-To me, single women in their twenties are like a preseason football game – it may seem like they’re trying to score, but really they just don’t want to get hurt.  On the other hand, single men are like the Super Bowl – they’re always trying to go all the way like it’s the last chance they’ll ever get.  This seemingly small difference in thinking leads to an extraordinary amount of waste generated by single men and women who have absolutely no clue what the other wants.  Money is wasted, time is wasted, and next thing you know it’s 4am on Saturday night and you’re alone…and wasted.  Go to any bar and you’re bound to see the mating ritual happening in pairs – two guys who’ve had two too many drinks circling the outskirts of the dance floor with two dollars combined left in their wallets staring at the two chicks at the bar clutching two overpriced handbags and ordering two more apple martinis.  But don’t worry, you’re not seeing double, you’re seeing single.

-The first decision that single men, like myself, must make is what to bar to go to in order to pick up women.  This decision is usually made over many drinks while pre-gaming with the boys at someone’s apartment.  Inevitably, you decide on a place where one of your buddies “heard there were gonna be a ton of hot chicks.”  That this has never once been true does not deter us.  The fact is, drunk single guys go to annoying bars for the same reasons weary travelers fly into Newark airport – it’s out of the way, it’s inconvenient, but you weren’t thinking straight and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

-The fact that the bars, clubs, and lounges of New York have become the arena for single mating puts guys at a serious disadvantage.  For one thing, we can’t get in unless we’re with girls.  But if we were with girls, we wouldn’t be going in the first place.  This leads to the desperate measure of getting on your cell phone and calling girls that you know are inside to come out and convince the bouncer to let you in.  And when that embarrassing situation is finally over, you get inside and usually head straight for the bathroom – where you are forced to piss in a trough filled with ice.  So I’ve been out of the house for about twenty minutes, I haven’t even hit on anyone yet, and I’ve already been completely emasculated.  I should have just left my balls at home.

-How to Lose a Guy in Ten Seconds at the Bar: tell me how much you enjoy being an investment banker, take a drag off your lipstick-stained Parliament, ask me if your fake ID looks real, mention your boyfriend who just got drafted by the Bears, discuss your opposition to pre-marital sex, order a mixed drink with Diet Coke, ask about the strange rash on your inner thigh, or tell me how you really have to get home tonight…to New Jersey.