little fluffy dogs: a field guide to flexers, charmers, and ostensibly sensitive types part I

It is common knowledge that men use cars, dogs, and cute children to pick up women. As someone who has lived, well, everywhere, I have found that the preferred tactic of entrapment depends less on a man's personality and more on his geographical location.

Now, a thorough treatment of my observations over the years is beyond the scope of this blog, so here is the abridged version. Print it out, fold it up, and keep it handy.

Sure, there are lots of men in Las Vegas. Most, however, can be ruled out as a potential threat since 9 out of 10 of them will stumble their way to a departing plane by late Sunday night. There is, though, one peculiar subset of men indigenous to Las Vegas to watch out for--the 25-year-old millionaire, also known as flexers.

What separates this man from the 25-year-old millionaire in New York is that his last name is not Waldorf, Carnegie, or Vanderbilt. And, what separates this man from the 25-year-old millionaire in Los Angeles is that he is not an actor --at least not in the strictest sense of the word. (The comparison to the 25-year-old millionaire in Cleveland remains N/A.)

Why is it that there is a disproportionate number of 25-year-old millionaires in Las Vegas? The answer is two-fold.

First, that glittering, self-transformative arch of the American Dream is alive and well in Las Vegas. With its vast amount of open space and unmarked territory, Sin City lends itself to the building of empires and hence produces unlikely emperors out of former valets and bag boys. Vegas is, arguably, the last great American frontier, and it is not nearly as tricky to maneuver your rags-to-riches dreams there as it is in older places where the glue has already dried and nepotism has long ago wrapped its stubborn tendrils around the corporate ladder.

Second, upward mobility in Vegas is mostly a matter of the intersecting vectors of space (as mentioned) and speed. Things move so quickly in Vegas that no one really notices that YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING until he or she already works for you. So, as can be imagined, this is a huge advantage for the coat boy* at The Spearmint Rhino who wants to start a GPS-activated umbrella company in the middle of the desert.

For all would be 25-year-old millionaires, there is the added incentive of the relentless sun, which provides the perfect opportunity for all their new bling and flash to shimmer and shine away.

So, what is the defining characteristic of the successful, young man in Vegas? It is the flagrant display of wealth and flex. Taste does not factor in, as there has been no time for refinement. The nouveau riche are de rigueur, and subtlety in Vegas gets you nowhere--not even past the doorman at Lavo.

Other tip offs include

1. The entourage, which consists of the Personal Assistant, the Personal Assistant's Assistant, the Housekeepers, the Club Host (a member of a peculiar subset himself), the Opportunistic Friend(s), the Girlfriend (a stripper, a former stripper, a Maxim cover girl, a former Maxim cover girl, or a personal trainer), the Personal Trainer (separate and distinct from the Girlfriend who is also a personal trainer), the Plastic Surgeon, the Dog Walker (regardless of the existence of a dog), the Contractor (House #1), the Contractor (House #2), the Stylist, the Personal Shopper at Versace, and the Annual Halloween Party Planner.

2. An inaccessible Facebook Wall due to discrepancy in your Wall's tax bracket compared to 25-year-old millionaire's Wall's tax bracket.

3. Strict adherence to daily horoscope advice and fervent interest in hair gel made out of rare jellyfish stingers and imported lotus leaves.

Coming soon: Given the geography of the streets in Manhattan, men face two challenges.

*let's stop and think about the absurdity of the very existence of a coat room inside a strip club located in the middle of the desert. See what I mean.