Where do you go to pick up women these days?

Perhaps it’s the white wine I am drinking (the bar opens on Wednesdays here. Most ad agencies run on slightly advanced versions of the dop system). Perhaps it’s the fact that I am single again after nearly nine years of marriage. And perhaps it’s the fact that I was once hit on by a German-Nigerian in my local used book store, who wanted to invite me out to a drink despite my prominently displayed engagement ring.

But where on earth would one go to pick up women in this town?

This question intrigues me in part because white wine is the preferred tipple, not only of Bridget Jones, but slags everywhere, which brings to mind questions about where it is that slags hang out these days. I once wrote about these exotic creatures for the Sunday Times. There, I defined them as women who, being newly divorced from boring accountants, and denizens of Dainfern, suddenly decided to throw aside the traces, spend a lot of money on bustiers at Queenspark*, and sleep with anything with three legs.

Keegan’s near Lonehill was once a favoured spot — Sundays were apparently known as “grab a granny” day — but now that it has been converted into a theatre, the women of a certain age have been forced to look elsewhere for action. So where are they now? Does anybody know? I mean, if I wanted to get a boob job and a fake tan, if I wanted to wear tight jeans that showed off my back-to-front body, with my flat bum and mummy tummy**, where would I go to exploit these things?

Oh, I’ve heard about women who sleep around. I once dated an Iranian who specialised in one-night stands (that said, it was the 90s, Illovo was the place to be seen, and I never did get it on with him). So clearly this sort of thing happens from time to time. But where? Where are these people? How does one ape their behaviour and become habituated to them oneself? Does one drape oneself at the bar and order tequila shooters? (I’ve been hit on in front of the horseracing section in CNA. Is this normal?)

I suppose this is an aspect of Johannesburg life from which I have always been shielded, and about which I know nothing. But it strikes me that, as a marketing strategist, I should at the very least have some insight into the segments about whom I advise my clients. There’s got to be a campaign in this somewhere, and if the press is anything to go by, the (slightly) older woman with needs is a growing market.

I await your answers with much interest. In the meantime, all I can say is, I am glad I am not a single man.

* Queenspark is the brand of choice for cougars. They’re also fond of Jenna Clifford. Which is why Ryk Neethling is used in marketing campaigns for both.
** Lest I inadvertantly start a rumour, I would like to make absolutely clear that at the time of writing, I am childless, and have never had any cause to visit Caesar’s Palace, otherwise known as Sandton Clinic.