The folks over at FamousDC made yet another DC blogger "famous" today and for once I was enticed into following the provided link. I'm glad I did. The person not glad I read it - the blog's author FloridaGirlinDC. Here's why.
First of all, her blog name flunks the originality test so badly that it has now been assigned to the digital media shortbus for eternity. She used the same blog naming equation everybody else out there uses:
where you're from + gender specific noun + "in" + where you live now = shitty blog title.
LAguyinNY, MichiganManinMiami, TexasGalinSeattle and million more that we're all very tired of seeing. We get it - you're really proud of where you're from... you just don't choose to live there. And you probably don't live there for reasons you're not proud of like high illiteracy and the popularity of "TruckNutz."
I'm sure in her mind she's a pioneer in DC society being one of the few citizens who can bring a Florida perspective to table. For her sake I hope she isn't going to Taste of the South this weekend where every third person will either be actually from Florida or from Alabama and claiming to be from Florida. No doubt it - we've got lots of Florida in our DC.
I digress. But then again, who doesn't?
The premise of the blog post is simple. She saw an okay looking guy get a business card from a "really pretty" girl on the metro. She breaks it down into five parts and expresses genuine awe at the guy's work. Too bad she read way too much into it and failed to realize that in second place behind "f*ck off creep" on the list of "Clues She's Not Interested" resides the business card brushoff. Let's go to the tape, shall we?
One thing everyone should know now about DC is that it's full of men who can not and will not make a move on a woman. Go out tonight and watch as tables full of single girls mingle without interruption as loads of dudes watch from afar. In any other city they'd be swarmed before they even got through the door. In DC - watched from afar like animals on the African plains.
I'm ugly. I've never been good looking. I didn't have a "heyday" when I was skinny, had high cheekbones and some hint of a chin. I've looked like Bob Saget my entire life. This made it hard to get a date for a very long time. It wasn't until I moved to DC and found out that being the only guy willing to walk up and introduce myself to a woman had its advantages. I figured out the golden rule of female access - you can't get a "yes" if you don't ask. And - nobody ever got laid standing across the bar trying to will a girl into bed by staring holes through her.
However... I don't think that what I describe above is the entire story.
The guy in this story has two obvious things going for him - he's not hideous and he's got a schtick worked out. He knows that a decent looking guy who can talk will get laid way more often than a hot guy who waits around for chicks to fall over naked with their legs in the air.
The little jazz club bit is probably something he pops on girls on that train at that time headed in that direction five days a week. He's got the odds worked out already - most girls of a certain age, race and socioeconomic class exit the metro at one of the stops near the jazz place he's talking about. It's a popular area for young people - I think we all know that. He's got a better than even chance of throwing out one of three stops and being right or one stop off with his guess. Either way, he'll find out if he can start laying down his jazz club schtick after asking only one innocent question.
The girl in the story reacts initially like most of us would on the metro when someone you don't know starts talking to you - disgust. Talking to strangers on the metro is the same as urinating on the metro - never necessary, always awkward and severely frowned upon.
His persistence pushes her to interact with him in a limited, guarded fashion. It is not his subject matter and apparent recollection of past events that causes her to engage him as the chick from Florida who now lives in DC would have you believe. She's now trying to appease the man for fear that ignoring him may just encourage him to get more aggressive. Let's be honest - all she knows is that this crazy son-of-a-bitch is okay with breaking a cardinal rule of the metro system(talking to strangers), his next move might be to strip naked and do the floppy chicken on her new Nine West wedges. She's doing whatever her instinct tells her will keep him out of the crazy zone until she can get off the train.
She's forced to banter back and forth with this guy for a bit hoping it stays tame. You've all seen this happen on a train before and you know how bad you feel for the victim. You're also thankful that this poor soul is jumping on the grenade for the entire car. If they don't appease the crazy person, then everyone is screwed. What this woman did was heroic - at least it was for the people who saw the situation and knew what was going on. Ms. DC via Florida saw an entirely different movie than the rest of the audience sitting in the same theater, unfortunately.
The final act of appeasement as she chatted Don Juan off the ledge was the giving of the business card. If you're a guy over 21 in DC and been around bars and women, you've probably been stiffed with the business card before. Most of the time you never hear from them again because that's what they intended to happen when they gave you that card and not their cell phone number.
What do most business cards have on them? Name, work address, work email, work fax and work phone. Your most appropriate option here is to email her. You're not a client and you admit as much in your email the next day - she can ignore you without recourse.
Are you going to call her office number whiles she's working to ask her out? Not if you're within driving distance of normal.
Fax? Novel idea, but not a good idea. Too easy to turn into the next viral shaming of an undersexed guy trying too hard. You don't want Gawker ending your shot with that chick and every other woman in Western civilization.
Bottom line - nothing says "let's get together soon" like a woman giving you a bunch of bad options for getting a hold of her instead of the best one.
The cell phone number remains the industry's gold standard for showing interest.
Lady Florida living in DC didn't see what she thought she saw because she didn't know what she was looking at. It's as simple as that.
Several other notes about her and her blog...
1. She uses the world "chill" and she wasn't referring to what you should do to wine before serving. She doesn't look 13, but talks as if she is.
2. Page has a shitfit loading on older browsers (pretty much every office in DC) because of the palm tree background. You're from Florida - WE GET IT.
3. She's pretty cute - why the hell is she living vicariously through strangers on the metro?
4. That last one wasn't fair. She was inspired by a random act - good for her.
5. She signs off on her "about me" with the most annoying closing ever - "cheers." How many jackasses do you have to see use that closing before you realize that it's literally the calling card for assholes? And "ciao" is not a suitable replacement either.
6. That's all I have. Thanks for playing.
War (totally awesome closing)