While I must admit that any of you who actually have the balls to try and pick up a chick while “riding the rocket” are rather brave, I’m begging you, if you feel the need to hit on a girl in the middle of the day, inside a giant metal tube underground, in front of tons of random strangers, please don’t let it go down like this:
Just like everyday, I get on the subway, sit down, headphones in, and thank the lord that I now have a 15-minute block of time in which I get to do absolutely nothing. You get on at St. Clair, sit diagonally across from me, and begin to stare obviously in my direction. Rule #1 of attracting a female: try not to make her extremely uncomfortable. I do the bitchy eyebrow raise, start playing with my iPod, and basically do everything in my power to avoid eye contact and seem as unapproachable as possible.
Seriously though, why are you still staring at me? You aren’t even trying to hide it, which makes it even more creepy and irritating. Part of me wants to turn to you and ask you to divert your pervy eyes, but that would involve speaking to you and acknowledging your existence – two things I have absolutely no interest in doing.
You know that momentary feeling of rage you get when your headphones catch on something and get ripped from your ears? Well, that feeling is magnified when the thing that rips them from your ears is the same guy who has been creepily staring at you for the past 5 minutes. Seriously bro, next time go for the shoulder-tap.
“Sorry, I was just wondering if you know of anything cool going on in the city this weekend? I’m trying to find some new things to do and you seem like a cool person.” Well, I’m flattered, but I’m not a tour guide. First of all, it’s a Tuesday afternoon. Not only am I still recovering from the weekend that just passed, but also I have so much to do during the week that Saturday seems like a far off fantasy. Secondly, even if I made my super awesome weekend plans this far in advance, I probably (read: absolutely) would not tell you about them in the off (read: probable) chance that you show up.
“Not that I can think of, sorry.” I tell you as I begin putting my headphones back in. “Oh, you don’t get out much, eh?” Listen, Cupcake, I know that this line was supposed to be your way of being funny and flirty, but when you say it to a student who is currently getting their ass kicked by a semester from hell, it’s anything but.
I press play on my iPod and pretend like I didn’t hear that last comment. We arrive at College Station. “Well, if you think of anything, anything at all, let me know.” You say as you casually toss your business card into my lap. Oh my God, do not ever do this. I’m so tempted to write “Free Blowjobs” on the back of your card and leave it sitting casually in the seat as I get off at Dundas.
My advice to you guys who feel the need to pick up a girl on the subway: don’t. Go home and write her a ‘Missed Connection.’