| rev:text
| - So, up until tonight, I've primarily used Yelp as a dating website. A girl thinks my picture is kinda cute. I write reviews that demonstrate I passed high school English. She writes/compliments me... I'm cocky/funny. I offer to explore downtown with her. She turns me down. I try the next girl. Same result. But the intent is always there. After this review, I doubt I'll have to worry about succeeding with any woman who ever reads this review ever again.
So check it out. I'm a male slut. If I meet you in person and I lay my lines on you and smile in this certain way that I've discovered makes women look away and blush, you'll definitely give me your number and probably go home with me within one more encounter. That's my M.O. It works. If it ain't broke...
I'm not altogether proud of the man I've become but I'm not going to stop either. From what I've gathered from movies and television, my life is fairly wonderful. Unless me writing about it causes some cosmic/karmic shift and I get disfigured in a car accident tomorrow and lose my mojo, I have several strong years of carousing left in me.
Ok, all that said, I've been reading on Yelp about all the "cougars" who frequent this lovely establishment. I define a "cougar" not by age, but as a woman who knows what she wants (me). So my buddy, who's also a man about town and similarly successful in this field, and I decide that this is our new watering hole. We've been there twice in the last two weeks. Guess how many woman we've taken home or who have taken us to their homes in the last two weeks? Four. Guess how many we've given The Business to... The same four. Guess what our batting average is... .1000
Usually, I need to take a woman out one more time before The Business is exchanged. Sometimes more if she's particularly prudish. Barcelona is where The Business is the understood currency. I like The Business. So if you're reading this and you think I'm scum, I used to be you. I've "evolved." If you're reading this and you're a woman who knows what she wants, shoot me a message. And if you're reading this you think I'm lying because you didn't get laid last time you went there, I am willing to show you how. But you'd never take my advice because you don't believe me or think you'll succeed next time on your own or think I'm an ass for writing this and you don't want to meet me on principle. I don't blame you. I feel dirty. But just a little. Mostly smug.
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