You women certainly can’t help yourselves around popular men, can you? In the past ten years or so—naturally, the years right after I stopped DJing—club disc jockeys have become pseudo celebrities. It doesn’t matter if most are hipster geeks with awful fashion sense and the highly-overrated skill of knowing what people like. It doesn’t matter if they work until 5am, and are rarely seen without obnoxiously large headphones and iPads. Ladies are drawn to crowd leaders.
All right then.
You’re gyrating with your girlies on the dance floor and your eyes meet DJ Diddle Poo. How do you land such a man? First, what not to do.
- Don’t walk up to the booth and try to get his attention while he’s wicky-wicky-wickying on the ones and twos.
- Don’t buy him a drink. His are free.
- Don’t request a song he already played.
- If you must request a song, don’t say, “You know, that song that goes da dah dum dah da.”
- Don’t ask if he does Bar Mitzvahs.
- Don’t fist pump.
The easiest way to hook him is to position yourself on the dance floor at twelve o’clock from his perspective. Face away from him, arch your back, glance back when the mix completes, wink, and give him a thumbs up. Then, let him stew a bit. Avoid club creeps as he’ll be watching you. Hang around some less-attractive women. (Makes you look better.) Repeat these steps three times, then grab pen and paper from the bartender. Write “Text me” then your name, number, and, if you must, go ahead and dot that “i” with a heart, or add a smiley face. You get a pass this one time.
Stand by the booth. Don’t do anything to get his attention, like whistle, throw things, or jumping jacks. That’s annoying. He knows you’re there. Wait for it. When he finally arrives, say, “Hi, I have a request. Thank you.” Hand him the slip, turn, and walk away while giving him a big smile and finger-wiggle wave.
Next, I suggest you begin pounding Red Bull starting around 1am. It will likely be 2:30 or 3:00 before he’s thumping your love bumper. You don’t want to be yawning. He’s used to this. You’re not, unless you’re a bartender or cocktail server, in which case haven’t you learned not to shit where you eat?
There are definitely two sharp edges on the dating-a-DJ sword. He’s going to be tied up most weekend nights, which will be inconvenient when you’re ovulating, and very convenient when he’s on your last nerve. Also, he’s going to host a nightly parade of groupie sluts. Some will be hotter or more desperate than you, but few will have your stamina and smarts to begin coochie blocking near the end of his set.
Enjoy your modern day orchestra conductor, and teach him how to do those fancy two-finger tricks on your button.