In my early twenties, I used to be a participant in a female sport known to most as “man-hunting.” Whenever I happened to go out with my girlfriends, the goal was to see how many drinks we could get men to buy for us. We would put on tiny little dresses, sky high heels, our most scintillating perfume and go “hunting.”
We schmoozed with the hot, not-so-hot, intelligent, clearly not intelligent, tall, short, old, young, rich, broke, and entrepreneurial. But now, having freshly turned the corner from 29 to 30, my thoughts about this are pretty much…
“What the hell were you thinking!?!”
Especially now that in my “old age” I have seen over 100 episodes of shows like CSI, NCIS, and Criminal Minds. I think back to those times and wonder… why did I do that? Was I broke? Was I insecure? Was I bored? What was the point? And to this day I don’t really have a satisfactory answer aside from, it seemed like fun at the time.
Now that the frontal lobe of my brain has solidified, and I belong to an entirely different decade of life, I thank my lucky stars that myself and none of my friends ever got roofied. But I also look back on my 20’s with a tinge of disappointment because back then I thought my looks were all I had.
I guess at the time it didn’t matter that I was doing well in college, was on the right track to getting into medical school and achieving the career I dreamed about since I was 5 years old.
I will admit that when I was younger “man-hunting” was occasionally fun. Sometimes I met really nice guys, most of the time I didn’t. But what I gleaned from my own experiences, and those of my close girlfriends, is that nothing good ever really came from “man-hunting.”
While being found interesting enough to buy a drink for was nice at the time… it’s what came after the initial exchange I found bothersome. While not everyone agrees with me (and that’s okay), I now view drinks as a type of sexual currency.
Most men I’ve encountered seem to be under the impression that if they spend $10 on a gin and tonic that you have now entered a legally binding alcohol contract that requires you to give them something in return… and stimulating conversation is usually not at the top of the list.
The fine print can be as small as your phone number, escalate to a hand on your leg, or an arm around your waist, or be as big as expecting to see you naked after last call. Personally, the way I feel about it is…
I am not a zoo animal. Buying me a drink does not give you the right to fondle or pet me without an invitation.
And you certainly won’t be seeing me naked after last call or anytime in the future.
Bottom line… Thank you for the offer, but I respectfully decline. Why? I’m worth way more than 10 bucks.
Now if you’re the type of man who wants to look into my eyes instead of at my backside, or ask me my name before staring at my chest, then by all means sit down next to me, and start a conversation. I don’t need you to buy me a drink because I’m more than capable of buying my own. That is the type of man I would love to catch.