Around the same time I read about the whiny San Francisco women represented in that SF Weekly article (and the whiny SF men and women on its comments page), I found a corresponding blog that’s gained some local popularity. The name says it all: Why There Are No Girls in San Francisco.
Whoever this Samuel Snodgrass is, and he may be several people, all that sexual frustration must make him a great writer, because I’ve enjoyed reading it. I have no doubt he’s being tongue in cheek at times, too. And while I’m going to ridicule the blog here, I’m doing it as I would ridicule a good friend who’s acting a little lame. He, and all other complaining SF guys, should know better.
I’m climbing on my Gucci-saddled high horse again, but I’m reminded of the season finale of “Mad Men,” where Don Draper is offended when Conrad Hilton moves his hotel account, and Hilton retorts, “I got everything I have on my own. It’s made me immune to those who complain and cry because they can’t. I didn’t take you for one of them, Don.”
Be less like this guy ...
So I’m going to get a little Connie Hilton on you here. I understand the challenges for single SF men — I am one of them, after all — and I experience them often. I don’t object to WTANGISF and their male brethren because they’re totally off base; I object to them because they’re complaining about the food without bringing anything to the table. They dream of living in some mythical fantasy land where hot women throw themselves at them on the street — or as they call it, New York. And for them, I have little sympathy.
I was in a hell far worse than San Francisco’s dating scene. I was living in San Jose — Man Jose to the locals — as a mid-20s virgin working five nights a week, including weekends. To me, San Francisco was a beacon of babe-itude one hour to the north, and I would make that hopeful drive on Thursday nights and get a fleeting taste of the social life I could enjoy if only I had better luck. Or a better schedule. Or better game.
... and more like this guy.
But complaining got old, and soon I realized I had to make my own luck. So I started using my vacation days to get occasional weekend nights off, and as I had no friends, I started inviting myself to random SF social outings I discovered online or through people I met. I met attractive girls at these outings, and while I still lacked the courage to make anything happen with them, that would change within a year. I started Project 52, and once some unsuspecting girl did take away my V card, the floodgates opened, and my love affair with San Francisco women began. It continues to this day, even through my dry spells, and my own complaints.
I’ve had two long-term relationships and many shorter-term ones with girls I’ve met in SF. All were smart, pretty, stylish and lots of fun. Many of them I met at dance clubs, where they’re supposedly at their scarcest and bitchiest. So I would suggest to the Samuel Snodgrasses of the city that if they’re not scoring, they’re probably not trying. Or they’re hanging out in the Marina too often.
I mean, seriously. You’re going to spend an entire entry lamenting how those SF Weekly girls didn’t approach you at the Tipsy Pig? Why didn’t you talk to them? Furthermore, unless you’re a tourist or a stock broker, what are you doing looking for girls at the Tipsy Pig in the first place? Hanging out in the Marina, unless you’re a 6-foot-2 ex-frat boy, is the ultimate rookie mistake. It would turn me into a Negative Nancy, too.
For all the sweeping statements the blog makes about SF women’s unapproachability, I don’t see any examples of a guy actually trying to approach a chick. And that’s the common flaw of my frustrated SF friends — they’re slumping, but they’re not making an honest effort, and when they do it’s with a negative vibe. Which feeds their slump and SF women’s stereotype of men as wimps.
Reading all the reasons why women suck here is like hanging out with that guy who keeps complaining about “the ratio” in the bar and doesn’t talk to the one or two cute girls that no guy is talking to. It’s onerous and ruins my own mood.
Perhaps the problem is all the brain power among SF guys. Being the mathematical whizzes they are, they’re quick to point out how the odds are against them. And they’re right — there are more guys than girls in just about any bar we visit here, and as the night ages, the ratio does get worse.
But so what? Is your game so poor that you need the ladies lined up 10 deep? Do you not see almost every other guy picking his butt in there? All it takes is one hottie to make your night, and she’s often there for the taking. And if you’re going to constantly blame her iPhone for not making a move, I’d say that’s natural selection weeding you out.
A guy who needs all the conditions just right for him is no better than Vince Carter — spectacular when everything’s going his way against bad teams, but hit him just once and he’s a bawling mess. I’d suggest taking a page out of Han Solo’s handbook when flying through an asteroid field: “Never tell me the odds.”
One reason I was losing interest in coaching, and why I have trouble making regular blog posts, is that I don’t like talking about this stuff every day. I’d rather go out and live my life. I can recall attending my Charisma Arts predecessor’s bootcamps soon after I took my own, and I’d see the same clumps of guys hanging around at a bar, talking about girls instead of talking to them. I eventually got out of that scene and found friends who were willing to mix things up. I can’t make the analogy of aimless talk to masturbation, because at least the latter involves doing something.
I’d continue flogging this point of view, but it’s too easy. Instead, I’m just going to rattle off some reasons why there are girls in San Francisco:
The day game: Ironically, this is the first reason given on WTANGISF, and it confounds me. I made my bones as a social coach helping guys meet women here during the day, and I can’t imagine many cities offering more opportunity for it than San Francisco. Pick any busy area — Union Square, Polk Street, Union Street, Dolores Park, Haight Street, etc. — and attractive girls are there. We have a different music, food or art festival almost every weekend.
Most of my students who had never even tried meeting a girl during the day walked away with an instant date, a phone number or at least the best approach of their lives. Sure, women shot them down too, but if true beginners can have that kind of success, the Snodgrasses of the world should as well. So if the bar scene isn’t for you, the good news is you don’t need it here. Just man up and talk to someone.
The 6s may think they’re 9s, but the 9s don’t: We’ve been over my dislike of rating women with a number. And I do see truth in the complaint about average-looking women in SF overrating themselves. But if you’re complaining about the 6s here, why aren’t you aiming higher? Of the women I rate as a 1 (and looks matter a lot to me), I don’t find them to be stuck up at all. The hotter ones tend to be more insecure (often too much so), in my experience.
I’d suggest Mr. Snodgrass spend a couple of weeks in L.A., where I grew up. Not only do the 6s think they’re 9s, but also the 9s think they’re 12s, and unless you’re a producer, you’re liable to be seen as a 3. I’ll take SF girls any day, thank you.
While it may be true that SF lacks the runway-model, designer-label, ditzy demographic of places like L.A. or Miami, I don’t feel much of a loss there. I find it funny that many of the SF guys who complain about the lack of such women have little in common with them. Cute, pretty and beautiful — with brains and humor — are still in abundance here, and that works for me.
And I’ll say it again — if you’re so unhappy with girls’ looks here, I suggest you grow up, stop looking at them as numbers and start looking at them as people. The hot ones might just start looking at you differently, too.
80s nights: Anyone who says clubbing sucks for meeting girls is clearly going to the wrong spots. If I walk into a club playing house, techno or strictly hip-hop, I probably went there by mistake. There are multiple 80s-themed nights every Saturday here — Bootie, That 80s Show and Leisure, to name a few — not including Thursdays at the Cat Club. I’ve met lots of fun, normal, attractive girls at these places. A girl I met at Bootie recently conceded it must be like shooting fish in a barrel there if you’re a straight guy who can dance. And she’s right.
No need to impress with your car: You can drive a red Cavalier and that’s just fine with most girls here. Heck, you don’t even need a car. I’ve had SF dates on the bus and wasn’t judged at all for it. Try pulling that off in L.A.
The nerd factor: Maybe it’s porn’s fault. But it seems a lot of local guys are aiming for the square peg to their round hole (seriously, no pun intended). If you live here, you’re probably a geek — so why are you so obsessed with finding a girl with the looks and personality of a sorority queen or the Best Actress at the AVN awards? If you’re not a Type A guy, you’re probably not going to last with a Type A girl.
Some self awareness would go a long way. Then you might realize that the best girls for you are right under your nose here in San Francisco. That geeky-yet-cute girl wearing the casual top and jeans with boots at the other side of the cafe may not dress like a runway model, but she might have a lot more in common with you than the one who does. And commonality is an essential ingredient to chemistry, which is an essential ingredient to getting laid or in a relationship. Her flirting skills may need work, but chances are yours do too. So give her a chance.
I don’t claim to be above complaining — I’ve done it too during my slow periods. And some may think that I’m overlooking the data with all this macho talk. To an extent, I am. It’s easier to cop out by blaming circumstance and living alone than it is to do the work and face rejection or disappointment. But I guarantee you there’s a lonely guy in every major city wishing he were somewhere else.
I’ve had my adversity, too. Have you been mentioned in a magazine as the guy “fragged” by a girl because you were coaching guys, only to read about her hooking up with another pickup guy in the same article? Well, that happened to me early this year. Didn’t stop me from meeting some awesome girls since then, or from keeping my humor intact.
To Samuel Snodgrass, and to similarly beaten-down single guys living in my favorite city, I present a challenge: If you truly think there are no girls here, look me up. I’ll arrange for us to spend some time together — no charge, of course — and I will point out every good-looking woman I see. I will then dare you to contend that there was no one you could have talked to that day or evening. If you’re right, I’ll apologize. But if not, my request is simple: quit complaining, and start acting.