Well Hello There, Ladies

(Inspired by a recent night out at Casa del Mar in Santa Monica)

There's nothing quite like watching older, balding, unfashionably dressed, shamelessly self-absorbed men try to pick up young, pretty women in bars. It's a terribly amusing and utterly depressing spectacle. It always seems to play out in the same general way:

1. A pair of men wearing very unhip loafers and tweed sportcoats spot shiny lip gloss, long hair, low-rise jeans, and bare midriffs across the room. Hypnotized by these trappings of youthful womanhood, the men approach, swaggering a bit. Each man is clutching a scotch on the rocks in one hand while resting the other hand in his pants pocket.
2. The targeted women, also a pair, see the men walking toward them and exchange looks of panic. But there isn't time to bolt as the men, smirking in an "I'm devilishly handsome and cocksure, aren't I?" type of way, steadily advance.
3. "Well hello there, ladies!" begins the more outgoing and self-confident of the two men upon their arrival at the women's place at the bar.
4. "Hi!" the women chirp brightly, forcing wide smiles. (Those who don't believe that American women are socialized to be friendly and warm and polite, no matter how alarming or distasteful the social situation, should go out drinking more often.)
5. Outgoing Man A introduces himself and his grinning, somewhat self-concious buddy, Man B. Man A prattles on about what he and Man B are doing in this part of town, where they were earlier in the night, and where they plan to go later. Both men absentmindedly swirl the ice in their glasses while occasionally stealing quick glances at the women's breasts. The men think their glances are surreptitious. They aren't.
6. The women, who hadn't planned on getting to know a couple of lecherous old men tonight, each fold their arms over their chests, cross one leg over the other, and lean back a bit, smiling deliberately all the while. Their self-protective body language is apparent to other women in the bar. It goes utterly undetected by Man A and Man B.
7. The men continue talking, smirking, swirling (ice), and stealing (glances). Man A feels particularly satisfied with himself because he is clearly taking the lead in the conversation. He also has a bit more hair than his partner.
8. The women, fake smiles firmly affixed to their faces, nod at what the men say. They infrequently chime in or answer direct questions. Every now and then one woman shoots a look at the other. Sometimes the look says, "Jennifer, what should we do right now?" Sometimes it says, "Kyra, I can't take another minute of this. Think of an escape plan." Often it says, "I told you we shouldn't have come here."
9. The men, encouraged by the women's smiles and oblivious to their furtive nonverbal communiqués, turn to locate a couple of empty barstools. They grab the stools and drag them over, so that they can sit with the women. The women use this brief respite to whisper quickly to one another. They are devising a game plan, a course of action. By this time, other bar patrons are watching this little comedy with bemusement and a bit of sympathy for the women. (Although some of the female patrons, envious of how cute the women look in their teeny designer jeans and satiny sleeveless tops, are enjoying watching the cuties squirm.)
10. The men rejoin the women, sitting across from them in a tight huddle. The women, still smiling, begin drinking faster. Under normal circumstances, they prefer to leisurely sip their Bellinis and Mojitos and Margaritas, but when the situation is dire, gulping is key. The faster the drinks are drunk, the quicker the bill will arrive, and the sooner the women can get the hell out of there.
11. The men, delighted to be seated with such glimmering eye candy and emboldened by their success thus far, test the limits of their charm. Man A places his hand on the corner of one of the women's bar stools as he talks. In response, the woman deftly retracts from his hand and repositions herself at an angle on the stool. She smiles tightly, with closed lips. Man B moves in a bit closer to the second woman. She, in turn, brings a hand up to her neck, leans back a bit farther, and quickly surveys the room for younger, cooler, hipper men who might come to her and her friend's rescue. She succeeds in locking eyes with the apparent leader of a small pack of twenty-something men who are hanging out several feet away. Her eyes are pleading, and they offer a bit of desperate flirtation. The leader and his pack approach, tentatively. The woman's eyes scream, "Thank you! Thank you! You won't regret this! Don't wuss out!" The leader and his pack get within speaking distance of the women, quickly assess the situation (specifically the unbridled enthusiasm and tenacity of the older men), and...retreat. As the pack slinks away, the leader offers the women a little shoulder shrug of apology. It's too much work for the twenty-somethings. They're out to have fun. They're not out to wrestle a couple of cute women away from men who look like their own fathers.
12. Disappointed, but not totally defeated, the women pretend to listen to the men talk about their very important high-paying jobs, all the while keeping an eye out for the cocktail waitress. Eureka! They've found her. One of the women throws her hand up into the air and waves the waitress over.
13. "We're ready for the check," cry the women, in unison, as soon as the waitress is in earshot. In their excitement, they've interrupted the men.
14. Man A, thinking it makes him seem very generous and in-control and take-charge, insists on paying the tab. Man B hastens to pull a few bills out of his wallet as well, not wanting to be shown up by his buddy.
15. The women flash big, sparkly smiles, tilt their heads a bit to one side, and say to the men, "Thank you so much; that wasn't necessary." Except that it was necessary, because the women have endured these two irksome, slightly creepy, self-centered, horribly uncool men for the better part of an hour. Their drinks most certainly should be paid for. Damn straight, is what they're thinking.
16. As the men settle the tab, the women consider this wasted outing. Who knows what other (younger, cuter, cooler, better dressed, more thoughtful, sexier) men might have happened by their barstools and struck up conversation had Man A and Man B not shown up. The women also consider the dozen or so people nearby who have been watching all along and snickering at the sight of the two old men hitting on the two young women. The women grimace; one flips her hair back in frustration, the other sighs.
17. The waitress has been paid and tipped. The women stand, lifting their handbags from their laps and placing them on their shoulders. They're not happy they have to leave. They love this bar, but what choice do they have? They smooth their jeans, adjust their tops, and prepare for their big exit. "It's been nice chatting with you guys," one of them says, producing yet another megawatt smile. She's already forgotten their names. "Have a great night." She sticks out her hand for a courteous shake. Her friend smiles too, and does the same.
18. Man A is crestfallen. He stands. "What? Leaving so soon?" he asks, genuinely disappointed...even more so when he steals one more lingering look at her breasts. He then takes one of the women's outstretched hands and kisses it. Man B isn't quite so brazen; he shakes the other woman's hand. "It's always a pleasure meeting such beautiful girls," he says, winking.
19. "Where are you off to next?" Man A asks the women as they turn to go, one digging around in her handbag for her cell phone. "You know, we're incredibly tired. We really need to head home," says one. It's eleven at night. "But thanks so much for the drinks!" shouts the other, as the two turn on their heels and walk as fast as they can toward the door of the bar. The woman who has got her cell phone out dials her sister. "Listen, meet us at Shutters," she says into the teeny little receiver. "We'll be there in five minutes."
20. The men, a little disoriented by their dates' rapid departure, sit back down and get quiet for a moment. Finally, Man A asks Man B, "You want another scotch on the rocks?"