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Triathlete Blog

Intergalatic Love

By September 11, 2007June 8th, 2015No Comments

Saturday afternoon, we were walking to Starbucks with M.

“There’s no guys in this city,” she said. True, single women be warned, Chicago is a dry town. Now I might be a little off but I’ll just say that most of men in Chicago can be summed up with these three things – baseball, bars, and bratwurst. If you don’t like any one of those, you won’t like the men in Chicago.

As she lamented about the current (lack of) dating state, part of me thought it was a damn shame – because she is beautiful, gorgeous, dare I say smokin’ hot. And if she’s having trouble, there’s trouble all around. Sensing this, I thought I’d give her some help.

“Just talk to them,” I said. Easy, right? Worked for me. Talked to Chris so much that I talked him right into liking me, dating me, marrying me, spending the rest of his waking days with me by his side.

She didn’t seem so sure. “What do you talk about?” she asked.

I gave her a few suggestions and the conversation went on. And a few moments later, Chris – who had been silent up to this point – chimed in, “Star Wars,” he said.

Star Wars?

Oh how I wished I loved bratwurst, or baseball, or beer…

“Star Wars,” he confirmed, “all guys like Star Wars, you talk to them about Star Wars and you’ll have something to talk about.”

The oracle has spoken.

M didn’t buy it at first, and honestly neither did I. But seeing that M had just bought Chris one of those stylishly overpriced t-shirts at Saks that had a picture of Darth Vader on it and the caption “Tell Me I’m Your Daddy” and upon receiving it he held up the shirt, got a giddy look on his face and said “Liz when I wear this you’re going to have to call me your daddy”……..well, maybe he had a point.

But still, telling someone to talk about Star Wars is like telling a triathlete to talk about triathlon. Where to begin? Sprint or Ironman? Run or bike? With Star Wars, it’s sort of the same – Episode 1 or 2? Luke or Han? And do you even mention the Ewoks at all?

We walked further down the street, I believe all contemplating the possibility of picking someone up in a bar with a little Stars Wars talk.

We were picturing it in our heads – standing at a bar with your friends, trying to talk some guy’s ear off about Storm Troopers and droids, carbonite prisons, lightsabers, and galatic civil wars. All to this helpless guy you’ve wo-man-trapped at the bar while he’s just trying to get a drink. Then the guy’s friend comes up to you, gives you a rough shove and says “He doesn’t like you” to which you say “I’m sorry” to which he says “I don’t like you either. Just watch yourself. We’re wanted men. I have the death sentence on twelve systems” which honestly frightens you a bit and you think maybe he took the Star Wars a little too seriously, a bit too far. But then one your friends jumps in to the rescue and says “This little one’s not worth the effort”, you thank her for the rescue, and you both walk away.

Knowing that just sending a woman into a bar to talk Star Wars could spell big trouble, I thought then that it might help to give M a starting point for this Stars Wars intergalatic dating plan.

“Boba Fett,” I said, “You start with Boba Fett….just let the name Boba Fett roll right off your tongue and you’ll have him hooked.”

“Boba Fett?” she asked. “Who the heck was Boba Fett?”

Oh dear god. Was she born before 1980? Wait, I had to think about that for a moment. Ok, 1978. No excuse. Seriously – NO EXCUSE for who was Boba Fett.

“Bounty Hunter,” I said. Not just Bounty Hunter but the best Bounty Hunter in the galaxy, faceless enforcer, son of famed Bounty Hunter Jango Fett.

“So what did he wear?” she asked. Let me just say that this question was 100 percent classic M – what did he wear – boots from Saks, helmet from Nieman’s, Dolce and Gabbana x-ray glasses, and toting a Louis Vitton rocketpack on his back.

So what did he wear? Well, grey helmet, rocket pack, flamethrower, armor, kneepads with ROCKET DART LAUNCHERS (could you imagine?). That’s what a Bounty Hunter wears – find that stuff on the Nieman clearance rack.

“What did he do?” she asked. Ok, you’re not trying to date Boba Fett. You’re trying to drop his name so you can get a date.

From there, we talked about other Star Wars characters that you might discuss on way to date. Lando Calrissean? Luke? Yoda? Han Solo?

“Who was Han Solo?”

The hottest fictional character of all time. ALL TIME. He drove the ship. He piloted the Millenium Falcon. He was friends with the Wookie. He saved the Wookie’s life. I think he even spoke Wookie. He survived being frozen to death. He married Leia. The snarky, technologically savvy smuggler in fiction’s biggest intergalactic war!

A few more questions later, it became apparent that maybe the Star Wars pick-up conversation was not for everyone. Maybe it’s only for guys that find wearing Vader t-shirts funny and girls who cried when they realized they lost their little plastic Salacious Crumb figurine at grandma’s house never to be found again (I know it’s somewhere under her bed).

And so, we stopped the dating advice for the day.

But I’ve got to admit, I almost wish I was single so I could take my husband’s advice. Throw a little Max Rebo, Obi-Wan, and Skywalker around the bar on a Saturday night. Could you imagine?

On second thought, I think I’ll stick with my Chris and just settle for calling him daddy when he wears that Star Wars shirt. At least he’s not wanted in 12 different galaxies.

And now, one of the funniest things I have EVER seen: