So Then She...

A friend, newly transplanted to New York, was lamenting about her latest dickweasel of a suitor (She doesn’t have great taste in men.) I asked where they met. She named a popular nightclub in Chelsea and said he worked there, prompting the rest of us around the dinner table to emit a low groan. As she stared, taken aback, someone offered her particularly sage advice: “Don’t date guys who work in clubs.”

That’s because the men who staff New York’s nightlife venues – elite or otherwise – can be neatly filed into basic categories. And none of them are acceptable for romantical material. In no particular order, here are the male archetypes at play inside the club.

The Owner

Description: Commanding. Largely ruthless. Will always make you wait until done typing on one of several Blackberries before acknowledging your existence. Upper-echelon club owners come in pairs and there’s a “nicer” one, who is never attractive, and an attractive one, who is the ultimate douche.

Common phrases: “I can’t remember if I fucked that girl…” “I’ll see you in Ibiza this summer.” “We can totally go to [various exotic destination]. We’ll take my boy’s jet.”

Why he’s no good: Business comes first and if you want to see him before 5am and/or sober, be prepared to sit through boring business dinners, stand by his table at the club five nights a week and jealously wonder how many of the models – who are always around - that he’s banging. (At least two of them.) He’s a perma-player who can’t be tamed or forced into settling down. Plus, those “work” trips he goes on with his best clients? They’re all actually with topless models/celebrities/prostitutes on a yacht somewhere tropical.

The Investor

Description: Picture Matthew McConaughey’s ‘Dazed and Confused’ character as aging, balding man with sun spots and you’ve got a good handle on what these guys are like. They keep getting older; their sexual partners stay the same age: too close to high school for comfort. The investor has more money than the owner and, subsequently, more power.

Common phrases: “I have a daughter about your age.” “My third wife used to [insert activity]” “I’ll drop you off. My driver is just around the corner.”

Why he’s no good: Aside from not having m/any shared interests with this man, he thinks the songs you like to dance to sound like “dreadful noise,” and he retires early in the evening. Plus he’ll either drop dead from complications due to an overindulgent lifestyle or you’ll eventually age out of contention. The cutoff is typically 25.

The Promoter

Description: Young, slick, former models, these guys are tasked with corralling beautiful people who comprise the club’s “image table.” They try to get rich guys to spend a lot of money to party with all the beautiful people who – gasp - just happen to be dancing wildly at a nearby table! At the end of the night, he’ll doggedly try to nail the hottest thing standing.

Common phrases: “Your girl can come, but she has to be taller than 5’6”.” “She’s ugly.” “She’s hot.” “She looked legal.” “Who wants E?” “I love this guy/girl/party/song!”

Why he’s no good: He’s initially alluring because of the perks that come with his job. Free dinners, concerts, limo rides, and the fact that you’ll never have to wait in line again are among those bonuses. But girls are viewed as a commodity to him. He needs a certain number walking in behind him to make his bosses happy, so he doesn’t care about you personally; just that you didn’t bail on him and throw off the count. He’ll whisper all the right things in your ear the night you meet. After you fuck him, you’ll be lucky to get him to respond to a text. That’s because he’ll be too busy trying to bang your friends.

The VIP Host/General Manager

Description: With their crisp threads, wide ties and the Secret Service-style earpiece snaking down into the back of their immaculate suits, they look like the epitome of power. That, and the fact that they do control where you sit, whether or not you pay for your drinks and just about everything else inside the club.

Common phrases: “Let me buy you a drink.” “No, only the first bottle was comped.” “Point out the girl you like. I’ll see if she’ll fuck you.” “You coming back tomorrow, buddy?”

Why he’s no good: These guys are like full-on Monets. From far away, they’re okay, but up close, they’re a big, old mess. They’ve slept with at least three of the waitresses they manage. They’re trained to be nice, so you never really know where you stand with them, since they’ve perfected the faux smile. They rely on an unwritten cache of phrases designed to make the listener feel like the most important person in the world. You’ll catch him repeating something he told you over a romantic dinner to a client and wonder what he loves more: his job or you.

The Bartender

Description: He’s scruffy, but hot. You can tell he’d smoke unfiltered cigarettes if they were still readily available and you hope he has some artsy tattoo adorning his stupidly well-sculpted body. That stubble he’s rocking never gets old to stare at and, best of all, he’s in charge of getting you wasted. Charm him and the only thing between you and free drinks are his ethics.

Common phrases: “This one’s on me. ‘Cause you’re so cute.” “Want to dance on the bar?” “Want to see the beer cooler?” “My boy is throwing an afterparty. Come with.”

Why he’s no good: He often lives in a hellhole of an apartment, doesn’t have a day job and “aspires to” something, like being a model or an actor or a blogger or a daycare center owner. (Kidding. He would never do that.) Hook up with him and you’ll likely go into his phone as “Wednesday” or whatever night of the week you got it on. And there will most definitely be a “Thursday,” “Friday,” and a “Saturday.”