Getting into the hottest clubs in cities like New York, LA, or Miami can be tough if you’re not a hot chick or a guy surrounded by hot chicks. If you’re a single dude you better have an in or be ready to drop a few dimes. It’s actually pretty damn discriminatory if you think about it. Yeah I’ll say it. Woman’s Lib taught us all about the glass ceilings and double standards they have to put up with, but you never hear a peep about the bullshit guys face in society, like when they go out to clubs. Part of the reason is that it doesn’t occur to us to complain—for one, because we’re stupid, and for two, because we’re busy staring at kajoobies. Well have no fear gentlemen, I’m here with some solutions. For the dudes who want get past a tough velvet rope sans date or reservation, here’s how to do it.
First off, you have to completely sell the fact you belong. That means you’re not even worried about getting in. Walk right up to the front door (shoo people out of your way if you have to). Have your cell phone out like you’re juggling a conversation; after all, you're not even sweating getting in, your mind is on other things. Wave the doorman over, don’t be rude or condescending, but express a slight impatience. Remember, you're selling the notion that you are supposed to be inside, but you give these doordudes any excuse and they’ll send you off.
Now, dropping names of club owners and promoters is useful, but often these people might be called out to verify they know you. Let’s say you don’t have names to drop. When the doorman comes over, have your cell in your hand, like dealing with him doesn’t involve your complete attention, and motion with your free hand for him to let you in. On a good night, this alone might be enough to get you through. But let’s assume he puts up the picket fence with the dreaded, “Can I help you?”
Here’s the script. You say, “Yeah, my friends have a table in there. They’re waiting for me.” At this point check your phone for important texts from phantom VIP friends who are dying to know where you are and lean forward as if you totally expect him to pull the rope open for you. If he doesn’t seem to be doing so, put your phone to your ear. Now you’re getting a call. “That’s them… ‘Hello! Yeah, I’m outside! Yeah they’re letting me in now! Yeah, they’re letting me in.’” Look at the doorman with an expression that says, “Any day now.” Don’t say it, just look it.
If you get this far, successfully striking the balance between being entitled and polite, the doorman will most often let you by. But if he still won’t give, don’t make the mistake of talking too much. Everyone knows you can never get away with actually saying things like “Do you know who I am?” Doormen and bouncers love to boot guys who pull that line. The key is to express the notion that they should know who you are. You won’t do that by continuing to jabber.
You do it by standing there right in front of him, making eye contact, and stoically waiting him out. If you don’t tell him anything antagonizing, or leer at him too provocatively, he won’t have a reason to tell you to fuck off. But he will want you out of his eyesight. So more often than not, if you played it perfectly, even the stingiest doorman will relent and pull the rope. He’ll probably let a group of people in ahead of you and then motion for you to proceed inside too. You’re welcome.
But now that I think about it... I hate it when I’m in a club with too many single guys. It ruins the atmosphere. Oh well, equality is a bitch.
I can see you… but not like, in a stalker way or anything like that.