Very long story about failed bar pickup due to incompetent wings.
About a year and a half ago, I was in Kansas City visiting some friends. Several of us piled into two vehicles, mine was not one of them.
I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans as well as some Cole Haan leather driving shoes. The t-shirt was one that had the acronym for the law enforcement academy on it. To those who did not know, it was not obvious what the letters meant. There were very small letters within a small symbol that said, but they were unreadable from more than a foot away. My nice, button-down shirt was forgotten in my car.
The bar we went to was stylized very eclectically. Accompanying the contemporary fashion with brushed stainless steel were heavy oak tables and barstools that tied the two different themes very well. Drinks were around $7 for a single Crown Royal, $4 for a domestic beer. The music was played by a live DJ; modern popular music from the top 40, rap, upbeat country, and dance; all spun into remixes with a techno flavor.
My group sat at the corner table. The two couples sat against the walls and the three of us single guys and a single female sat on the outside, toward the interior of the bar. I sat with the bar to my right and a row of similar tables directly behind me. I had to turn slightly to see the bar. The tables were blind to me. Ideal? No.
Two blonde women walked in and did a lap around the bar, situated in the middle of the main floor. When they came around to our table, again, they sat at the table adjacent to ours and directly behind me. They did this even though the table desperately needed clean while adorned with the previous occupants’ leftover glasses.
The more attractive of the two was about 5’4” and appeared to weigh around 120 pounds in very sexy form. She wore a very nice, short dress and some ass-kicker brown thigh-high high-heeled boots. Her hair showed evidence of extreme effort. She was put together like a runway model, everything meticulous and beautiful.
The other woman was slightly shorter and appeared to have a couple of extra pounds compared to the first. She, too, was dressed quite well. While not as attractive as the first, she was still the second most sexually appealing woman in the establishment.
I turned around on my barstool and said in a loud, confident voice, “you look like a prissy bitch”, while looking directly into the eyes of the more attractive one. She replied, “WHAt?” I repeated myself.
It would be an understatement to say I had the attention of the two women, everyone at my table, and several others who were within earshot. Two of my close friends, Chase and Sam, knew there was about to be excellence in action, possibly, in failure.
She looked around, shocked, to the other woman, down, back to the other woman, around to those close by, back at me and said, “My name is Kelly, what’s yours?” while she thrust her right arm forward. “Nik”, I replied, while simultaneously shaking her hand. I then turned back to my group to see their faces displaying awe and bewilderment.
After a brief moment, I excused myself to the lavatory on the opposite side of the room, directly behind me. I intentionally left my drink at the table and smiled at the women as I walked by. They just stared at me like I forgot to put my pants on that day.
After relieving myself, as I walked by their table, I noticed Kelly had moved another barstool beside her (there were only two at the table when they arrived). She said, “Would you like to sit with us?” I gave her a “one minute” finger and grabbed my drink. While at my table, I told the two guys mentioned earlier that I would need one of them to come over when given the signal.
I incorrectly assumed they had half a brain and approached the barstool provided by Kelly.
I sat down and asked, “What did you want?” with a smile.
Kelly replied, “I thought you might want to talk.”
“Tell me a story.”
At this point, she gave me the rundown of her wanting to help children with hearing loss. Following this was her pursuit of becoming a doctor and her writing her thesis on cochlear implants. I had no idea what a cochlear implant was until I put it together and assumed it had to do with aiding in hearing capability. I voiced my belief and she asked if I was a doctor.
She was impressed with my “knowledge”; really, all I did was pay attention.
Since she had invited me to sit with her, I let her lead the conversation knowing she didn’t have a plan. Finally, she asked about me and all the boring, fill in the blank, drivel; most of which, I lied about or minimized to the point of being useless.
When she ran out of ideas, she asked what my shirt “meant”. I told her it was clearly labeled and she should be able to read if she was so highly educated. She leaned in close to read what it said. She then exclaimed, “you’re a cop?!” “Yep, don’t I look like one?” “NO!” “Yeah, I do that on purpose…”
The person who speaks most in a conversation is the person who remembers the conversation as the most favorable.
In order to get the women talking, I said, “Who is this that you don’t think is important enough to introduce to me?” while gesturing to the other woman.
The second woman thrust her hand out and said, “I’m her sister, Jenny.”
“Do you have any better stories?”
Jenny looked at Kelly, enjoying my cheap jab. She then told me she had just had a baby and was married. The ideas of a threesome didn’t subside, at all.
I shook my head and congratulated her on the baby and husband. I added, “I would have never guessed you’d just had a child, your dress doesn’t show it, at all!” with complete sincerity.
Kelly looked down her nose and asked, “Well, do you have any good stories.”
“Yes…there were these two women that came into a bar my friends and I were drinking at. I told one of them she looked like a prissy bitch, which she did, and she invited me to sit with her. Although, she didn’t buy me a drink, touch my leg, or anything. All she did as try to impress me with how she isn’t a doctor, yet…”
“Shut up!” she interjected playfully as she grabbed my leg and gave it a little shake.
She then got up and asked what I wanted to drink. “Crown Royal, on the rocks.”
She left and I spoke to Jenny. Nothing fancy, just chatting her up.
Kelly returned with a round of drinks and moved her stool closer to me before sitting.
I gave my friend the signal, so I thought. After a few subtle attempts, I excused myself and went up to them. I told them I needed one of them to come over when I nodded at them, again and Jenny was theirs.
I looked back to see the sisters whispering and giggling coyly. I waited until they finished and returned to them, alone.
After my return and some quirky discussion, I gave my friend the nod. Instead of one, I got both. Dammit!
I introduced everyone and enticed Kelly to surrender all of her attention to me. This was working well until one of my friends, Sam, engaged her in boring application discussion. I got her back to me and Sam started dancing and singing Britney Spears. After he hit the table, spilling all the drinks, he laid on the ground and thrust is hips up like he was banging a standing woman. Heroically, he managed to not miss a lyric.
Kelly and Jenny were laughing at him, not with him and definitely not with us. Chase, my other friend, saw this demonstration as damning and tried to stop the asshattery. Thankfully, a table was between Sam and I, or I may have knocked him out.
Foreseeing the future, I got Kelly’s phone number and planned to return to my group with Sam and Chase.
When Sam got up, he continued to ruin everything. Chase, in effort to take the negative attention from Sam, decided to brag about how many cheap cans of beer he had consumed during various occasions. Of course, he made it clear he was not an alcoholic; even though his father was. It’s superbly nonsensical hearing a drunk man slur he can polish off a 30 pack and not even feel drunk or be an alcoholic.
I was unable to recover. Chase and Sam had spun all the potential into a veritable sh1t storm.
The women played with their inept toys for a short time longer before they decided to go to another bar. Of course, it was suggested, not by me, that our group accompany them and offer them a ride.
I was outvoted. The rest of the group enjoyed watching Sam and Chase flounder under the illusion of seduction.
At the next bar, Kelly would come around, at times, but Sam or Chase would always come up to us and blow me out of the water offering the next big move to make them look even more stupid. This even happened while she was sitting on my lap in a corner. By this time, we were all drunk.
I was drunk and pissed.
I excused myself from the group and the two sisters and found another woman. The woman I started talking to decided we should leave to stop the interruptions from both Kelly and Sam and Chase which had plagued that conversation.
I got into a cab with her and her friends, a couple of other women. Sam came running outside yelling to at me to come back in the bar. He was caterwauling about some emergency.
Regrettably, I went back inside to find the emergency was I hadn’t told everyone I was leaving. When I went back outside, the cab was gone and I was even more pissed.
I have failed more than most men have tried.
Every woman you pass up is a woman you will never have.