I have to start this post by thanking any guy who has ever paired up with his buddy as the 'wingman'. While overused and borderline annoying at this point-as far as cliched terms go-I still love employing the wingman when in the hunt for fatted game, or babies, or simply women.
I had a wingman not too long ago who approached the bar waitress that I had picked out for courtship and asked her a question on my behalf. Would she throw a plastic coin in my direction in an effort to recreate the scene from Swingers wherein Vince Vaughn's character gives the 'special lady' a 50-cent piece (only the opposite of that...I guess)? The waitress totally went for it, loved the idea and allegedly laughed heartily at the request. So my winger, whom I will refer to as Kane, beckons for me to join him in a precarious spot of the bar...right in front of the waitress stand. I ask him how it went with her and he says "just stand next to me". So I do. And wouldn't you know, the little dumpling ambles by me and flips a plastic coin in my direction (we were a part of a poker event, so they gave out these commemorative coins for souvenirs) and walks on. Naturally I completely botch the reception and knock the coin away from me, onto the floor next to the waitress stand. I don't bother to go pick it up.
Next thing I know, I'm standing with Kane and a few others and over she walks, looking up at me and smiling--clearly purporting her approval of the whole scene that just transpired. I freeze as always, and Kane interjects with "...ok, let me introduce him since he's clearly mute. This is French, French this is Kim." Hi Kim. Hi indeed. I tell her that she actually hit me in the eye with coin and she gasped. But I assured her that I was only kidding and thanked her for being a sport. She walked on to continue her job servicing patrons.
Some time passes...I make eye contact with her time and again and Kane assures me that she continually looks in my direction and looks me over. I'm pumped at this point because not only is this girl a waitress (excerpt from Richie's morning email about this event: the on the clock waitress pick up is one of the most dangerous and difficult moves in the land and you went after it with your french balls flying high), she's also very cute and just all-around pleasing. I feel like nothing can stop me and eventually the time approaches for me to inform her that I'm leaving but it was nice meeting her and I'd like to call her sometime...so after several minutes of useless pacing and wiping my forehead of collected sweat, I see her leaving the waitress stand. Here's what went down:
Me: "Kim?"
Kim: "Yeah, hi!"
Me: "Hey listen, I'm taking off but..."
Kim: "Oh me too...my shift is over."
Me: "Nice. Well, it was nice meeting you...this is pretty awkward, but can I take you out sometime?"
Kim: "Oh my gosh, I'm so flattered but I have a boyfriend."
Me (clutching stomach, holding in vomit): "You do? But you threw me the coin!"
Kim: "I know...but your friend asked me to!"
Me (beginning to disappear like Marty's brother and sister in the picture from Back to the Future): "Ok, well...have a good night. And thanks again."
Kim: "Good night."
Me: "Go fuck yourself. And why don't you walk into oncoming traffic on your way out." (under my breath of course. Come on now, I'm not that mean.)
Hindsight tells me that when she told me of her shift ending at that moment, I should have asked her if she wanted to grab a drink somewhere. Maybe that would have been a better idea, who knows. But was I duped here? Anyone who saw the glances she was giving me would have agreed with Kane...she was into me and wanted to play. So what gives? Can I maybe get a female opinion on this one?
Conclusion: women remain an inherent mystery to me and I hate life. No, no, not really. Life's cool. I just hate meeting women. Actually I love meeting them. But it's the next step that I suck at.
5 comments:
75% of the time women break up with men because they become interested in someone else, thus as a male one must go about their everyday existence believing that everyone (without a big rock on their hand) is actually available. If this fact was not true most chicks would still be dating their 6th grade boyfriends before they met the older, cooler 8th graders.
Russ, this is why you're you. As I said, you're coming with me to Dillon's next Monday to plant a few more seeds with me.
grow a set French Fry
Frenchy, you are turning into Roger Clemens in your old age. These days he is solid for six innings, sometimes 7, but needs his bullpen for those last two innings to finish the game. You are going to have to turn yourself into a Dontrelle Willis who is good for a few complete games a season. I'm waiting for the fall of the French. No good?
Thanks for the 'grow a set' comment. It had been a good two days since anyone has uttered some form of this phrase in my direction. I will retort to both B and Mr. Anon (you're telling me to grow a set?)...I'm inherently a bad closer. I've made recent strides towards correcting this and I am pretty proud of myself for doing so. So do me a favor and eat a collective bag of shit. I'm one with my aptness to crumble in the 9th inning. One day, someone will find it endearing and that will be ballgame.
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