Dress Well and the Women Will Notice You... and Ignore Your Buddies
My friend and I go out every Thursday to this one bar that has a rotating group of bands. My friend and I are your average types of guys. We are both 6 foot. I am about 170 lbs and he is about 160 lbs. We're about the same age. I am one month older. I have been told many times I look just like Ricky Schroeder and my friend, well, looks like himself.
We are pretty darn equal in just about every aspect except interests - I am an engineer, machinist, welder, and he is a finance major (yeah no one's perfect). We both are avid mountain bikers and snowboarders. I enjoy rebuilding antique cars, and he likes to dabble in the stock market but has yet to hit the big one.
Anyhow, one Thursday I decide to step my usual dress code up a notch. I wore a dress shirt with a pair of Kaki Cargo pants accompanied by a pair of Doc Martins. He decided to wear a long sleeved thermal undershirt with a snowboard manufacturer's T-shirt over that, with a pair of jeans that have had the cuffs cut off and a pair of Vans. Two polar opposites in dress.
After about an hour of scoping out the scene at our usual Thursday night haunt, my friend says, "Hey, those two chicks over there are checking me out." I reply, "Well let's just see who they are really checking out." We walk over and introduce ourselves, and you could just see one of the ladies was very into me. And the other was not really interested in my friend, and was more interested with what I had to say.
After 20 minutes of talking the ladies had to leave. The woman I was talking to handed me a card with her number on the back and so did the one that was talking to my friend.
Needless to say my friend was not a happy camper. So I decided to get a round for us. As I was waiting for the drinks, a woman approached me and told me I look good in the shirt I was wearing. I looked at her straight-faced and said, "Ooh, you know exactly what a girl likes to hear." She started laughing and we talked for a while and, son of a gun, I got her number as well.
Now my friend was pissed. We left shortly. Man was that not the quietest car ride home I have ever witnessed. I tried to break the silence by commenting that the band was not all that good that night. His only reply was, "How the hell would you know!"
Now whenever we head out my friend never wears a T-shirt. He also is never dressed when I show up at the door so he can adjust his wardrobe to compete with mine.