Courtesy of Days of Broken Arrows, a very funny opener that requires a steady tongue and exquisite timing to reliably execute,
Walk up to her and say “Can I ask you something?” Leave an awkward pause after she says “OK.” Then ask to borrow a quarter for the vending machine. If she laughs, you’re in.
This opener gambit can be fitted to any context.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Ok”
*paaaaaaaaaaaaaaause*
“Where’s the nearest pet store?”*
The pregnant pause followed by mundane request is dynamite on a woman’s pride because it raises her expectation of a flirty come-on….builds the tension….and then deflates her billowing ego with a prick of banality.
There she is, feeling her Solipsism Market Value rise with every heave of her blushing breasts, her ego growing three sizes in proportion to the exploding girth of her head hamster, smug and sure that what is to follow will fluff her id-clit beyond the bounds of modesty….when it all comes crashing down as our cunning casanova politely asks her for the time.
Mission accomplished: She was huffing her flume fumes, and then withdrawal came hard and fast. Now, despite being stricken by indignation and unable to think clearly through a flare-up of self-doubt and butthurtery, she can’t help but be a little curious about the man who would not instantly swoon under the bat of her eyelashes. The gall of this twatteaser! (i must have him)
Related, an opening gambit I love to do is a version of Pregnant Pause Game. I’ll approach, intro myself DoBA-style — “Hey, can I ask you something?” or a variation thereof — and then act conspicuously awkward and shy, as if I’m desperate to tell her my feelings for her and I’m struggling to say the words. I’ll dig the toe of my shoe into the floor, grab my hair, look downward, then upward, run my hands over the pained expression on my face, sigh heavily, audibly mutter “uuuuughhh….ok ok ok ok….i got this….come ooooooon i can do this”, take a few yogic deep breaths, and then finally…
— and by now the girl is clenching her teeth, looking very nervous and perhaps glancing at the door —
…I loudly announce “HERE GOES”, and, waiting just one more exquisite beat, deadpan, “where’s the bathroom?” Then I garnish the payload with a mischievous smirk after I have gauged her reaction as sufficiently smitten.
I have yet to do this to a girl and get anything but a smile and laughter through exhaled breath, and it’s a perfect springboard to more traditional flirting, because by now the chick knows that you know she was expecting the usual dweebie entreaty and you decided to play a different game. A renegade among the mediocre masses of beta males, your greet theater sets you apart, stokes her interest, and subtly informs her that she might not possess the pulchritude power level to rattle your self-possession. She’s gonna have to watch her manners with you if she wants to see Act 2.
*roosh reference
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