Sorry, fella, but you gotta go where the odds are with you. You're unlikely to luck out at a bar, where drunk dudes outnumber sober ladies by about twelve to one, and where even the best pick-up line is so obviously a cry for help. Plus, what does a respectable woman want with a drunk? She's looking for a man with strength, balance, focus and a handlebar mustache, who understands the power of breathing, the power of, ahem, the body/mind convergence. A yoga studio, where women outnumber men by twelve to one, is the perfect atmosphere for a casual smile and simple conversation. At big classes, as many as 30 people cram into a room, get all strong and sweat, and commence to pose. We've been in classes that size and been the only man. After class, the eye contact and soft smiles have poured forth like gentle rain, and the level of mellowness is such that a sincere, sleaze-free compliment -- "nice headstand!" -- is greeted with openness rather than wariness. Of course, you have to work. You're not gonna be able to waltz in once, leer all session and then get some action. There's nothing sadder than a fat-ass yoga creep. The goal is internal balance, not external lovin'. But if you're sincere in the practice, you may have the ladies lining up to do headstands for you.