Where to Find Hot Guys in Atlantic City, A Field Guide


(Photo by Caitlin Miller/StyleBistro)

MISSION: Operation Find Hot Guys in Atlantic City

OBJECTIVE: Locate "da clubs" and places where hot guys hang out in Atlantic City. Go to da clubs. Find the hot guys, and talk to them. (Or even just ogle them.)

Thursday, 2:22 p.m.
Location: Starbucks at the Trump Taj Mahal Hotel
Emotion: A mixture of hungover and over-caffeination

Agent Schallon, here, reporting for duty as the Official StyleBistro Hot Guy Expert! Yesterday, my commander (editor) commissioned me with a Code Pink top priority mission: Find hot guys in Atlantic City.


(Photo by Caitlin Miller/StyleBistro)

Wednesday, 7:14 p.m.
Location: Hooters at the Tropicana
Emotion: STARVING

Because this is my first time visiting AC, I had no clue where to start my search for man steak. (FYI, that's Rebel Wilson-speak for "hot guy.") So, Team StyleBistro went to the universal gathering place for dudes: Hooters. Also, we wanted wings. So, there's that.

Somewhere between my sixth drumstick and gigantic House Salad—which in Hooter-land really means chicken with a side of salad—I had a lightbulb. Ask the Hooters girls, duh. I mean, it's their job to chit-chat with sports-watching, beer-loving bros all day.

Me: Hi, I have a really important question.

Tan brunette Hooters girl: Sure hun, what's up?

Me: Okay, so I'm dying to know, where can I find hot guys here?

Hooters girl, obviously ecstatic about this topic: OMG. What day is it? It's Wednesday, okay you HAVE to go to The Pool. It's at Harrah's, and it's the place to go on Wednesday nights. You'll find tons of hot guys there. I promise!

Me: SWEEEET.

So, food babies in tow, we embarked on the first leg of our mission—suit up in our finest club attire! For Caitlin P, this meant loafers. For me, this meant a purple drop-waist dress with an embellished neckline I haven't worn since college, which coincidentally was also the last time I went to a club. Oh, I wore heels, too. Those attract guys, right?


(Photo by Lindsay Schallon/StyleBistro)

Wednesday, 10:02 p.m.
Location: The entrance to The Pool at Harrah's
Emotion: Confused. (Where is everyone?)

Lesson #1 in hot guy searching: Hotties in AC are apparently nocturnal, and do not show their faces or unbuttoned shirts until at least 11:30 p.m. I see this as opportunity, though, to engage in some liquid courage before the guys arrive. To the bar!


(Photo by Lindsay Schallon/StyleBistro)

Wednesday, 10:37 p.m.

Location: The bar on the left
Emotion: Thirsty

Since Caitlin M. is working on a story about the best cocktails in AC (stay tuned!), we rounded up one of the lead bartenders—who wasn't so hard on the eyes, himself—to give us a tasty-taste of some of their finer fruity offerings. A beer-drinker myself, I didn't really know what to choose, so I settled for a "Sex in The Pool."  (Get it?)

Lesson #2 in hot guy searching: Buy girlie drinks. Maaaybe. These were why the first gents of the night approached us...


(Photo by Lindsay Schallon/StyleBistro)

Wednesday, 11:27 p.m.
Location: The bar on the left
Emotion:  Excited. (Guys are arriving!) Disappointed. (They're not cute.)

In an attempt to give an accurate portrayal of exactly what happened during Operation Find Hot Guys In Atlantic City, I texted myself throughout the night. Here's the first series of messages from the dudes who opened with: "So what are those drinks you ladies have there?"


The same fellows also tried to work their, uh, charm (and by charm, I mean creeper-ness) on Caitlin P. with no avail.

Man (mid-50s approx) in a sleeveless plaid shirt: Is that a... hand on your necklace?

Caitlin's necklace, above, for reference.

Caitlin: Yes.

Man: Ha ha, well let's give her a hand, everyone!

Us: *Face palm*

Me: OMG, Caitlin, what did your cousin just text you? It must be really, really important. Let's go look at it over there, far away, in the corner. I think there's better service.

We never did drink the drinks they bought us, which I'm still totally OK with. Sorry, guys.


(Photo by Lindsay Schallon/StyleBistro)

Wednesday, 11:46 p.m.
Location: The bar on the right
Emotion: Perplexed.

The club is starting to fill up, slowly but surely, and there are:

a) So. Many. Booty Shorts.

b) Guys—of the non-hot variety.

c) Canes.



Okay, so there was only one cane. But still, around this time we decided that maaaybe we needed to redefine our definition of "hot." Our new standards? What you can see when you take off your glasses—clothing and muscles.

About 15 minutes later, fishnet-clad dancers in bejeweled thongs began to werk it on podiums located at each end of the pool. This gets the people goin'.


Thursday, 12:17 p.m.
Location: The back right corner by the pool
Emotion: OMG BOYZ.

BEHOLD: The two cutest guys in da club. Meet Luke, a club promoter-cum-drummer for a hip-hop group, and Joe, a student at some school in Philly. (I thiiink Kanye West came on while he was telling me about his school, so obv I started rapping in my head. Oops.)

Can you guess which beat-bumpin' hot-guy-hiring mall retailer they both work at part-time? I know you know which brand I'm talking about.



Was it the abs that gave it away? (That's what gave it away for me, anyway.) I proceed to chat up Luke, who I found out was from MISSOURI—my home state!—and he apparently found this to be, like, the most exciting news in the world, too, because he picked me up.

No, literally you guys—he picked me up. As in, this guy I've known for all of five minutes just put his arms around my waist, physically removed my body from the floor, threw me over his shoulder, and twirled me around and around and around, all while I screamed to the Caitlin's "Take a piiiiiictuuuure!"

I think they were in shock.

So, instead we did a modified reenactment of the scene for a photo op.



Then one of these two guys—I remembered who, but for the sake of the rest of this story, I'll keep his identity a mystery. You have a 50/50 shot, and by 50/50 I mean, it's fairly obvious who—messed up Caitlin P.'s hair...


(Photo by Lindsay Schallon/StyleBistro)

And proceeded to tell, not ask, me: We should have sex.

"Uh, we have to go to the bathroom..."

Thursday, 12:37 p.m.
Location: The front of the pool
Emotion: WTF



Thursday, 12:48 p.m.
Location: The front of the pool
Emotion: Curious (What's that I smell?)

Ah-ha! I found the source. Mike—a soft-spoken Jersey Shore resident and aspiring lawyer who reminded me of Jersey Shore's Ronnie in every which way—had on cologne. Paris Hilton cologne. (It smelled amazing, too!) Did you know that was something that existed? Who knew!



Thursday, 1:03 p.m.
Location: The hallway by the bathrooms
Emotion: Annoyance

Someone is tapping Caitlin P. on the shoulder. She's really into her phone, though. "Eh, forget her. She's in her own world, dude," he tells his friend.

Thursday, 1:11 p.m.
Location: The bar on the left
Emotion: Exhausted. Sore. (Ugh, why did I wear heels?)

The guy who tapped Caitlin P. and his friend have relocated us. We decide to talk to them for a few minutes.



Dru tells us he's owns a valet service, he's a big gambler, and just lost $3,000 that day.

Caitlin: Do you ever take the cars out for a spin?

Apparently, that wasn't a funny question to ask. (He would never for all you folks worried about your Benzs and BMWs, just so you know.) So, I turned my attention to Mike, who's a personal trainer.

With a little coercing, I got him to e-mail me, right there on the spot, this—a photo of himself pumping iron.


(Photo courtesy)

It's 1:23 a.m. That's enough excitement for one night.

Along the way, we picked up some other hot-spot recommendations. On Thursdays, Providence at the Tropicana is the place to be. And Duck Town is a cool, laid-back joint that locals like to hit up.

The goal was to make it out on Thursday night, but after almost falling asleep in my grilled shrimp salad at dinner, I think it was apparent that was all the hot-guy searching I could handle for one week.

Until next time, AC and AC's hot guys. Until next time.

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