Last night I sent someone over with the worst pickup line in the world, no, really, it wasn’t even a pickup line. It was a joke. A kindof insulting one, really. He bit, she bit, very funny, and it reminded me of how I met my most recent ex.
I saw him at the DNA (KMFDM show, a couple years ago?). Pretty cute, helmet in hand, clean. But what I notice is his smile. Nice to see someone smiling, especially in a goth/industrial scene. But, I’m hanging out with a friend of mine, and had recently sworn off dating motorcyclists. Mostly, I’d given up on the idea of dating, but, specifically: guys on bikes, bad. There’s another journal entry there, somewhere, later.
But I got bored, tipsy, and my friend stepped out for a cigarette. I see helmet-boy and think to myself that for fun I’m going to hit on him with a really shitty line. “So, what do you ride?”
Now this has got to be the stupidest fucking line in the world. Really, it just oozes cheesy. But, it worked.
He’s got a mille. We talk, etc, this surprises me and turns into a year and then some relationship.
Later I would remind him that he fell for the absolute worst pickup line in the world. He didn’t remember. He did remember talking about dirtbikes that night, and later he would whine “when we met, you told me you had a dirtbike, I thought you were a tomboy,” to which I would reply, “You told me you had an aprilia. I thought you were rich.” This was a very funny joke to me, but I think he never got over the fact that I am not a tomboy.
However, I think the pinnacle of my pick-up as dare/art/just-so-I-can-say-I-did-it was the motorcycle messenger guy I picked up in the gutter. I walked out of the apartment one day to go to the corner store and there was a guy laying under his bike in the red zone out front, fussing. I asked him if he needed tools or help, to which he responded “are you a motorcycle mechanic?” “sometimes.” Whatever it was, got fixed, I started to leave, and he jumped up and gave me his number. I had just returned from Burning Man, and my swollen sense of the absurd was telling me, “it would awesome to be able to say you picked this guy up, in the GUTTER.” This was around that same time that I had decided dating/picking up was really more entertainment than a means to an end. Long story short, had I been actually looking to date someone, I should have left that one in the gutter. Shits and giggles? Oh, yes, this guy was a winner, and the subject of many good laughs down the road. And these days, laughs are about all I want out of a good pick-up scene.