NEWS ALERT- Today Patti Stanger became engaged. Mother of all things matchmaking is off the market.
Patti says,
Where to meet men-
“Vegas, Baby! Not only do men love to golf, gamble, and attend bachelor parties here, but many are drawn to the big conventions “
Last weekend my girlfriends and I took a trip to Las Vegas. This was not the trip we would have taken ten years ago holed up at a Best Western eating at Waffle House for breakfast, lunch and dinner. This trip was about having a real adult vacation. We stayed at The Wynn in a double panoramic room – gorgeous! The beds had awesome linens, flat screens flanked the bedroom and bathroom walls AND the pool had saline (water and fake breasts). Friday and Saturday nights in Vegas are a far cry from Minneapolis, but we did our best to navigate the debauchery.
On Friday night we decided to have dinner at a tapas bar and then head to a club. While at the tapas bar we flirted relentlessly with Antonio. Antonio explained that he was a third-generation Las Vegas resident. Being a great service provider he flirted back and started us in a good mood. I had heard from a good friend (male) and from Antonio (our new local guide) that Pure at Caesar’s Palace was the place to go. We walked about six agonizing blocks. My four inch heals that looked amazing felt like they were tearing the flesh from my ankles. I continued on. Caesars was like a mirage in the desert promising alcohol and men.
Caesars was not a mirage. The club known as “Pure” was anything but. I would more accurately describe it as training school for tricks and hoes. The line into the club stretched longer than a boa. It was filled with twenty-somethings in barely-there clothing and feet that didn’t look bothered by four inch heels. After looking at our competition, the wait time, and the fact that we are entirely too good to stand in line for almost anything, we retreated. Leaving Pure was not that big of a deal. It was the knowledge that I had to continue walking in my shoes that were killing me one step at a time.
Thankfully one of our fellow travelers mentioned that Harrah’s had a great outdoor club. On our way we trotted (practically crawled). We arrived and took up refuge at the piano bar. After a few drinks things started to look better. Group consensus said it was time to try the outdoor club. It was pretty cool. The cover band played songs that were danceable and that we knew. Within five minutes I spotted the guy that tickled my fancy. He was leaning up against the bar. It was obvious that he was alone, looking himself, and feeling a little out of place. I said hello and flirted lightly. I then went to the dance floor recreating moves from my Carmen Electra workout video (a.k.a. strip aerobics). He was watching, smiling and it was easy from there. He grabbed two of us on the way back from the ladies room and offered to buy us drinks. Being the best wing woman ever, my friend disappeared back to the dance floor. I was left with Keith. Keith is a 38 year old from LA in Vegas on business. He was 6’5” and gorgeous. He lives in LA and is going through a divorce so long term is not in our future. However, my goal was to kiss a man in Vegas. He fits the bill. We moved to the dance floor and took part in the mating ritual known as grinding. It was fun and innocent enough. But alas, every evening must come to an end (as my feet were officially now bleeding). We said our goodbyes and shared a kiss worthy of an PG13 rating. The End.
Patti says,
Where to meet men-
“Vegas, Baby! Not only do men love to golf, gamble, and attend bachelor parties here, but many are drawn to the big conventions “
Last weekend my girlfriends and I took a trip to Las Vegas. This was not the trip we would have taken ten years ago holed up at a Best Western eating at Waffle House for breakfast, lunch and dinner. This trip was about having a real adult vacation. We stayed at The Wynn in a double panoramic room – gorgeous! The beds had awesome linens, flat screens flanked the bedroom and bathroom walls AND the pool had saline (water and fake breasts). Friday and Saturday nights in Vegas are a far cry from Minneapolis, but we did our best to navigate the debauchery.
On Friday night we decided to have dinner at a tapas bar and then head to a club. While at the tapas bar we flirted relentlessly with Antonio. Antonio explained that he was a third-generation Las Vegas resident. Being a great service provider he flirted back and started us in a good mood. I had heard from a good friend (male) and from Antonio (our new local guide) that Pure at Caesar’s Palace was the place to go. We walked about six agonizing blocks. My four inch heals that looked amazing felt like they were tearing the flesh from my ankles. I continued on. Caesars was like a mirage in the desert promising alcohol and men.
Caesars was not a mirage. The club known as “Pure” was anything but. I would more accurately describe it as training school for tricks and hoes. The line into the club stretched longer than a boa. It was filled with twenty-somethings in barely-there clothing and feet that didn’t look bothered by four inch heels. After looking at our competition, the wait time, and the fact that we are entirely too good to stand in line for almost anything, we retreated. Leaving Pure was not that big of a deal. It was the knowledge that I had to continue walking in my shoes that were killing me one step at a time.
Thankfully one of our fellow travelers mentioned that Harrah’s had a great outdoor club. On our way we trotted (practically crawled). We arrived and took up refuge at the piano bar. After a few drinks things started to look better. Group consensus said it was time to try the outdoor club. It was pretty cool. The cover band played songs that were danceable and that we knew. Within five minutes I spotted the guy that tickled my fancy. He was leaning up against the bar. It was obvious that he was alone, looking himself, and feeling a little out of place. I said hello and flirted lightly. I then went to the dance floor recreating moves from my Carmen Electra workout video (a.k.a. strip aerobics). He was watching, smiling and it was easy from there. He grabbed two of us on the way back from the ladies room and offered to buy us drinks. Being the best wing woman ever, my friend disappeared back to the dance floor. I was left with Keith. Keith is a 38 year old from LA in Vegas on business. He was 6’5” and gorgeous. He lives in LA and is going through a divorce so long term is not in our future. However, my goal was to kiss a man in Vegas. He fits the bill. We moved to the dance floor and took part in the mating ritual known as grinding. It was fun and innocent enough. But alas, every evening must come to an end (as my feet were officially now bleeding). We said our goodbyes and shared a kiss worthy of an PG13 rating. The End.
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