On Wednesday night, I made my way over to the Pantages Hotel for some TIFF-related drinks at the martini bar. The party was hosted by CityVIP, and sponsored by Fuze Beverages, and man, was it crowded in there. I got there about forty minutes ahead of my friends, so I was left to my own devices for a while. Task one is always getting a drink. I had a Fuzeberry martini, in which I couldn’t taste a damn thing, so clearly they were dangerous. I switched to vodka sodas after that, because I felt like it’d be a social misstep to be dancing on tables in a room full of strangers with no friends to drag me off and shove me in a cab.
It was an industry party, so everyone was glad-handing each other their business cards, which leads me to believe that I need some. For YOU, dear readers, to facilitate this dating thing. As my sister so wisely puts it, it MAY out-class lipstick on a cocktail napkin. Plus, I could get one of those super cute business card holders–which I’d have to practice opening and removing cards from, to avoid the inevitable fumbling, and assist with the illusion that I have sophistication and grace.
You know the theory that a man finds it easier to approach a woman on her own? I have mixed feelings about that. While I was standing (in the best light i could find–bright overhead spotlights are NOT a woman’s best friend, and the Pantages should really look into that), glancing around the room casually, with what I thought was an approachable look on my face, no one talked to me for the longest time. I eventually fell into conversation with a videographer, then my friends arrived, and THAT’S when I started getting attention. An older (and slightly creepy) man grabbed my hand and offered to buy my next drink, and then stood a metre or two away and discussed me loudly with his cohorts (no, I’m not even kidding you). A passerby leaned drunkenly towards me and slurred, “You’re SEXY!” and a photographer started getting handsy. So, not exactly GOOD attention, but at least I can be reasonably certain that I didn’t look like an absolute troglodyte, so what gives? Any thoughts, men? Should we ignore Cosmo’s oft-repeated (and by oft, I mean every issue) advice and stick to pairs?
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