Last night a Swedish man taught me a lesson.

No. Ew. Not that kind of lesson.

I was out with friends for a drink or four at The Spotted Pig. It was, like always, a weird mix of people sporting hard-to-place accents and clothes that look vintage but are not.

I had just been to the impossible-to-get-used-to co-ed bathroom (Ally McBeal-style, not single stall) where I met a man who claimed to be the piano player at the Waldorf Astoria. True story.

• Me: Oh, sorry, I’m in the way of the hand dryer
• Liberachi: It’s fine actually – I’m not supposed to dry my hands with those.
• Me (taking the bait): Hmm, why’s that?
• Dude I’m in the bathroom with: Well I’m a piano player and that air is bad for my skin
• Me: Interesting, makes sense. Where do you play?
• Probable liar: The Waldorf (sticks out wet hand for shake), Astoria. I’m Marcus.
• Me (I mean…): Right. Did you want a towel? I’m standing in front of those too…

After that I needed another drink, so I walked over to the bar and started shuffling my way through to get the ‘tender’s attention. I can’t recall what kind of look I had on my face at the time. Probably some combination of I’m drunk/god I want a burger/I wonder how Hillary’s speech is going/do I switch to beer now or stay vodka straight through/Fuck these uncomfortable shoes. Whatever it was, it didn’t come across as welcoming to the Swede standing next to me.

• Male version of Claudia Schiffer: What is this look you have?
• Me: What, huh, me, oh, hi, what?
• Him: You know flies are caught with sugar.
• Me (seconds from getting the bartender’s attention, finally): Huh? Oh. No, I think it’s actually honey.
• Him: Hah. There it is again. This bad aura.
• Me: Did you just insult my aura?
• Him: I’m Nick from Sweden. And I just think if you looked happier you would do better.
• Me: Mmm. I’m Jessie from here. And do better at what?
• Him: Attracting men

Huh, I thought. Constructive criticism on my skills at attraction in real-time from an un-biased observer. ]The writer in me found this interesting. He had a point. Smiling people seem happy, full of life, and inviting. But it was his citizen Hitch approach that interested me most. What if people just did that? Just walked up to other people when they saw bad behavior and provided helpful suggestions for improvement.

“Hi, I couldn’t help but notice you trying to get that girl’s attention by telling very loud, bad jokes. I’d like to recommend you instead walk over and ask her if she’d like another drink. Also please lower your voice.”

And while we’re at it why not throw in little verbal gold stars here and there to let people know they’re doing a great job.

“Excuse me. I just wanted to let you know that they way you boldly walked over to that group of guys and asked the one if he was a Twins fan was really excellent. Good use of context clues considering the Twins hat and expert segue with the fact that your Dad is from St. Paul. You’re an inspiration to us all.”

Bars could be like happy places of learning and growing through helpful lessons and well-positioned praise – like mini kindergartens but with alcohol and breasts.

Then the girl in me kicked it.

• Me: Well I’m not trying to attract men right now, however if I was, the ones I would be looking to attract would want me for who I truly am, and, further, would see my two second not-even-really-a-frown frown as a sign of character. Plastic smiles are for Los Angeles and, apparently, Sweden.
• Him: You are just like all girls from New York.

So maybe we’ll just go with the verbal gold starts thing…