Strolling Out Some Advice

This is a blog for the single guys in the room. But first, a brief disclaimer.

(YAB Productions, and particularly its editor-in-chief, wish to present the following extremely informational and educational post about female attraction rituals to assist those in the loyal readership looking to attract Miss Right. YAB Productions, and most definitely its editor-in-chief, do not currently practice any of the following techniques or methodologies, for he has no use for them. But hey, he’s a guy with knowledge, knowledge that should be public domain for the bachelors in the crowd. To the editor-in-chief, “flirt” is merely a group of letters one needs to spell “THE FLYERS WIN!” Nothing more.)

Picture you’re a guy, and you’re in some public setting. There’s people going for walks, stopping in and out of the local stores and eateries, and the sun is shining. You’ve decided to dress your casual best, in hopes of catching the eye of that girl sitting there on the bench reading a classic novel. The following (in ascending order of effectiveness) are a list of things that you may want to consider having with you to catch her eye.

5. The very same classic novel. I’m sorry if she’s a Jane Austen fan.
4. Your dress uniform from that time you were in the military – Maverick had it all wrong. There’s no need to sing karaoke, just look the part.
3. Stacks of money hanging out the back pockets of your jeans.
2. A puppy. Holy hell, she may even buy you dinner if you opt for the retriever.
1. A baby. Let me elaborate.

On more than one occasion in the last week or so, Clara and I have made the trek across Fairfax Corner in the stroller (her, not me) to get Katie a coffee from Caribou. Getting out the door with baby-in-stroller isn’t that hard, since we still place the car seat in it, creating a carriage-type structure. That means that for the duration of the trip, the baby really has two choices.

1) Close eyes and go to sleep.
2) Stare at the sucker pushing the stroller.

Because of the canopy on the stroller and well, the very tiny proportions of the little one, no one outside a three foot radius can actually see that you are pushing a baby around the parking lot. It is only when a passerby on the same sidewalk pulls a whiplash with their neck that the infant verification process takes hold. And when they do (in a shopping center setting, “they” refer to “the ladies,”) hearts melt. Apparently, there’s something about a guy pushing a baby in a stroller that has the sentimentality of a Hallmark card to it. (Not the Shoebox ones, the unfunny ones that nobody buys.)

When I get into the coffee shop, the cashier can’t help but notice I’d decided to bring a four-wheeled child cart with me. They always say something about how cute she is and they ask how old she is. With this, I have two secret desires. First, in response to their question, I would love to deadpan, “My daughter there? Oh, she just turned 12.” That would be worth it solely for the reaction. Second, I feel like if I take the baby out and hold her up, that should entitle me to some sort of “supercute wingman coffee discount.” It’s not like I’m drinking the stuff, so I might as well have a financial cost savings motive for buying it, right?

The tricky thing comes post-purchase. Now that you have your coffee, it’s time to head home to deliver it. So that you don’t drop the cup, your velocity decreases exponentially. This allows you to pass couples enjoying their respective coffees with all the urgency of a parade float. If I had a dime for every time a girl has shot her guy a “We should totally have a baby!!!” look after we pass, well then, I wouldn’t have to consider using my baby as a caffeinated discount tool.

In closing, as a married man, I have no need to use the baby to meet women. But for those single guys out there, I totally recommend borrowing a baby for exactly this purpose. (Note: it would be a total bonus if the baby was named Jane Austen, had a Louis Vuitton diaper bag, was sharing her stroller with a retriever puppy and was singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic.

Godspeed.