If I know one thing about attractive human women, it's that there's no better, more appropriate retail setting to pick them up in than at your local Whole Foods Market. It's like shooting line-caught fish in a barrel made of reclaimed barn wood, amirite?! But if I know two things about babes -- and, not to brag, but I clearly do -- it's that Chipotle is also chock-full of opportunities for definitely not-creepy carnitas-based carnal action.
To help you find love at one of our nation's most beloved calorie castles, I spent an entire lunch rush spitting habanero-hot game at the beautiful burrito babes who passed through Chipotle's doors. How did it go? Oh, it went. It fucking went, my sweet apostles of ardor & arroz. Here's what I learned.
Dress for spicy sexcess
They say the first thing women notice about you is your shoes, which makes sense, because women always look down when they see me approaching. But in Chipotle, the rules are different. Sure, shoes are still important, in that you need to wear them to avoid getting kicked out.
But don't stop there! You're aiming for a mysterious cross between "unemployed skater," "unemployed digital creative," and "entrepreneur," which, honestly, is really the same thing as those first two. Think about it: Chipotle customers run the gamut from college bros, to office workers, to extremely-hip-and-not-washed-up celebrities like Steven Tyler. You want to borrow styles from as many of these categories as possible, because in a recent study conducted by no one and peer-reviewed by me just now, burrito-loving women find balding, overweight, jargon-spewing egomaniacs extremely, irresistibly sexy. Especially when they're covering their hair loss with a hat. Brilliant!
If you're feeling particularly saucy, consider wearing a name tag that identifies you as one of the Winklevoss twins. No one knows which is which, so they'll just assume you're the other one! [Editor's Note: This does not work.]
Map your Mexican-American mack
You'll need a tightly rolled plan to successfully bag a substantial-yet-convenient lover. I'm here to help. Behold, the Chipotle Pick-Up Map, a disturbingly comprehensive visual guide to the complex geography of your local 'Potle! (Hover over different areas to unlock pro tips!)
Nail your order, earn her attention
Have you heard of peacocking? Of course you have. It's stupid, and dumb. Executing your counter maneuvers with manly flourish & showmanship to attract women's attention is totally different. I promise. To wit:
- Bellow "PROTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIN BOOST-UP!" until an employee realizes you're requesting extra meat
- Ask for extra-gluten tortillas because (as a very laid-back, totally chill guy) you don't believe in "bullshit chick diets"
- Joke with the attendant that you can't have the corn salsa because "it makes your poop look weird," then wink with both eyes (different than blinking)
- Take as long as possible, to demonstrate your ample confidence & self-regard (Quesaritos are ideal for this)
There are literally maybe dozens, or at least a single dozen, of other slick ordering moves that will weaken the knees of Chipotle's fairer-sex fans. But if all else fails you in Ingredient Alley, you've got a secret weapon.
Walk the guac...
Add on some delicious guacamole, even though it costs extra. Yes, this is a tired joke. Yes, people literally make T-shirts about it. Yes, everyone gets the guacamole, and you can even make your own at home because they released the recipe. You're in no way special for this mundane, obvious attempt to project impressions of personal wealth.
Or are you? No. You're not. But you're not getting just one guac...
... take the guac
... you're going to get it all. Literally buy all the guacamole they have available. It'll cost you many multiples of your actual lunch, but all that avocado gives you control. It gives you power. Now you lord over everyone in the spot. According to the vast understanding of human attraction that I've gleaned from '90s hip-hop culture, the only thing ladies love more than Cool James, is power. And guacamole. You are Pollo Suave, and now, you have both.
Get hot & saucy by the... hot... sauce
Alright, at this point, you've got your burrito: double-meat, triple-flour tortillas, spicy salsa but not much because it's actually pretty spicy, and a cubic yard of guacamole. You're headed to Flavor Island, which is where drinks get poured, hot sauces get applied, and consensual sex covenants get made.
The drink/condiment station is all about banter. Don't sweat it, Pollo Suave -- I've got plenty to go around. Never, ever, EVER underestimate the romantic impact of a good turn of Chipotle-themed phrase.
Some guaranteed heaters:
- "Tomati-yo, girl!"
- "Is it hot in here, or is it the extremely hot open grills behind the counter and also have you ever mouth-kissed for sport?"
- "Steak." (Note: must be said in your best Ira Glass talk-whisper voice)
- "Burritos are like sex: I always finish. You single?"
- "Barbaco-no, I have no one with whom to recreate the Unfaithful bathroom sex scene using all this guacamole, which I own!"
If all else fails: start drinking
By now, you are probably swapping sour cream kisses with your beautiful queen of Mexican-American cuisine. Congratulations! The system worked, because it's basically foolproof. But if you still haven't closed the deal over your high-caloric meal, worry not! You've got the trump card. Say it with me now:
"I'll have a beer."
That's right, my dear Pollo Suave, there's hope for you yet, because most Chipotle locations sell booze. You probably never noticed it before, because you're a productive member of society. Or maybe it's just that you're not as perceptive as I. Or because you think it would be "out of place" or "concerning to the point of someone on staff maybe talking to you because, uh, sir, you've been pounding beers in the corner for like a couple hours now... sir?" to drink in a Chipotle.
I may not know much, my dear, love-starved disciples. But I know one thing: there's absolutely nothing wrong with tipping a few back inside your local Chipotle while you wait for the romantic scene to marinate. Nothing at all. In fact, it only helps your odds with the ladies.
Still don't believe me? Well, let's put it this way: I don't call myself Pollo Suave quietly under my breath while weeping quietly in the back of a rented utility van for nothing. Oh hell yeah: you know what I'm talkin' about.