Step 4: Flirting
Boy, you're just ... just really going for it, aren't you? Doing the whole thing. OK. You're in luck; I'm actually kind of a flirting expert. Eye contact and sexy sneezes and Fat Albert impressions? And the parts where you talk at each other? That's my jam.
First, pick your target. They say we're most attracted to people who look familiar, which is why we often go for people who look a little bit like us. Save some time by printing out a selfie and holding it up next to every guy in the bar for comparison. Found the boy version of you? Time to turn up the charm. Here's a tip: Offer him a delicious hard candy. It will subconsciously make him think about old people, and old people have cumulatively had the most sex of anyone, because they've been alive and doin' it for the longest.
Alright, you're in. This is where the talking bit starts, which can be tricky. It's a good idea to start by asking questions: Where did he grow up? What's his favorite Beanie Baby? When he goes number two, does he sit down or stand up to wipe? You can really ramp up the heat with some casual body contact; try cupping his elbow or a playful slap to the groin.
You can also just launch into a discussion of your own interests and hobbies. Keep it light! Don't talk about dinosaurs too much. Like, not NO dinosaurs, obviously, but maybe just your favorite two or three advances in paleontology from the last 10 years.
Now you've got a sex target, but what are you supposed to do with it?
Step 5: Dancing
I can't teach you how to let the rhythm take control; you either have it or you don't. (Spoiler alert: I have it.) Just get all up on your new man and wiggle like one of those inflatable car dealership mascots in heat. You'll know you're doing it right when he asks you to please move away because your sweat has soaked through every layer of his clothing. He calls it "disgusting, just unbelievably unpleasant"; I call it drenched in your pheromones.
Sure, he's pleading with his friends to find a new bar and get away from the damp weirdo right now, but as soon as those hormones find their way to his boy-center (spleen? I think it's in his spleen), get used to your new lawn ornament, because he'll be out there with a boombox over his head every single day, hoping you'll let him put his bits up on your bits in whatever way is most agreeable to both of you. Romance, bitches.
Step 6: Making Your Exit
You drank something pink and only marginally alcoholic out of a sugar-rimmed glass, you winked at boys until they tried to put their wallets in your mouth so you wouldn't bite off your tongue during the seizure you appeared to be having, you even marked a man with your lady-musk. I'd say you earned that block of cheddar, you stunning, successful-social-interaction-having Batman of a woman.
Making an exit can be tricky. Due to liquor licensing ordinances and the way time works, you will have to leave this bar eventually, but your friends will still see it as a Lando Calrissian-level betrayal when you finally reach for your purse. Since they probably won't take "Are you fucking kidding me, I've been here for five fucking hours already, what more do you people want from me, Jesus mothershitting Christ" as a viable excuse, have a backup ready to go: maybe you have a cat that needs feeding, or hair that needs washing. If you still live with your parents, all you need to do is check your watch: "Sorry, my parents said they need me home by 1:18 a.m., and -- oh no, it's 1:17 now!"
You're done! You did it. No -- we did it. Once you're safely back at your apartment, you get the greatest reward of all: finally, finally being allowed to take off your bra. Let 'em breathe, ladies. You earned it.