Will you be my Lois Lane? Part 2 October 29, 2006
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Uncategorized.trackback
Note: Part 1 is here. Read it first!
We snagged some barstools and I arranged myself confidently, shoulders back, purse in front of me on the bar, my light-pink tipped hands folded in my lap, enjoying slow sips of wine as I caught up with Single Girl, made plans for the next weekend when Party Girl would be in town and successfully defended myself from The Blackberry’s numerous attempts to pick me up.
He was persistent. Hand on my shoulder. Snappy lines. Invitations to dance – to this I rather cruelly drew his attention down my smooth legs to the heels I’d perched myself atop – they were black and tall and bare, with a mere one-inch strap of leather holding my foot in the shoe.
“I don’t own many shoes suitable for dancing,” I said coolly.
He left me alone for a bit after this. I texted Prom Date, “At the bar. You need to save me.” And then I engaged one of The Blackberry’s friends in a debate about who would maintain control of the Senate in the election and the friendly bet of a drink was wagered.
Then The Blackberry was back, with two women flitting around him, both in costume.
One was dressed as Tinkerbell, with the reddest of red lips to accompany. I recognized her immediately as the woman he’d bent over Prom Date’s lap and kissed weeks before. Her friend was dressed in a mishmash of black clothes with a purple wig messily placed upon her head. A homemade sign taped to her said, “Getting Wiggy With It!”
I was immediately glad I’d opted against wearing a costume to the bar.
The Blackberry teased me about being cold, about not liking him, about having an agenda.
“If I have an agenda, then I would love to see a copy of it,” I snapped back, as I sipped from my second overfilled glass of wine.
He tripped over his words and came up with, “You know what your agenda is.”
“No, I don’t. When you figure it out, e-mail me a copy.”
He motioned to Tinkerbell and started talking.
“The last time I saw her, you had her bent over to make out with her.”
He denied it, but not very convincingly.
He ordered drinks for himself and Wig Girl. They took a few sips and he announced that they should dance, and left their drinks by me, with instructions to watch the drinks for them.
Prom Date arrived and a few minutes later The Blackberry was back, with Wig Girl hanging on him. They retrieved their unscathed drinks and he looked at me.
“You snooze, you lose,” The Blackberry said, shooting a pointed glance at Wig Girl.
“Oh really?” I said, with as little interest as I could muster.
“You have such contempt for me,” he said. “I don’t understand why.”
“You don’t like me because I’m honest,” I said. “And contempt is a strong word. I have contempt for murderers and child molesters. I don’t have contempt for you.”
At this point I’d ordered a third glass, but switched to my own tab, figuring that I didn’t need to mooch off of The Blackberry all night. Single Girl was chatting with a professor who was now bankrolling her drinks. And as I reached for a third overfilled glass of wine, I was starting to feel a little warm and fuzzy. Like I needed a hug and a long slow kiss. Like someone should be taking advantage of my prettiness.
Like me.
So I flipped open the cell phone. The Crier/Good On Paper was out of town. And I landed on The Nurse.
Now, I am not particularly proud of this, but after careful consideration, I decided that the pursuit of hugs was worth a little embarrassment. So I sent him a message.
“Ok, I know we don’t hang out. I am kind of loaded. My place later?”
I regretted it the second I pressed send. Single Girl (who works at the same hospital as The Nurse) chastised me. Half-drunk Prom Date pointed out that even if he didn’t call me back, I’d surely be no worse off – I wasn’t really losing anything by asking.
This sounded reasonable to me.
The Blackberry was back. He had Wig Girl cornered off two barstools away from me. He’d still flutter over to me at times to make a comment. He opened his wallet to show me he’d kept my card – but he unwittingly pulled out someone else’s before he finally located mine.
I turned back to my wine. Single Girl continued talking to the professor.
Not getting a response from The Nurse was grating on my nerves. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t calling me. I couldn’t believe I cared. The Blackberry escorted Wig Girl out, I assumed to take her home with him.
“Finally!” I slouched in my barstool. “I thought he’d never leave.”
A few minutes later he was back at my side.
“Where’s your friend with the Wig?” I asked.
“She went home,” he said. “And I’m saving myself for you.”
And he came up behind my barstool and slid his hands around my waist, pressing his body in closer to me. And he leaned in and – inches from my neck – he began whispering in my ear. I felt his hot breath on my skin and I straightened up in my chair as he told me he was going home and asked in hushed tones if I was going to come with him.
“I’m good here, thanks,” I said.
He left alone and shortly thereafter Single Girl took me home. I straightened up around the house – possibly because I thought The Nurse might call. A few hours later, I woke up sitting in a chair in my living room, still dressed, still tipsy, still alone.
“You snooze, you lose” is a great line, albeit tacky in its use here by Prom Date. Usually it’s better applied when someone overslept and missed out on breakfast, or something like that.
Also, for any guys reading this, notice how Blackberry pushed too hard and ended up getting drinks on his tab with contempt, whereas The Nurse was MIA for weeks and got a booty call text message. Warrants noting.
Ok, “You Snooze, You Lose” was the Blackberry, not Prom Date. Might need to clarify that. It makes it even more tacky, in my mind.
The difference between The Blackberry and The Nurse is that The Nurse did his time. We went on dates. Outside of bars. Like a couple. Granted, he did eventually begin to rely on me meeting him out to see him, which ultimately was the downfall of that situation.
The Blackberry hasn’t even tried. I carry a cell phone and a blackberry with me at all times, meaning I am ALWAYS accessible via phone or e-mail. ALWAYS. He has my e-mail address, my work number, my blackberry number, my IM name and access to MY FRIENDS, meaning he could get my personal cell number. And NOTHING. He relies on me showing up places and then he acts like he’s my best friend and like I am being so mean by not going home with him.
Neither of them is worth my time. But, you know, life happens.
Also, The Blackberry only paid for two of my drinks. I was standing at the bar, credit card in hand, waiting to start a tab and he came in told the bartender to put the drink on my tab before I could pay. And, yeah, I took the drinks. I could have put all of my drinks on his tab, but I decided against that. I figure I’ve made it perfectly clear that if he doesn’t call me, I’m going to ignore his advances. He knows this and if he still wants to buy me drinks, then I don’t feel so bad about taking them.
Oh dear. Do yourself a favor and remove The Nurse’s phone number from your address book. Being able to text him at the touch of a button is far too easy.
you may detect chemistry with the Blackberry, but he so isn’t worth your time. You’re not getting any sincere interest/respect from him. I hope you can get him out of your psyche and look for some fresh blood out there.
I suspect you’ll eventually look back on this time thinking, “Why did I even bother thinking about him???” You deserve so much more than he’s waving before you.
No drunk-texting, girl! It’s just as bad as drunk dialing, only it’s harder to do while drunk.
You ARE worth much more than those two.
No drunk-texting, girl! It’s just as bad as drunk dialing, only it’s harder to do while drunk.
You ARE worth much more than those two.
I just happened to find your blog this weekend and have been reading it on and off for a couple days, and I have to say that I’m fairly certain I’ll be you in five years.
I’m pretty reliant on text-messages, especially where guys are concerned, but I have learned that nothing good comes from them. I learned that one the hard way, but I keep doing it. Masochistic? Maybe.
Nicalyse — Me in five years? For your sake, I hope not. Because being that girl trying to text while drunk at age 26? Not cool.
Also, I am very quickly approaching my late 20s … I have only six weeks left in my mid-20s!
AAAWWWSSOOOOMMMEEEE!!
you are AAAWWWSSOOOMMEEEE! I’m in awe. seriously. bravo!
Ahh, Charming, don’t feel too badly. Some of us are 31 and still use drunken text messages to feel things out. It’s a passive-aggressive girl’s best friend.
Follow Anonymous’s advice and take The Nurse’s number out of your phone. And ignore that little voice that’s telling you to leave it there so you know if/when he calls you! (Not that I would ever use that as an excuse, ahem.)
Or you could do what I do:
Leave them in the phone but put a “DON’T DO IT, GIRL!” or some reminder of why you don’t want to contact them:
Guy1 Needs to grow up
Guy2 Leave me alone
Guy 3 Clingy!
Guy 4 From Oklahoma (kidding, slightly he was obsessive about that)
Seriously, it helps especially when you are so drunk you can’t remember why you broke up or what not.
Or you could do what I do:
Leave them in the phone but put a “DON’T DO IT, GIRL!” or some reminder of why you don’t want to contact them:
Guy1 Needs to grow up
Guy2 Leave me alone
Guy 3 Clingy!
Guy 4 From Oklahoma (kidding, slightly he was obsessive about that)
Seriously, it helps especially when you are so drunk you can’t remember why you broke up or what not.
Oh, I used to do the phone thing. The “Do Not Answer” guy. And I usually put notes if someone is crazy. But yeah, still not willing to delet The Nurse just yet. I have this irrational thought that he’s going to call me …
Blackberry guy is obnoxious. Gah.
It may suck to feel alone, especially when all you want is a hug and slow kiss, but I am in total awe of you for sticking to your guns with The Blackberry. That guy seems more and more sleazy each time I read about him.
and that’s why i have an x-list in my phone where i add symbols to their names in order to make it really hard to drunk text.
so did the nurse reply to you eventually?
Dude Blackberry blows. And I agree that you should totally erase Nurse’s number…although if you are like me you have it memorized and can still text even if erased. Neither of those boys deserve you!!!!
Hiya Charming,
the drunken text might have made you cringe the next morning but hey, you don’t ask, you don’t get, right?
My guess is the Nurse was incommunicado and only got the message hours later, cursing the heavens that he missed his chance.
Definitely keep us posted on any response!
posts like this are why i read your blog!!! i completely understand why the Nurse gets the booty call, but Blackberry gets denied. There is a certain amount of effort required in a guy in order to reach Random Booty Call status. I like to think of it as a sort of dating GPA. you get As for dates, hanging out during daylight hours, etc.The more time you spend with me in a “coupley environment”, the higher your GPA–no matter how long ago we broke up. You don’t get points for hitting on me when it’s convenient for you (ie, when you happen to run into me). Effort goes a long way. And women are pretty good at seeing through guys who are only talking to you out of convenience.
This is why exes are often booty called. they have a higher GPA.
Besides, it’s a process.
i have to give you props, though. the whole breathing on my neck and whispering in my ear pretty much makes me putty in a guy’s hands. you are a tough cookie!
if it makes you feel any better, i did the same thing with Repo a couple weeks ago…randomly texted him for one reason only. that red dress i have just has powers over me. whenever i wear it, i just lose my intelligence…
you AND i both need fresh meat, girl. here’s to the weekend!!!! no more man-recycling!!!! neither one of us is dealing with guys who are worth our time!