Got to witness one of the best pairings of pilot/wingman action in years the other night. These two had a system and they worked it beautifully. The poor girl didn’t stand a chance. The pilot acted like the nicest guy you’ve ever met. The kind who has been out of relationship for a while and is open to the right woman. The wingman acted like a gigantic douchebag. The kind who oozes charm and womanizes as a point of principle. Turns out the pilot is the womanizer and the wingman is a really great catch.
My policy on wingmen is simple: If you have to use a wingman to approach me, you don’t deserve my time. I realize that approaching a woman or a group of women can be intimidating. We are, after all, fierce and vicious creatures of the night. Bloodthirsty, soul-crushing, life-destroying vamps. I get it. We’re scary. Bring back up. I can totally respect the “power in numbers” idea. It’s why girls always go to the bathroom together.
However, I’m only human and I deserve a bit more respect than that. And, ultimately, that’s what it feels like to me; a slap in the face. You don’t have the balls to strike up conversation with me one-on-one and you expect to be worthy of my attention? You expect me to take you seriously as a man? Boy, please.
And ladies, put your fangs away and give the guys a break.
My name is Chelsey Mick, and this how we critique wingmen, and wingwomen.