Ode to the clue deficient

How to take a hint
We know the scene well. Typical Friday night at your favorite watering hole, watching the “lovelies” troll around the dance floor, those Jersey boys with slicked back hair, baggy jeans and bad acne who (have to) mimic the godfather’s quintessential gangster accent, look you up and down with beady, close set eyes that make you break out into a cold sweat and test your gag reflex to an infinite degree, and utter, “how you doing?”. You shudder as you helplessly appeal to your prince charming with the jewel green eyes and sexy smile across the room, willing him to come to your aid and save you from the sweaty palms and noxious breath of the guy who should not be hitting on you, the relentless, driven creepazoid with the tenacity to approach attractive females as if they are proverbial “pieces of meat” and give the nice, respectable guys a bad name. The guy who thinks Z cavaricci pants are still in style, the guy who used an entire can of plaster of paris on his hair, the guy who thinks brushing closely against you as he swaggers by is an attractive mating effort. .
Why does the “oh no he didn’t” guy always unfortunately “do it?” And why does prince charming lack the psychic know how to sense your distress and come to your aid, saving you from the ones who won’t give up.
I call these men who cannot take a hint the “clue deficient”, for they are as consistent as the ocean’s current in their pursuit of our affection and attention and fail to recognize the most obvious rebuff to each overture.
I once had a guy seriously follow me after I walked away from his multiple, disgusting attempts to sway me to dance, “just one little dance” as king kong put it. Each excuse seemed to spur him on, from no thank you, I have a boyfriend, I have a terminal illness, foot drop, out of control body odor, I am entering a convent, I’m abstaining for lent, I have to save my friend from her murderous ex husband…Nothing seemed to work. Which begs the question, why these are fools unable to see the writing on the wall?. NO self respecting female with an ounce of self esteem will give the time of day to a sleazy guy who blatantly rubs up against you before proffering a name or introduction, and who makes a mockery of the initial flirting ritual with leering evidence of his intent. It has nothing to do with looks, either. It is all in the delivery. A polite, respectful inquiry into one’s heath, evening, as a lead in to the initial conversation in lieu of the quintessential “hey baby” (who even says that anymore) greeting will do a world of wonders toward your progress in striking up a conversation with the object of your affections.
One evening I witnessed a triumphant scene where justice prevailed. A smart female, tired of politely providing ignored excuses to a creepy guy getting too friendly (groping her), threw her drink in his face and stormed to the side of her ignorant prince charming, thus thwarting the maneuvers of her “clue deficient” swain and seizing the opportunity to meet her prospective match in one fell swoop. I am now the official president of her North American Fan Club. Security threw the guy out on his keister.
And what do I say to the clue deficient, the creepy guys who cannot take no for an answer, with the limited cognitive ability to recognize that sleazy pick up lines really DON”T work no matter what your unemployed, couch cemented older brother with the receding hairline told you. Try and honest and respectful approach, and you won’t end up with Jack Daniels in your face and a bad taste in your mouth from all the proverbial crow you have eaten.