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Some nights, you don't necessarily want to meet Mr. Right For The Rest Of Your Life. You might get that special reckless feeling when the sun goes down, a sudden urge to chug a few summery beers or cocktails. You might want to saunter into a bar and let loose, or pretend you don't have a lighter to talk to that cutie (briefly) before finding yourself making out on the dance floor. You want to forget about your job, your stress, the friends that annoy you, and how many times your mom has texted you today (why did anyone introduce her to this technology?).
This is the first in a series of blog entries where I instruct you (ladies) on where to go when you want to pick someone up, or my personal favorite...manipulate someone into picking you up.
We begin our journey at the Cove. It's a dark, low ceiling-ed bar in Williamsburg (very close to everyone's favorite L train). Don't be scared of the hipsters. You're better than that. Focus on the mission at hand. It could be a bad hair day, you could have left your makeup at home. These things do not matter. Thank the darkness. And the alcohol. Because it's flowing in this joint, and it's flowing hard. Everything is very reasonably priced, so you don't have to worry about having to convince a guy to buy you a round. Hell, if you buy a couple drinks, the cute bartender will probably hook you up. And if you stay long enough? Rumor has it you could go home WITH said cute bartender. Nothing wrong with that. Maybe you'll get more free drinks in the future.
Now, the weekends are the time to hit this spot up. Don't get too gussied up. Don't wear something you love. If you're like my friend, you'll hit it off with a guy immediately, get on their wild dance floor (the DJs kill it), and wind up with a completely ripped dress. These things happen. Embrace it. You'll have a story to tell your lady friends the next day, after waking up in the home of a stranger and making the strangely exhilarating (or hungover) walk of shame. I find that every time I walk, or stumble in here, there are guys everywhere. And they're watching you. Let them think that it was their idea to come talk to you, or their idea to pull you to the dance floor. Relish the attention. And have fun.
But please, for the love of god, leave the mustachioed man behind the bar for me. I'm working on it. It'll happen. I swear.
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