It had been a fabulous day, a much needed one, to break up the dreariness and gloom of a January in London. I had spent the afternoon lunching and laughing with my one of my favourite people, my amazing book agent, only to be followed by a long overdue cake and catch up with one of my oldest London friends (whom, incidentally, I had met on the Northern line seven years ago).
As I made my way up the tube escalator of my home station, a man behind me said, “Can I ask you your opinion about a new business idea?” Always happy to brainstorm ideas with a budding entrepreneur, I said “Sure, let’s hear it.” He told me the basics. His idea had to do with setting up a dating service for strangers to meet on the tube. Maybe this should have been my first cue to be suspicious? As I asked him some general questions, such as, had he done any research to prove that there was actually a need for this service, because for myself, I offered, I actually enjoyed the quiet time on the tube to read my newspaper, he said that he had ‘loads’ of research. I asked him what his sample size was and he assured me that ‘millions’ of people wanted this service. It was his impossibly high sample size, the fact that he didn’t seem to be listening at all to my business suggestions, and the fact that he seemed to be more interested in where I was from, than anything else, that soon alerted me to his real motives. He needed a jolt back into reality. “Are you trying to chat me up, or do you really want my business advice?” I asked him. A bit surprised to have been found out, he told me that although he could ‘chat me up if he wanted, because he was a confident guy’ he only wanted my business advice. He then proceeded to interrupt me, cut me off, and talk about anything else. After asking me for my card and a polite, “I don’t think so” from me, I said good-bye and left.
There is only one conclusion. As confirmation to my friend’s suspicions at our champagne Sunday, this guy has been reading The Game: He is also the perfect example of why it doesn’t work. First of all, it’s not genuine. Women can spot a fake a mile away. And, contrary to the first rule of flirting, this interaction didn’t make me feel good. This is what flirting is all about! The interaction was completely one-sided. It was all about him, and whether he felt that he could impress me. Telling me how great he was, doesn’t usually do the trick. And, finally, he wasn’t comfortable, even though he was trying to fake it by telling me how ‘confident’ he was. Guys, this is not effective flirting! He would have done much better if he has approached me in an open and honest way, even simply saying, “Hello, you are looking lovely today.”
I sent my friend a text, confirming her suspicions about how flirtiness is being replaced by (pseudo) smoothness. I don’t like it one bit, and I am sure that I am not alone. Leave the smoothness for the New Yorkers or the Parisians. They are better at it and have much more experience. Don’t tamper with the shy, sweet, awkwardness of the Londoners. And, while we’re at it, can someone please take me back to a time where The Game and its disciples didn’t exist?
Monday, 4 February 2008
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2 comments:
I haven't read The Game, and knowing me, you know I never will. But I do think that you give women too much credit for their ability to spot fakes. I mean, if that were the case, I wouldn't have heard the bizarre number of sob stories that I have, straight from the horses' mouth, or rather, the mares' mouths. Not even all women I know like the honest approach, some of them do prefer the endless beating around the bush.
It has been proven that women's intuition is far greater than men's. If one were to believe in evolutionary psychology (not that I am a firm believer in the slightest) one would posit a woman needed this intuition in order to make choices which would be critical to her longevity, and the survival of her family, about who had the greatest potential for a good mate. Luckily, these days women have more independence in this area, but still rely on their superior intuition.
But, let's put it this way, most women can spot a bullshitter a mile away.
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