The City was dead. No girls were out. We had been to seven different bars – all usually loaded with hot girls. We hadn’t been skunked – there simply weren’t any women out.
“It’s 12:45, man. Let’s just call it a night.”
“Fuck that,” I said, “Let’s give Crowbar one last run.”
Two hours later my friend and I were hooking up with in separate rooms with girls we pulled at the last minute.
Another night I took a friend out in San Francisco. There was nothing going out. Rather than go home, at 2:30 I took him to Ruby Skye. Thirty minutes later, a chick was trying to take him home as I made out with another chick on ecstasy.
And then there was a the time a friend wanted to go home. I insisted we stay out. He ended up fucking a stripper at 4 a.m.
If the bar or club scene looks dim, you should be texting every phone number you have. “Come out.” Stay out until the bars close. Scout an after-hour party.
If you’re home alone, send one final series of texts to girls in your phone. “Hot after party going on. Come over.”
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