The Belmont Club has an interesting discussion of a Meghan McArdle article in the Atlantic Monthly about why some men are good at picking up women and other men not. There seems to be an assumption that men who strike out a lot in the pickup game are drowning in the River of Despair. I confess that in my early youth I was one of these, and my river of despair was the Pickup Styx.

 

 

I’ve always envied men who could

Get women with a smile

A word, a look, and off they’d go

As I sat there the while

And watched the byplay in despair

And wondered why ‘twas that

I could not ever do the same

Was I just born a flat?

I have my hair, my teeth are fine

My clothes are cleaned and pressed

I meet someone for dinner and

I try my very best

To set the tone right from the start

But she thinks I’m a bore

I take her home, a peck on cheek

But can’t get past the door

Young ladies just won’t look my way

No matter hard I try

My wife says it’s because I’m old

Though grandkids think I’m spry