Last spring, The Wife took my oldest (The Boy) to a large theme park and left me behind with the baby (The Prodge). I immediately flipped The Prodge to my mom to watch during the week. This left me home alone with no real plans except sit around and drink many beers, except for Friday, which I had made plans with my boss to go out to dinner and then for a few beers. We purposely work late so that we don’t get too early of a start and drive in to Town for dinner at one of the brew pubs. We immediately throw back a platter of sample beers and we start wising off checking out every girl in the joint. After dinner, we go to a much nicer restaurant in the complex to get our parking validated and to scope out that scene. Way too upscale for us, we drink our $6 Heinekens, get our parking validated and move on. We hit an old bar I used to frequent in my younger days. Of the 5 people there, 1 is a very unattractive girl surrounded by 4 guys, we don’t even order a round and just move on to my old favorite, that no longer exists. We stroll back to another local spot to regroup, check that scene and determine what to do next. As usual, there is no scene there, and we are left to the debate.
Boss: So should we call it a night?
Me: I don’t know, it seems so uneventful, like it doesn’t even count as a night out.
Boss: So what do you want to do?
Me: Let’s try one more spot, if it blows we walk, if it’s not, we have a good time.
Boss: Sounds like a plan
And with that, we start down the yellow brick road to hell.
We stroll back to the complex area and hit the Irish pub, which is having a very bad cover band play. As we are walking in, I see a really cute girl look at me from the corner of my eye and looking at me and hear her say ‘…like him.’
I stop dead in my tracks and ask her, ‘I’m sorry what did you say?’
‘I said ‘there are a lot of really cute guys here tonight for me to flirt with, like him.”
Bingo we have a winner.
We chat for a few minutes but Boss has this uncanny ability to ruin it by trying to incorporate her friend in the conversation. I see no need for me to converse with the friend, when she’s not as cute as the Bar Fly Skank I’m talking to and isn’t showing the level of interest as BFS is. After a few minutes the conversation dies down and we move on.
We turn our attention to the rest of the bar, and determine that we are not only the only heterosexual men in the place, I determine I’m the best looking man in the place and that Boss is only here to make me look even better, and buy me drinks, which he does and starts kicking them into gear. As we start the internal debate again on whether we are in a happening place or not, BFS comes by and starts to chat again. She is unattended baggage at an airport, she’s got to be picked up.
The three of us are chatting when I send Boss to the bar for another round for us all. This is our first chance for alone time.
BFS: So what do you look for in a girl?
Me: Well to be honest, I like them young.
BFS: Really. How young?
Me: Well I know 12 is wrong, but there’s something about 14 that is just so right. How old are you?
BFS: 14, don’t tell the bartender.
Touché. The gloves are off now bitch if you think you can hang.
The Boss comes back with the beers and I whisper in his ear, ‘Get ready to laugh your ass off, this girl will be running away screaming soon.’ All he does is smile, I have an audience and I’m happy. Game on Bitch.
As the night continues and she is still hanging with us I think I have my chance.
BFS: So do you really like young girls?
Me: Of course but I have to admit I really love retarded girls.
BFS: Retarded girls?
Me: Yep, there’s something about the big eyes.
BFS: But I don’t have big eyes
Me: Well nobody’s perfect
Fuck, and she refuses to admit defeat and run screaming. I’m going to have to pull out all the stops, there is obviously something wrong with this girl. Somewhere around here we start doing the infamous drunken make-out at the bar. I don’t know how it happened but it seemed to only encourage her. At one point in between pulls of my beer I utter the now classic:
Me: If things go well I’m going to leave you a headless corpse on the side of the highway
BFS: But my head is one of my best parts
Me: Well I plan on finding out soon enough
Yet she still won’t run away screaming. What is wrong with her? Despite the Boss’ best efforts (he really did try his best, but he was like a security guard at a Filene’s Basement wedding dress sale, he had no shot) her friends got wind of me and suckered her outside for a smoke. This left me behind with the Boss to determine our fate. We debate for the next 20 minutes on whether or not she’ll be back. Eventually we are convinced that her friends have finally liberated her from the situation which depresses us both because we were at least having a very good time over the whole thing. Still drunk, I head to the bathroom. As I’m fighting the crowd I see the cute little BFS surrounded by a SWAT team of skanks working the perimeter to protect her from me. I subtly work my way to the perimeter, make eye contact and she immediately breaks their defense and gets to me. She tells me that they are taking her to a different bar, a cop bar and she’ll meet me there. Excellent. In case things change she asks for my cell number which without thinking I give her. She immediately calls me so I have her number. We are all set. Her friend looks at me pissed. Fuck her, I can’t help it if I’m so fucking charming.
I hit the head and get strange looks from the other guys in there because I’m the only one giggling. I make my way back to the Boss and he informs me that she hasn’t returned and that I’ve been ditched. I reply, ‘that’s funny, I have her number and we’re meeting her at a bar down the street. Get your drink on and let’s hit the fucking road. There’s Poon to be hit tonight.’ I should write greeting cards.
We make the walk to the Cop bar and work on our game plan. He has accepted the fact that though I am very entertaining, I am salt to the fields, and though I’m quite entertaining to the BFS, he has no shot with her friends and will play the role of the guy on the grenade in order to help me out. Sadly, this isn’t unusual. My game has been described as the ultimate in cock blocking for any of my team mates. What can I say, it’s like going to war, I can’t guarantee we’ll all be there at the end.
We arrive at the new bar and immediately case the joint looking for the girls. Nothing. It’s packed with various assortments of riff-raff because of some shitty cover band is playing and it is wall to wall people. I start throwing back yet another beer as we assess the situation. We are convinced that once I was found and given the escape plan, back up plans were initiated and the cock blocking continued. I determine now is the time to make the last ditch effort and call the number. As I’m walking out of the club to call her and escape the noise, I open the door and with perfect sitcom timing I’m looking at her. Damn I should have been on Full House or something, I’m that good.
I go to the bar with BFS and her friends accept the fact that game over, I win. They leave her to my care and give up. We continue to talk and drunken make out, I continue the uncontested groping because, well, I can. We have a very intense debate over children’s movies where I proclaim THE MUPPET MOVIE as one of the greatest films of all time. She felt LAND BEFORE TIME was a much better film. I not only tell her that her taste in cinematography is horrendous, but I can’t watch dinosaur movies because they are usually naked and make me feel inadequate as a man. Somewhere around here, I’m not sure how it started but all I know is I uttered the phrase: ‘I didn’t call you a retarded whore, I called you a stupid whore, there’s a difference.’
I think I got slapped for that one, but she then kissed me again, and like her friends, I have to accept defeat and live with the fact that I’m hooking up, despite my best efforts. Then it happened…
BFS: So where do you work?
Me: (Full name of a large company known in the high tech industry)
BFS: Oh (acronym of said company). Cockblocking Friend works there. Hey CBF, these guys work with you, come over here.
A bomb could have gone off and I wouldn’t be able to hear it over the sirens and alarms going off in my head. I excuse myself and as I’m walking by the Boss, I make eye contact and say very quietly, ‘We need to get the fuck out of here now.’ Unfortunately, there is no back exit out of the club and I have to walk back to the group. Last call breaks up the gang and the Boss is still trying to seal the deal for me by asking about going out for coffee. Fucking idiot. I just want to run like hell and he’s still got sights on me hooking up. He obviously has not been paying attention. I give her a kiss good night (it’s what gentlemen do) and we go on our merry way.
On the walk back to the cars:
Me: So honestly, I’ve told you some of my stories before tonight, you didn’t believe any of them did you.
Boss: Nope, I thought you were talking out of your ass.
Me: And after tonight, do you have any doubts?
Boss: Nope.
Me: I have an uncanny knack for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. I need to sober up.
I get home at 3, go to bed and wake up inexplicably at 7. As I’m laying in bed, recounting the events of the night before, I start laughing, there is no way last night happened the way I remember. It’s impossible. And again, with sitcom timing (fuck you Bob Saget) my phone goes off and I receive the following text message:
“It was really nice meeting you last night, we’ll have to get together soon and watch the land before time.”
I can’t make this shit up, I’m not that funny.
