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Scoping The Upper Echelon

January 23, 2010

Last week Coworker E shamed me for not being more adventurous with my date-scoping tactics. She’s younger than me, and married, so girl-law dictates that I must abide by her recommendations. I was whining about the barrage of losers I’ve dated in the last few years and how I’m pretty sure that all employed, good-looking, sane men are married or gay or live in different countries. E was all, Well, where are you going to meet these boys? And I was all, Well… shut up. Because she’s right. I always take the easy route: The $25 open bar at a dive bar. The house party with boys I already know are useless. The Ed Hardy-filled bars in Wrigleyville.

Those are my standard Friday & Saturday options. I just wait for someone to suggest some bar and then away I go, to drink some vodka-sodas and chat up some sub-par dudes. Well no wonder I date losers. I’m asking for it.

So then E lets me in on her secret, which I will share and she may yell at me. Back before she met her amazing husband, whose eligibility is beyond reproach, she used to cruise for the type of men she wanted to date at fund-raising events and law school mixers. The best part, really, is this: She had literally no business attending these events. They weren’t charities she was involved with. She didn’t go to law school or have friends that did. She just found these events, got herself on the list, and showed up.

Amazing. The guts that it takes to do something like this… simply amazing. One caveat: Always have a back story. Nothing worse than getting called-out on your scam. Keep it simple, believable and brush-off-able. Something like, Oh I’m supposed to be meeting my cousin but he’s running late. It’s perfect, you are now the damsel in distress with no one to talk to. People will automatically introduce you to people, attempting to ease your immense awkwardness.

Just so happens that on Friday, Coworker S offered me a chance to attend a fund-raising poker tournament of which the Young Lawyers of Chicago Association (or some such thing) was a sponsor. I’m like, Hell. Yes. I will post soon on my attempts to have a classy night and just how full of fail that attempt was. (Hint: very.)


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