The Wet Spot: How to be a successful wingman

The Wet Spot: How to be a successful wingman

Have you ever heard of Erik von Markovik? No? Shocker.

Wait, maybe you'll know him if I use his other name, Mystery. That's what I thought.

In case you still don't know what I'm talking about, Mystery is a guy who has made a career out of picking up chicks. And what does Mystery say is the most important element when picking up women? A good wingman.
In order to be a good wingman, you have to possess many traits. You have to know how to start a conversation with a group of women ("opening a set" as Mystery calls it), direct attention to your friend without being obvious and transition yourself out of the spotlight, allowing your friend to move in for the finish.

Now, I'm a pretty fancy gentleman, so I don't have much use for a wingman of my own (also, because my girlfriend gets mad when I ask her to play wingman for me. Way to go, team player). But that's not to say I can't play wingman for my friends.

This past Friday night, I was out at Sneaky Pete's in downtown with a friend of mine (let's call him Tony Danza, in order to protect his true identity), and decided that it was time for me to channel my inner-Mystery and find him a classy lady of his own. Here's what went down.

8:05 p.m. - Tony Danza and I are sitting at a table, drinking Coors Light (the official beer of shady dudes alone at the bar). The shot girl approaches us and asks if we want to do Jager shots. Tony looks like he needs some extra courage, so I reluctantly agree. Once we do the shots, he informs me that he has no cash and asks if I can pay. I hate Tony Danza.

8:35 p.m. - After a second round of shots I force Tony to wander out to the patio in search of sets. We find one and I decide to open it up with the "do you know who you look like?" routine. I approach one of the two blondes in the group and open my set.

"Do you know who you look like? Brooke Hogan."

(Author's note: I seriously need to expand my TV preferences outside of VH1.)

I thought this was a sure-fire win, but Brooke wasn't impressed.

"What? Gross. She looks like shemale," she says. A tough start, but I'm not done.

"Yeah, totally. Anyways, do you think my friend looks like Tony Danza?" I counter.

She looks him up and down for a second.

"Who is Tony Danza?"

Time to abort.

9:08 p.m. - We move to a corner table on the patio where I spot two girls standing at the bar looking right at us (and by "looking right at us," I mean, "standing in our same general area). I grab my two empty Coors Light bottles off the table and insist that Tony hand me his as well.

We approach the targets and I immediately jump into the always-popular "watch me do something awesome" routine. In this case I say hello and begin trying to juggle the empty beer bottles. Unfortunately, the fact that I'm fairly toasted at this point, combined with the fact that I don't know how to juggle results in me dropping the bottles, smashing them on the ground. Undeterred, I go for the closing line of the routine where I point at T. Danza and say to the ladies, "That's right; he taught me everything he knows."

Moments later the bouncer warns me to, "stop doing stupid shit or you're out of here." We press on.

9:52 p.m. - The bar is playing the song "Hey Leonardo" by Blessid Union of Souls. That was a good song. I wonder where those guys are now?

11:47 p.m. - I'm basically at the point that I'm just mumbling noises, which is never good for a wingman to do. Wingmen need to appear in control, and I clearly do not. I'm ready to go grab Danza and apologize, as I feel I have failed him as a wingman. Then, out of the corner I've my eye, I spot him at the bar talking with the waitress from earlier. They're talking and laughing, and clearly pointing in my direction. That's when I realize that I've done my job.

This is a risky strategy, but I managed to pull off the "get super drunk and look like an a-hole so that your friend can pick on you to pick up women" routine. I am an amazing man.
Unfortunately, at that moment I feel a rush come over me and I race to the nearest trash can to puke. I make it in time, but the crack security team at Sneaky Pete's has clearly had enough of me and escort me outside.

A few minutes later, Tony D. comes outside and finds me. He informs me that he did not score a phone number from the waitress because he had to leave the bar so soon, but he is confident that if we visit again this weekend that he can totally close the deal. Looks like this wingman is flying in for round two.

Consider yourselves warned, Sneaky Pete's.  

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