I’m sure you’ve had this happen, multiple times: You’re on a ponderous date with Mr. Tedium and, lo and behold, right across from you appears Mr. Moreright. You don’t want to be rude, but “oh, my gawd,” this new guy is just dreamy. The date you’re on is heading nowhere. Heck, you’ll probably feign a migraine triggered by his unbuckling of your bra. How does a girl escape this monotony, and enter the wild domain of this new beast?
Make sure the server keeps refilling your date’s water glass. In fact, go ahead and dump some of yours in there. Eventually (unless he has a basketball bladder, like I have), he’ll excuse himself to the little boys’ room. That’s when you make your move.
Tell the target man that the guy you’re with is just a friend, from your perspective. You’ve been on a few dates, but there’s no chemistry. Make your intentions clear. Tell the new guy you want him inside you … now! OK, no, don’t say that. Sorry. Tell Mr. Moreright that you’re intrigued and would love to have a drink with him and see where it leads.
By now, the fellow about to get a boot to the butt should be returning from the bathroom and, fuck, if you didn’t forget to slide your number to Mr. Moreright. No problem. You need another distraction. Ask your date to get a tiny glass of club soda from the bar because you spilled some Pinot. As he scurries away per your wishes, tell Mr. Moreright to grab his celly, and start a-typing. Tell him your name, too, so he doesn’t have you in his contacts as “Oddchick Intome.”
When your date returns with the club soda, he may suspect some foul play, especially if Mr. Moreright is toe fucking you under the table. (Don’t do that. Not sanitary.) Brush it off like Taylor Swift, and power through your date. If you’re mean to your date, it will set off all sorts of alarms for Mr. Moreright, and he’ll delete your contact before your lovely tush leaves the scene. Then again, if you have a lovely tush, Mr. Moreright won’t sense any infraction on your part. Heck you could stab your date with a cocktail fork. He won’t care. (OK, don’t do that, either. Cocktail sauce burns.)
If Mr. Moreright is sufficiently interested, he’ll text you before you conclude your date. It will most likely be something innocuous, like “Hi.” It’s a start. Don’t check your phone. You know it’s there. Wait until Mr. Dumpster-Bound drops you off, then start texting your evil intentions.
Now, you need to be aware of one slight dilemma: Once you’re on a date with Mr. Moreright, he’s going to be on to your shit, and he will catch you if you play him like the last. Try to keep your eyes and digits to yourself. At least wait a few dates to see if the new guy is a decent kisser who lives by the phrase “She comes first.”
It is also entirely likely that you will run into the man you discarded while on a date with Mr. Moreright. Awkward. There’s really nothing you can say. Just shrug, giving the impression that stomping on his heart was an accident. He won’t forgive you. Meh, so what?