A couple years ago — well, closer to 12 — I went out to a bar hopping with a bunch of women I knew. There was Staci, Tracy, Kathy, two others whose names escape me and myself. All of the women were attractive, so I was feeling like a king dingaling.
We decided to bar hop on Solomon’s Island, as it was a great night, there were numerous bars literally next door to each other and it was on the water. Good times were afoot.
By the time we hit the third bar, I was feeling pretty good. Since I was designated driver, I couldn’t get too drunk, but I had plenty of time to sober up before we left. Also, since I was designated driver, the women were buying my drinks. I’m not going to lie and say that it’s not an ego boost that whenever your beer is empty, a good looking woman goes and buys you another one — friend or not. Because it is. It’s not just the fact a hottie is buying you a drink, it’s also the fact that people see it. So, due to a combination of alcohol and ego, yeah, I was doing alright.
As soon as we entered the bar, all of the women I was with went straight to bathroom. I went straight to the bar. I knew what they were all drinking so I went ahead and ordered for them. While the drinks were being prepped, I scoped out the bar. And, for the third time in as many bars, I saw the same two girls and the guy they were with. Coincidence, I’m sure. But it also could have been a sign. My drunk ass was going with a sign, because I had determined at the first bar which girl was with the guy and which was the third wheel. As they were both hot, it was a win/win situation for me. Or so I thought.
Soon after I noticed the threesome, the women I was with came back and grabbed their drinks. Surprisingly, we managed to find a table to accommodate us all, and we put our drinks on the table and asses in the chairs. But, as it goes, the women weren’t doing for more than five minutes before they were ready to hit the dance floor. I declined when they asked me to join them as I was smoking a coffin nail and I was eyeballing up the single girl dancing with her friend and her friend’s boyfriend. I was going to make a move on the girl, but I like to operate alone. Particularly when there’s a chance I might get shot down. No one needs to see that.
And, bear in mind, I normally don’t talk to women at bars. I find pick-up lines incredibly stupid. If a conversation just happens, I’m cool with that, but generally I don’t initiate shit. I don’t ever want to come across as one of “those guys.” I hate those guys.
Anyway, the women I was with hit the floor, I waited a minute or two for them to get involved, snubbed my smoke and headed for Ms. Single to work my magic.
I walked up to where they were dancing and got close enough to the girl to get her attention. “Do you mind if I dance with you?” I asked (or probably yelled to be heard over the music). And yeah, probably not the best line, but I’d rather ask than get up and start grinding her ass like I’ve seen a lot of “those guys” do.
“What?!?” she yelled back.
“Oh, um, no. I’m, uh, I’m with him.” She said, referring to her friend’s boyfriend (who happened to by dry humping the other girl at this point).
“Oh, sure.” I said, a bit agitated. Not so much that I was turned down (while that is never good), but the fact that I was so blatently lied to. Of all my pet peeves, that’s a big one. I don’t lie, I don’t like being lied to. Even by people I don’t know.
So I turned to the girl who was all but giving a bj to Ms. Single’s “boyfriend.”
“I imagine you are with him too, huh.” Not so much in a desperate way, because by then I didn’t want anything to do with either one at this point. It was more of a sarcastic “I know you are lying to me” way. Looking back, that was petty. Or, rather, pathetic. Something I wouldn’t say now. But I’m digressing.
“Yeah, I am.” she said, and meat head smiled, like he was the man. Okay, cool guy.
I headed back to the table, not quite fuming, but definitely a little ticked. I needed another beer and another cigarette because my mood was swinging fast and I had hours to go before we left. When I got back to the table, Staci and Tracey were sitting down talking. And they had seen what happened. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what was said, but I filled them in anyway.
“Oh fuck them bitches.” Tracy said.
“You want to get them back without doing anything?” Staci asked.
“No. I’m not resentful she said no, I’m just pissed she lied to me. She just could have said no.” I said. “No need to get her back.”
“C’mon, Stewie, you’ll see.” Staci said and she and Tracy led me to the dance floor.
Women have are amazing in the way that not only do they know how other women think (obviously), but they know have an unspoken psychic ability with each other when they are making a plan. Because as soon as we hit the dance floor, all the women I was with started getting freaky all over me. My mood quickly went back to good. I mean, how could it not? I was in heaven.
At one time, Tracy was all up on my backside and Staci was all up on my frontside — the women were rotating shifts — and Staci leaned up and whispered in my ear, “In a minute, turn yourself around to face Traci, but be subtle. The girl you asked to dance now can’t keep her eyes off you.”
I waited a minute or two and did what Staci told me too, I turned, or rather, danced around. And cold busted Ms. Single watching me. She tried to play it off, but it was too late. A couple beats later, she looked over again. Her expression was a mixture of uncertainty and surprise. It made me want to smile, which I did — at her — and I turned away.
Not long after that song was over we all left the dance floor, gathered our shit, and hit the fourth bar. And a fifth.
At the sixth bar (I think it was a sixth, we might have gone back to the first, my memory is fuzzy on this), we were all on the dance floor cutting a rug when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, and to my surprise, there was Ms. Single.
“You want to dance?” She asked.
“What?!?” I said back. Oh, I had heard her, but I wanted her to say it again. And she did.
I looked over her shoulder, and sitting down watching were her two friends.
I gave them a big grin, looked at her (still smiling), and said, “No. You have your boyfriend you can dance with.”
She didn’t say a word. She just turned and walked back to the table, where I got a dirty look from the guy. They soon left.
I don’t think I will ever understand why, exactly, she changed her mind. I mean, I know why, but I don’t know why. With guys, it’s different. With guys, if a girl asks them to dance, and they say no, then they see the girl dancing with another guy, we don’t give a shit. Her dancing with someone doesn’t change our attraction to them.
But with women, who knows. I’m sure I could take a seminar on what was going on in her mind that night. And I’m just as sure I would come out of said seminar just as confused as I was going in.
Either way, I’m glad I was with the women I was with. They turned a potentially shitty night into an amusing memory. Albeit a tad petty.
But I can live with that.