A narrative monologue I came up with recently. The ending is a little bit weak and rushed, but I can always rewrite that bit!
At the start of this year I suddenly realised that I'd be single for over a year and I was feeling a little down. I mean, it wasn't as though I was horrifically ugly or anything, but my conversational techniques with women weren't quite as slick as they could be. If only I could come up with some smooth lines then I was pretty sure that I could get any woman in the sack. I've learnt that a woman needs her mind to be turned on before her body. A woman likes a man who knows how to use his tongue.
The problem with my chat up lines were that they often turned into chat down lines. By this, I don't mean that I began to belittle the girl, but I'm what is known as a breast man. I like girls who are more likely to survive a car crash than the hordes of flat chested crash victims that we all sympathise with. So, my chat up lines end up being chat down lines as I have this terrible habit of talking to girls chests. I've learnt that they don't like this, although some women over the age of 35 are quite glad of any attention their body gets. I currently consider myself young-ish, so the over 35's can wait. For now. Until I'm in my 60's as it will then mean I will be going out with a girl who was born around the time I was 30. It's all perfectly legal and there's nothing the authorities can do.
So I knew that I needed a good chat up line; I also knew that I'd need to practise it on girls with flat chests before I tried it on a girl with real big funbags. The first idea was to go to the local high school and try some lines out on the pre-pubescent girls there. Then I remembered that I wasn't allowed within a mile of any school in the country. Not since the incident. Even now, all these weeks later, I can still see the mother of that poor child howling at me to stop reversing, but I was too drunk to listen. So, trawling the pubs and clubs it would have to be.
A chat up line which shows you mean business is not an easy thing to pull off. A friend of mine, who once met a female bodybuilder off the net, told me that women like you to be confident. I thought about this for a while and came up with the following chat up line:
"Imagine contracting herpes,
Imagine riding me all night long,
Imagine losing a limb,
(slight pause to build her into an aroused frenzy)
Now we all know which one you want, baby, so lets get on with it"
I memorised it and then set off into the big bad world of social interaction.
It was after the 12th slap to the face that I began to think that maybe there was something wrong with my new technique. Admittedly, I had decided to try it out on a few girls in wheelchairs and they didn't really appreciate the line about losing a limb. Undeterred and still sexually unsatisfied, I decided a little more work was needed and I came up with the following chat up line:
"Imagine contracting herpes,
Imagine riding me all night long,
Imagine getting a smear test
(slight pause to build her into an aroused frenzy)
Now we all know which one you want, sexy, so lets get on with it"
I memorised this and again set off into the big bad world of social interaction.
It only took 7 slaps to the face this time before I realised that this new conversation opener wasn't as smooth as I wanted it to be. Admittedly, gatecrashing a meeting for cervical cancer victims and using this line did mean that the girls were, again, not going to appreciate it, but I was excited about the concept of the line and could see it just needed a little more work to perfect it. At the very least, I was learning what not to do.
I worked for a whole quarter of an hour on what I considered to be a masterpiece of chatup lineage. I took it to my friend who had met the female bodybuilder off the internet and he was quite impressed, but he suggested a few changes. I ended up with the following opener which was slightly subtle compared to the earlier ones:
"Imagine contracting herpes,
Imagine going on a date with me,
Imagine never having sex again
(slight pause to build her into an aroused frenzy)
Now we all know which one you want, sweetcheeks, so lets get on with it"
I excitedly memorised this and once more set off to what was obviously my destiny.
I arrived in a fairly busy bar and immediately spied a victim, I mean girl. She was quite pretty and flat chested. I strutted over in the only manner a confident man can. Confidently. I delivered my line and unfortunately it turned out that she had more than the 2 brain cells I was looking for as she replied with:
"So I either get herpes or I go on a date with you which will no doubt end up with me contracting herpes of some kind. Then there's the third option…Now, if I accept the first two I'm going to end up with herpes, so no one will wanna have sex with me anyway. So if I choose the third one then it ensures a healthy sex-free life. Well I think I'm going to have to choose never having sex again".
I was shocked to the core at hearing this and could only mumble "Well…um….urrrrr…I guess that's your decision". The girl then departed.
It was at that point I decided to grow a beard, buy an axe and become a serial killer.
