My wallet was filled with them, ready to be handed to any ladies who caught my eye. When I handed the recently liberated damsel the first one, all I got was a weird look. When I explained that the obviously un-business card was just my way of telling her I was interested, I got some not-so-encouraging feedback: "Well, that's a nonstarter."
I tried the calling-card trick on other women throughout the night. The responses were consistent: "Sketchy as shit," "Thank you, but I'm not interested," "This must be an age thing," and "Depends on the person, and it’s not you." My personal favorite came from a 30-year-old stunner from Seattle who was, unfortunately, just in town for the night visiting a friend.
"If you're handing me a card," she said, "it's going to have to give details of your full sexual history."
After the calling cards yielded no results, I had one last method to try. I set up a weeknight date with a girl I had gone out with a few times before... and then double-checked that my good friend Michelle would be able to make it as well. Yup, we needed a chaperone.