dance, be nice to the guy, joke with him, help him take his mind off of his inevitable humiliation.

And look on the bright side: You’ll probably get a free drink or two out of it.