Online dating is popular, but that doesn’t mean that old-fashioned face-to-face meet-ups are obsolete. Below is just one woman’s list of suggestions for good places to meet women. Some of the locations are more obvious; others are underrated. So have at it, and maybe in this mix you’ll discover a spot you’d never considered.
Have you ever been on a whitewater rafting trip where by day you use teamwork to traverse deadly rapids and by night you do trust falls and then relax by the fire with cold beers while giving each other backrubs? If so, you’ve had a taste of what it’s like to be in an acting class. Not all acting classes, but lots of them. All that emoting and sharing and teamwork inevitably develops into to an intense intimacy with your fellow classmates. It’s basically nonstop emotional sex, which is, of course, a close down-the-street neighbor from regular sex.
You really can’t beat this for efficiency and ease; one hour-long outing at the dog park can provide you the opportunity to meet half a dozen women or more. It’s like speed dating for free. Let’s say your dog is horsing around with another dog. You and the dog’s mom meander toward one another. Ha ha you can say, our dogs are being so funny together. Laugh and talk about dogs or not-dogs to your heart‘s content. Then, when the conversation dwindles, meander away and follow your canine to the next doggie playdate. Simple. And don’t forget this significant built-in benefit to the dog park: you are already at least semi-attractive to all the women there simply because you like dogs.
DMV/Pharmacy queue/Post office
As soul-sucking as these places are, they are also a little gift to humanity because they provide us with a common adversary. For example, let’s imagine you are in line at CVS waiting to pick up a prescription. The line is at a standstill because the bony, shrieky man monopolizing the pharmacy window is now on minute 12 of arguing with the associate about how she should place a call to his former doctor IN RUSSIA to inquire about the dosage of his new platelet medication, which means that the young woman directly behind him in line cannot actually retrieve and pay for her simple prescription. As this young woman grows agitated, she will feel compelled to seek out a fellow normal human to serve as her witness to all this inefficient crazypants madness. You are that witness. You are a Fellow Normal Person. The two of you bond and commiserate like crazy over this horrible place you are in.
After yoga class, I am so blissed-out I will engage in conversation with anyone. My euphoria is caused by the fact that I am 1.) flooded with relief that class is over, 2.) proud that I made it through the whole hour without passing out 3) feeling all muscle-y and jacked up and full of hope that perhaps I have finally succeeded in working my butt cheeks into taut little ballerina-style orbs. Also, one thing you might like to keep in mind: most women already harbor sweetly affectionate feelings towards the men in their yoga classes–consciously or not–because it is flat-out adorable when non-yogi guys do yoga. Condescending, yes, but it’s also true, and it’s a bias in your favor, so just enjoy it.
An oldie but goodie. Camaraderie + sweatiness + team huddles + post-game bar outings. Good stuff.
Outside a hair salon
As you probably already know, most ladies feel super-foxy after they get a haircut/blowout/whathaveyou. Somehow, the people who work inside salons do magic things to our hair and the result is that we walk out feeling like a million bucks and believing that we look 10 times prettier than our regular, normal everyday selves. I know that whenever I leave the salon, I am in a splendid mood because for this solitary moment in time, at least, I have bouncy, shiny Pantene commercial hair that smells like billion-dollar coconuts. So, given this, I believe that if you were to just sit outside a salon door and do anything–collect signatures for a petition, request change for the meter, run a lemonade stand, even ask for driving directions–you’d likely be met with some serious warmth.
This has to be the worst place on earth; the parking lot is a complete clusterf%^k, yet the inside of the store is as desolate as Siberia. How can that be? Every time I step foot in there, I end up alone in a vast, towering aisle with no one around for miles. At first I am always holding out hope that a sales associate will happen by–after all, my questions about the wood stain I need are few and simple–but eventually it is clear this is never, ever going to happen, so I will settle for just any human being to come along and save me from my overwhelming Home Depot loneliness. Really, any breathing human being will work; I’m just extremely grateful to anyone who will speak to me at all, about wood stain or anything else.
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