Audio By Carbonatix
After a few beers, guys are capable of solving all the world’s problems, performing feats of superhuman strength and experiencing Zen-like enlightenment. Alcohol’s mind-freeing ability allows us to express feelings anywhere along the spectrum, from shouting “Play ‘Freebird!'” to “I love you, man!,” and to channel this energy for the good of all mankind. On a recent night at Rio Grande Mexican Restaurant (1525 Blake Street), under the influence of the Rio’s powerful margaritas, our insights became unusually profound. Our keen powers of observation — coupled with crippling criticism of every other male in the bar — brought us to the realization that guys will do anything for sex.
I’m as surprised as you are by this discovery. I’m even more surprised that I can remember any of that night. Normal margs usually have enough of an afterburn to warn a drinker that he’s about to leap over the line between pleasantly drunk and criminally anti-social. But these aren’t normal margaritas, which is why the Rio limits you to three. Without such discretion on the part of the establishment, I have little doubt that the streets of Denver would be teeming with people wandering aimlessly because they’ve forgotten where they live.
After my first marg — and before I had to start covering one eye to prevent double-vision — I managed to make a few notes on a napkin that I couldn’t read the next morning. I considered having a few beers to see if state-dependent memory would help my recollection of the night, but my mouth already tasted like the bottom of a birdcage. So I just thought long and hard instead.
And what I remembered were the embarrassing displays that confirmed that most (all) guys will sink to any level to get someone in the sack. In the quest for sex, guys created things like war (basically an extended ruler of who’s the biggest stud), beer (often considered the gateway to the bedroom, since it lowers everybody’s standards and morals), 1-800-Flowers.com, Dodge Caravans, chick flicks, Lamaze classes for couples, flavored martinis and “artistic” porn movies. They also settled on two basic techniques for picking up women in a bar.
The first is the Skulking Approach. The Skulker plants himself at the edge of a group of women and, by osmosis, works his way into the circle with the stealth and speed of a glacier. The problem with this approach is that a guy often stands there long enough to be mistaken for a waiter or, worse, an ashtray. And even if he breaks in, the most he can usually expect is an icy glare — unless a girl is drunk enough to think that the guy actually started out as part of the group.
There were several Skulkers at Rio, and one in particular comes to mind with surprising clarity, given my condition that night. Hair slicked back, dressed straight out of the pages of GQ and pathologically confident in his manliness, he sidled up to within a few molecules of a party of women obviously celebrating a private event. Eventually, these women were alerted to his proximity — I’m guessing by his gum-chewing, which I could hear from across the bar, or by his cologne, which emanated visible smell rays. Before he could utter a word, though, he got a look from the nearest girl that, if looks could kill, would have sent him home in an urn. Needless to say, our group of snickering guys thought this was one of the funniest things we’d ever seen.
Since I have a shred of self-respect, I subscribe to the second school, the Outgoing Approach (some might call it the Obnoxious Approach), because when all efforts fail, it still allows me to claim that I was doing everything for a laugh. This technique has some problems, too, since after a few (ten) drinks, most guys might be accepted into a pack of lowland gorillas, but not human society. So your only hope when acting “outgoing” is to latch on to a group that has consumed a similar number of margaritas. Another difficulty is keeping your focus. Ideally, you need at least three guys to work this approach successfully: an opener, an early reliever and a closer who invests more time, so that at least one of you comes off as sane and interested. Sometimes, in a really uptight crowd (the sort often found in certain Cherry Creek bars), you may need more middlemen.
Some guys would argue that there’s a third methodology — Smooth — but in fact, there’s no such thing. Women know exactly what a guy is looking for, and smooth just comes off slimy.
Whatever school you belong to, the Rio — which attracts lots of great-looking women — is the place to do your homework. But Skulkers beware: After just two of these margs, you, too, may find that you have no choice but to be “outgoing.”
Make that “obnoxious.”
