Courage, they said, and pointed toward the land

I loved this excerpt from the NYT, about PUA (pickup artists) at a bar and a pool. The greatest thing was that it showed that there are some women who are getting wise to the hookup scene, like me, and who summarily reject what it has to offer. From a couple of days ago:

Mr. Weinstein had nicknamed the woman Bar, because he thought she looked like Bar Rafaeli, the Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. He never asked her for her real name. That was part of the game. Why inject unwanted intimacy?

Bar, who asked not to be named in the newspaper, said she was 25, working as a bartender and had spent the last five years traveling the globe. She was broke, and liked having wealthy men buy her drinks.

She was, she admitted, a bit of a hunter herself. Mr. Weinstein and Mr. Altschuler called her the perfect wing woman, because she introduced them to her attractive friends.

Soon, Mr. Weinstein was focusing on a waifish brunette lying next to him. He thought she was an actress; Mr. Altschuler thought she was a lawyer.

They made a $10 bet about it.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Weinstein said, turning her way. “We’re trying to figure out who you are. I think you’re a B-list actress or something, maybe on Bravo or whatever.”

She laughed, but refused to divulge.

When the mysterious woman lowered herself into the pool, he followed.

She told him that she loved sports cars, and that she bought a new one every two years.

Mr. Weinstein told her that he loved hot women. Then he told her about his girlfriend, quickly mentioning the open relationship.

The brunette told him that he would someday regret not settling.

“So what?” Mr. Weinstein asked. “I’m going to be that older guy with the hottest girl on his arm. Like he’s not the happiest guy on the planet?”

After some chitchat, the brunette excused herself to work on her tan.

“She was definitely into me,” Mr. Weinstein said.