Misadventures in Dating

We’ve all had fun out of town. You know, you hit the airport and get instantly horny, you get to the hotel, check in, jerk off, call your buddies and hit the town. There’s a whole bar full of chics you’ve never met and you are, “like, so unique.” You are a novelty. “Yeah,” you say, “I’m from New York. I’m only here for a couple of nights.” That’s right, you are drinking on the expense account, buying up the bar, sticking your finger in girls asses on the dance floor. It’s kind of like heaven.

But here’s the thing. Trust me. It is only funny where you are.

If I get one more phone call from one of my boys who are out of town and partying, I swear I will make it my life goal to fuck their girlfriend and make them cry. Stop doing it! The last fucking thing I want is to be sitting at home, watching TV, and to have to take a call at midnight from a bunch of screaming fuckfaces – buddy included. Yes, buddy, you are a fuckface. You know why?

• If you were having as much fun as you say you are, you wouldn’t have time to call me. You are obviously trying to get credit for having more fun than you actually are. Yeah, man, I know you’re a fun guy, that’s why I hang out with you, now stop talking to me and go grab a teenager who will let you shit on her chest. Take pictures. Then we can look at them together and laugh over a scotch, once you are back.

• Cell phones suck. Listen, douchebag, imagine how loud you are screaming at me so I can hear your voice over the music. Now imagine how that sound played through a tiny little cell phone speaker. I can’t hear you, or your idiot drunk friends, or the girls who you claim are all up in your ass. You sound like Stephen Hawking on crack. Give it up.

• I’m a terrible actor. After faking a laugh three times I am all spent. For the rest of the time you are on the phone with me, just know that I am filling out my tax forms, paying bills, or clipping my toenails.

Aside: There are two very small exceptions to this rule. It is absolutely OK to call me if you have been invited to go party with a bunch of chics for the weekend and you want me to book a ticket. Failing that, I’ll put up with the call if one of the girls you have met is coming to NY and loves sharing.

Evidence can be photos , blood or shit on your underwear, or a used tampon. Nothing will bore me more than your lame-ass voice at midnight. Yes, you are my friend, but I have only one thing to say to you: Go fuck yourself.

Advice: Keep it to yourself. Have your fun, and come home with stories and, preferably, evidence.

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Spot: Carvery at Ulysses
Time: 8P.M.
Company: A co-worker

After a pretty intense day at the office (from 11AM to 3PM) my co worker and I get to Ulysses, figured, its the kick off to St Patty’s, how can I possibly pass up on this much free tail.

We made our way to the Carvery side, to ease into a drink or 2 and there she stood at a bout 5′8, killer body and a smile to kill for. Oh and she was standing and talking to some douche.

Over the next 25 to 30 mins, I forget my co-worker and lock eyes with her every time it seems she is trying to make an escape.

If anything the one thing I have learned is always pay attention to detail. It has been about 15 minutes since she was down to ice in her glass and the douche was also down to a few tears worth of beer.

Side note: Douche Mc-Douche stood about 5′8 a bit tubby and of course nothing in comparison to my stature. The guy lacked total confidence, shoulder permanently shrugged over. And he wore khaki pants with a plaid shirt. Seriously? I thought the lumberjack look went out with the 90’s and high waisted pants.

Looks aside, I have seen some ugly assed mother fuckers nail some prime rib. Its all about your confidence, posture and well you cant be overly annoying or self absorbed as reader of this blog once told me in her attempt to shatter my ego.

Doing what any other manly man would do. I walked over to my favorite bartender, asked for an Amstel Light. Nudged my buddy on the shoulder and said, 100 bucks I take her some within 15 mins. Always up for a bet, Goose agreed.

As I made my approach, eyes locked on, she shifts her entire body to my direction, not just a hair toss or a twist of her torso, the full monty… With her friends watching to see if I crash and burn.

With the sly smile I was born with I said;

Hi, I think your friend over here needs a fresh drink while giving her the bottle of Amstel to give to him.

With a wink she accepts the bottle on behalf of her catch and I turn to walk away.

Before I can even turn around to make my egress her entire squadron erupts with laughter and I feel a tug on my elbow. With a nod of my head she joined my friend and I at the bar, where I never let her get to the bottom of a drink without having another waiting.

Side note 2: Never let another man offer a chic drinks while you are talking to her. Keep her lubricated, but don’t gt her drunk.

Within 30 mins I had her in my place.

I may have lost the money, but I won the prize…

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