Isn’t it more fun to be surrounded by smiling people? People who like you. People who, occasionally, will grab the bartender’s attention and say, “Hey, Joe, I’d like to buy my friend here a tall libation.” Consider your compliments to be wise investments. Nobody says they need to be truthful. In fact, sometimes the truth hurts, which results in a beverage bath instead of a buzz.
So, be nice and lie.
“Hello, there. My, what lovely eyes you have.”
“Say, do your parents work at Snapple?”
“What? No. Why?”
“Because it looks to me like you’re made from the best things on earth.”
OK, don’t overdo it.
“Wow, I love your necklace.”
“You’re staring at my tits.”
“Oh. Well, now that you’ve pointed them out, might I add that your breasts are outstanding, and they go well with your necklace.”
More subtlety, perhaps.
“What do you for a living?”
“I have two children under five.”
“Ah, you supervise drunk hobbits.”
“Sometimes it seems that way.”
“Well, that’s the most important job on the planet. You deserve a raise.”
“That’s what I keep telling my ex.”
“Doesn’t it make you want to fuck the daylights out of some stranger you met at a bar … to get back him?”
That’s a lottery statement: big payoff, but slim chances.
“Gosh, how do you keep your skin so soft and lovely?”
“How do you get those hard-to-reach places?”
“I’m simply offering my services for the sake of your skin. I detect a bit of dryness along your spine.”
“Actually I squirt lotion on the wall of the shower and rub my back on it like a cat in heat.”
“You must spend half your day here at the gym, to maintain a body like that.”
“I’m here often, yes.”
“Have you considered becoming a personal trainer?”
“How many pushups can you do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you do yoga?”
“Twilight or True Blood?”
“Do you want to make-out?”
Fine. I need more practice.
P.S. You’re the smartest, sexiest, and kindest reader I have. Just sayin’.