The Game

she has given me the implicit right to be more familiar with her. So the next time she comes around, I smile and wink again.
ZAN: You again? Wow, you sure like to hang around us, don’t you?
    HER: ( Laughs ) (some stuff)
    ZAN: (Some other stuff)
    HER: (Some other stuff)
    ZAN: ( As she is leaving ) I bet you’ll come back again real soon. I can see it in your eyes.
    HER: ( Smiling ) Yeah, I can’t resist.
    Now I have established a cocky funny theme—her wanting to hang around us and that is why she keeps coming back to our table. Of course, she has to come back to our table: She’s the waitress. And when she does, I smile at her and give the other guys a knowing look in front of her as if to say, “See, I was right.” All along, I strive to make the interaction come off like I have known her for a long time. This establishes a level of familiarity that usually takes several meetings to build.
    So now, after a while, I will say something like:
HER: Can I get you another drink?
    ZAN: ( Smile, wink ) You know what? You’re kinda cute. I think I’m going to call you.
    HER: You think so, huh? You don’t have my number.
    ZAN: Why, you’re right! Okay, tell me and I will write it down.
    HER: ( Smiling ) Not a good idea. I have a boyfriend.
    ZAN: ( Pretending to write ) Whoa, slow down. I didn’t quite catch your number there. You better repeat it for me. Let’s see… 555 …
    HER: ( Laughs and rolls her eyes )
    The absurdity of this exchange is that there is no way she is going to give me her phone number in front of a bunch of my friends. No girl would. But her digits are not the goal just yet.
    Now she and I have a rapport, in a manner of speaking. And I’ve made myself memorable enough that the next night we go there, she’ll recognize me. This way, I can walk up, put my arm around her, and continue with my usual “You would make a good girlfriend for me” talk. And since everything is said in a half-joking manner, she doesn’t know if I’m really hitting on her or if I’m just fooling around. So when I return:
HER: ( Laughing ) Oh no! Not you again!
    ZAN: Stephanie, my sweet! Hey, listen, sorry I didn’t return your call last night. You know how it is. I’m just a busy guy.
    HER: ( Playing along ) Yeah, I’m really mad about that.
    This gets the whole table laughing, including her. And it’s back on again for the evening.
    Later:
ZAN: You know what, Stephanie. You’re a terrible girlfriend. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time we had sex. That’s it. We’re through.
    ZAN: ( Pointing to another waitress ) She’s going to be my new girlfriend.
    HER: ( Laughing )
    ZAN: ( Playing with my phone ) You are now downgraded from Booty Call #1 to Booty Call #10.
    HER: ( Laughing ) No, please, I’ll do anything to make it up to you.
    And later still:
ZAN: ( Motioning for her to come over and pointing at my knee ) Stephanie, come and sit down. I’ll tell you a bedtime story. ( Smile, wink )
    I have used that last line for years. It is gold.
    Some of you guys are probably thinking, “Okay, now what? How do you transition from funny ball-busting to more serious, romantic, sexual talk?”
    It’s simple, actually. At some point, I just talk to her quietly alone. Remember to turn on the bedroom eyes.
ZAN: ( No longer cocky funny ) Stephanie, do you want me to call you?
    HER: You know I have a boyfriend.
    ZAN: That’s not what I asked. Do you want me to call you?
    HER: Tempting, but I can’t.
    ZAN: Sneak away with me, girl. I’ll take you higher up the slopes of Parnassus than you have ever been. Etc.
    Everything you just read actually happened last Thursday and Friday evening with me and a waitress named Stephanie. She was easily the hottest thing around in a long time. The jury is still out on this one, but she has no illusions about my intentions. My friends she views as nice guys, but not me. She knows that any interaction with me is going to be passionate from the start. And now she can choose to accept it or reject it.
    The truth is, she may very well reject my overtures. But it doesn’t matter. She won’t soon forget me. And you can bet that the other waitresses know all about the things I said to her. And that is very good, especially since I have said almost the exact same things in the exact same way to all the other waitresses there. And I will continue to do so—right in front of Stephanie.
    The net effect is social proof. When you go in, you own the place. You wave the