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Issue link: https://loumag.epubxp.com/i/453014
40 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 2.15 What are some pick-up lines you use or have gotten? "Dang, girl, I love your glasses." "Do I know you from somewhere?" "This girl just grabbed my butt. Will you stand next to me and pretend to be my girlfriend?" "I have a bunch of one- liner texts I send to girls: Texting you makes my thumbs happy." "My best pick-up line isn't even words — it's my dance moves." "I say, 'My friend and I are having a discussion: Is three weeks too early to say I love you?' She and her friend are all about talking about love." "'How about you and your dog and me and my dog go out on a date?' I don't even have a dog." "Around Christmastime, someone said something like, 'You must have been on the naughty list because you weren't under my tree.' Gross." road, turning left on Baxter Avenue. Take this as a sign of maturity, the ease of no pressure when there need not be. Know it's him as soon as you turn in the parking lot. Several people stand out front with their cigarette smoke or fogged breath. Te outside light spotlights him leaning against the wall like James Dean. He straightens as he sees you seeing him. How does he know it's you? Out of the car now, walk toward him. Drawing close, decide playful is best. Duck behind an SUV, then dinosaur creep out the other side, say, "BOO!" He laughs, says, "You must be Arielle." Say, "Yep! And I'm a hugger, too." E In line for the venue lobby, thank him again for inviting you. You're excited; you've never been here. He says he fgured this would be better than just dinner and a movie. Look at his face. He's more of a man than the Tinder pictures display. He seems taller, for one, probably because mountains and the lit-up Bonnaroo arch dwarf him in his pics. In person, he has blond post-stubble fuf, which is just what you like to see. You're both kind of quiet shufing in. When the ticket lady asks for the tickets, Joey hands them to her. When she asks if you want to keep the tickets or throw them away, shrug and look at Joey with an "Uhhh" of indecision. Really it's just a scrap of paper with ink, but it is memory, and who knows? What if this is the frst of many memories? Here's the proof, dated and all. Te tickets get tossed. Room is a crowd of tables and chairs, barely room for aisles. Say, "Packin' 'em in, huh?" Say, "Sardines." A doorman directs y'all to a table near the middle of the room. You're comfortable till a couple dudes take the seats behind you, their knees in your back. You and Joey look at the menu, decide no nachos. Waitress is nowhere to be found, so you coast on sobriety, questions. He says he's getting his master's from U of L's Speed School of Engineering. Ask about chemistry, try to feel some. He works with 3D printing. He says, "I've got foor tiles I printed in a NASA spaceship right now. In space." You haven't heard a more interesting detail all day. Acknowledge this, then say, "Yeah, well, I've got cousins up in space." His teeth are nice and white and straight. When he asks about you, your impulse is to lie. More interesting than the truth. But tell the truth: You're a writer. You're just trying to write. Trying to write the right. Whatever that means. Say you're working on a magazine feature about homeless people living in the woods and you've been straight hanging with the homies. Say you're on the third episode of HBO's True Detective. Compare journalism to detective work: getting stories, facts, puzzling pieces, considering sources, seeking justice, every angle. He says, "It's important to cut through the bullshit." Say, "I'm learning that." Ten say, "I was always so naive as a child." E After the show, walk to the Back Door for stif drinks and real talk. Crack your favorite of Buress' jokes — like him calling out unintentionally funny rap songs, music cued Pitbull — on the way there. Sit in a booth by all those painted faces on the wall. He talks about his recent trip to Montana and rock climbing, and you talk about your summer in Colorado, reading poetry. It's going well, but you begin to wonder if his words are too agreeable, too diplomatically placed. Is this the scientifc mind while yours just rambles? Turned on by the comedy, you start speaking in one-liners, exaggerating certain syllables in stories with open-palmed hand gestures and wide eyes. As if this is your stand-up routine; Joey, your audience; this seat, your stage. Spend the rest of the time at Back Door half-listening to Joey and winking at Buress, who's at the booth next to yours with the Laughing Derby posse. Wink, wink, wink. Eventually Buress, who is real out of it, picks up on your persistent antics, shakes his head no, no, no. Joey laughs at you. Eventually you go. E A couple days later, you hear the last from Joey. A text message. He says y'all should try to fnd an indoor climbing place once he's back from Atlanta. Chemical engineers' convention. Respond, "Mecca. Maybe you'll fnd the equation for heaven." He says, "We just need the adiabatic isentropic heat cycle for heaven." It all ends with, "Well, a-fuckin'-men." E Already 7:11 p.m. and the email said to be here early, like 30 minutes ago. You check the spread of Diamond Pub and Billiards on Barret Avenue, guess who's who. Who is here for this mess? Pleather jackets line your peripherals; several button-ups and ties. You sit at the table marked "#6," also your badge number. While you wait, fddle at the edges of the neon-green Pre-Dating Speed Dating instruction sheet, labeled "Ready, Set, Date!" Read some of the backup questions listed on it, in case convo fops: "Have you ever Googled yourself?" and "Biggest pet peeve?" Add a couple of your own: "Ultimate travel destination?" and "You really think Bill Cosby touched them girls?" When you run into Jasmine from your downtown YMCA spin class, she tells you this is her second time speed dating, no luck before. She says, "Did you know Louisville is rated ffth-worst city to fnd a date? I really wish I would have known that before I moved here." You say, "Really? I don't believe that. Seems everybody's always coupling up." All the ladies to their seats. Here comes Big Mama from the registration table shufing through. Men line next to the bar short to squeamish. Big Mama matches each man with his frst assigned number. Tere are 11 men, seven ladies, so some guys will just have to wait. Down plops a hefty ol' boy, some 300 pounds. Nametag: Ty. Smile hello, write his name down on your "Match Sheet," which has columns for name, badge number, comments, spaces to check "Let's talk again!" or "No, thanks." Big Mama gives the rundown: "Each round lasts six minutes. It may drag or fy. Ladies, don't move. Te men Down plops a hefty ol' boy, some 300 pounds. Nametag: Ty. Smile hello, write his name down on your "Match Sheet."