Whoever created Foosball could not have envisioned the debauchery that their cute soccer-simulation game created for my friend Margaret. One night, Margaret went home with a guy she met through me (Joe), truly wanting to play Foosball. He had the table, and that’s all it took for her to head home with him.
But the journey took bad turn after bad turn. The first warning sign occurred when they crossed a bridge to get to his place. Manhattanites tend to freak out when they traverse an unexpected bridge or tunnel. Bridge-crossing meant that Margaret was in for a long trip the next morning, for Joe lived in Queens.
If only this was the worst event of the night. At least Foosball awaited, aside from Queens. However, the game was too loud, and Joe's roommate broke up the fun before it even started. But Margaret, stuck in Queens, had no choice but to retire to bed with Joe.
Just being in Queens had already turned Margaret off. But things got worse when Joe made his move after spotting Margaret’s birth control patch:
“Wow, you’re like a gift with the batteries already included.”
Margaret was completely turned off after Joes’s quip and she attempted to turn the other way to fall asleep. But sleeping would not be very easy in this bed. Joe, undeterred by Margaret’s rejection, decided to go ahead and masturbate with Margaret lying right there next to him.
Did Joe think that Margaret might like what he was doing? In my book, penises are extremely unattractive appendages—and I’ve heard the same opinion of the phallus from women. I hope Joe didn’t think he was turning Margaret on, but he must have—he could have gone to the bathroom at least.
In retrospect it’s interesting that an innocent invitation to play Foosball turned into Margaret being stranded outside of Manhattan, while being an accessory to a guy pleasing himself. No doubt my friend uses “Foosball” as a ruse to lure the ladies back to his lair.
Most guys hone their skills for those last moments in the bar when everyone is deciding where to stay for the night. They rely on a tried, true and tested gimmick to take a girl home.
My gimmicks are lame:
- Let’s go back to my apartment and cuddle and watch Nick at Nite
- Let’s watch Halloween and I’ll explain why it’s one of the best horror movies ever made
- Let’s go back to my place and listen to music and analyze how beautiful it is
- I promise I won’t let my cats in the bedroom
- OK, I need soup and chicken tenders. After that you can come back with me to my place.
Sadly, because I’m not sure if the girl expects to makeout or actually partake in my gimmick, the gimmick is the headline event. Maybe there’s a little making out, but it’s secondary to whatever gimmick I’ve promised.
The crazy thing is the few times I’ve cut to the chase, it’s worked out—it’s like 100% effective. By "cutting to the chase" I mean:
“Wanna come back to my apartment and makeout?”
It’s a shame that we feel like we have to hide behind these gimmicks to get a woman to come home with us. There are two kinds of girls out there:
Girls that think "let's play foosball" means "let's play foosball" (like Margaret)
Girls that think "let's play foosball" means "I'm trying to get into your pants"
...I promise "let's play foosball" rarely means lying next to a guy pleasuring himself.
And if any of you girls want me to come back to your apartment, I’m easy: I just need fast internet, a cool pet, lots of food, anything Ravens/Orioles/Maryland Terps/UD Fightin’ Bluehens, a HD flatscreen...or really good, ripe tomatoes with salt and pepper grinders.
What gimmicks have guys used to get you to go home with them? Do you ever go home with a guy because he’s got a great gimmick? And have you ever left a guy’s place when his gimmick fell through, or do you just grin and bear it? What’s the best way to get a woman to come home with me at the end of the night?
Hey! Follow me on Twitter if you'd like: twitter.com/richravens
