'A fanook, a fruit, and not just a touch of it either.'
'“Fanook”? What are you, a fucking mobster now? You watch two seasons of Sopranos and suddenly ‘Fanook’ creeps its way into your vocabulary?’
'… nyeh, ya fuckin' mook.'
'Quit breakin' my bawls hee, I'm tellin' a stawry.'
'I hate you.'
'… go on'
'So anyway, I'm sitting there, minding my own business – in fact I think I was actually in the process of chatting this girl up at this stage - and this lad just waltzes over.'
'A gay guy.'
'Yeah, a gay guy. He just waltzes right on up, sits down opposite me with his little cosmo or whatever-'
'He was not drinking a cosmopolitan.'
'OK, his little cocktail or whatever.'
'He was drinking wine, I saw him… Have you actually forgotten I was there, like no more than 10 feet away?'
'So anyway, he comes over, me still talking to this girl, this really intelligent girl, like really “intelligent”, if you know what I mean.’
'And I had him pegged as soon as he came within 5 feet of me, waltzing over, sliding into the booth, giving me a little wink when I look over to see who's sitting down at our table.'
'I think he was Geraldine's friend.'
'The girl you were talking to.'
'Oh her. No no no, I'm telling you, I had him pegged. This lad was out for one thing and one thing only, and he somehow decided I was the one he was gonna get it from. Me. As in me, this guy, the guy who’s about 2 words away from shoving his tongue down this girl’s throat.’
'So obviously I pay him no heed. I have a task at hand and there's no way I'm letting some little finocchio-'
'There's no way I'm letting some guy distract me from a task like that. So I turn back to this girl – the “intelligent” one – and I keep putting in the spade work, telling her how much this new project means to me – I told her I was making a film – and how the script is-'
'Wait what? A film?'
'She said she was an actress, it was the perfect in.'
'Yeah, absolutely perfect. She says she's an actress, I say “oh wow acting, I'm so bad at acting. I'm just such a terrible liar” which is great because it's both self-deprecating and endearing, and also a little insulting to her, throws her off guard, you know? So then I start on about this film I'm making, this independent piece, this amateur only, partially scripted, improvised shooting, unlikely romance, whatever. Something very indie, very hip. The important part though is not to link the two, never even get close to suggesting she be in it, that she'd be “perfect for the role,” any of that shite. That's the key. Absolutely essential.'
'… I suppose you want me to ask wh-?'
'I'm glad you asked. You see if you start going straight in telling her she's going to be your leading lady, she'll be onto you in a second. She'll think it's all some kind of ploy to get her into bed.”
“But it is some kind of ploy to get her into bed.’
'I know, I know, but you don't want her to know that. So what you do is you pretend like the possibility of her working on your film doesn’t even occur to you, like the idea is so out there it may as well be a… a… I don’t know, but something fucking bizarre anyway. And she’s obviously not going to come right out and say it, that she could act in your film, because she doesn’t want to come across as desperate, or clingy or whatever.’
'So you just sit there in silence?'
'Well, I mean, in a certain sense, yeah. I mean you keep talking about the film and about her acting, back and forth, back and forth, but you never allow the two subjects to come together, you see? You keep your silence on that possibility, I suppose. And so what happens then is she starts to think why you haven't thought of the idea, like even in passing, like even just to make a joke out of it in a kind of a “don't be ridiculous, we barely know eachother” kind of way. So she starts to play up, starts to try to get you to notice how pretty she is, how outgoing she is, how nice she is.'
'And how does this-'
'Wait, I'm not finished – how great she looks in this dress, how amazing her hair looks when she does it up like that, how wide her eyes can go, how much she can pout her lips, how that bra makes her look even more “intelligent”, how she can laugh the loudest, smile the widest, all that shite, basically showing you just how great she is. But what she's really doing, and what she doesn't even really realise she's doing, is trying to convince herself that she's just as great as she thinks she is. And that’s the real key here. Once she starts down that road there’s no turning back.’
'So, you're basically just chipping away at her self-esteem?'
'…And this makes her want to sleep with you?'
'9 times out of ten, yes.'
'Jesus, do I have to spell it out?'
'Christ. Okay, here we go: girl feels hurt because boy doesn't acknowledge her. Girl tries to prove herself by prompting boy to offer up said acknowledgement. When it never comes, girl simply tries harder. Now, what happens when girl's image of herself becomes dependant on the approval of boy who wants to ride her into the sunset?'
'So you scored her?'
'Well that's what I was trying to say. Ten more minutes and she would've been mine. But then this guy comes over.'
'The gay guy.'
‘Yes, the gay guy, Jesus. He comes over and ruins everything, waltzing on up, limp wrists and everything… This guy was a fucking charicature, I’m telling you.’
'Well, what did he do?'
'What do you mean, “what did he do”? He didn't have to do anything. He just came over and sat down, winked at me, and then stared me out of it.'
'He just stared at you?'
'Yeah, for like 5 fucking minutes. Can you believe that? Do you know how long that is for someone to just look at you, non-stop, and not say one single solitary word? Christ, I was ready to stand up and deck the guy.'
'I mean I wouldn't obviously, I don't-'
'Wait, so, he just came over, sat down, and looked at you?”
'Yeah, like I said. He came over, winked – don't forget the wink – and then just stared me out of it, for like 5-10 minutes… Felt like hours if you ask me.'
'And that's why you didn't score this girl?'
‘Yes, that’s why. Jesus, it’s like talking to a brick wall with you sometimes.’
'I mean, how was I supposed to operate under that kind of scrutiny?'
'Yeah, this guy, he comes over to me and just starts eyeing me up, one thing on his mind. I mean he had no fucking shame, you know? Just waltzed on up, didn't even say anything, just assumes I'm looking for the same thing. Makes me fucking sick just thinking about it.'
'I think you're being a little too har-'
'I mean he didn't even have a plan. No strategy whatsoever. Just waltzed on up.'
'I mean, you've got to have a plan.'