Sunday, April 18, 2004

Score!! and Abject Failure!!

So there LC and I are, in Fat Sam's and MD has just left with H. in tow. We are near the dance corner, with sort of an eagle's eye view of the place. We instantly notice, besides the cool lesbians, a guy on a mission. He's That Guy®. (As in "look at That Guy!") Anything with breasts, real or imagined, he is hitting on. And failing. Because he exudes 'player' and 'desperation'. And LC and I are enjoying every minute of it. Because it's hilarious to watch his failure.

He finally settles on two attractive girls who are alone at a table. They seem game enough. He introduces and immediately sits down. And he begins the schtick. Mirroring their actions, making fun of other people, the appropriate arm touches (appropriate only in "How to Pick Up Chicks" land, of course). And they are playing along. I began to get bummed out, thinking that once again the player is winning.

Then one of us notices one of the girls make a "kill me" face to the waitress. So we pay a bit more attention. And then we each get eye rolls from them. Now we're having fun, because we're in on the joke, and the player is certainly NOT going to win. Always a good thing.

The night begins to end, last call is made. They guy starts making the move, and we see the girls doing everything in the book to deflect. Pointing to nonexistentt wedding rings, etc. The guy is in pain. I almost felt bad for him. He finally disengages, and they are free to leave. And they walk right up to us.

That does not generally happen. [thus, "Score!"]

So we start conversing and find out that they are sisters, and that the older one dated a guy in high school who I once shot with a BB gun.

[and here's the "Failure!"] I lost my way. We were conversing nicely, and somehow the conversation just lost traction. Multiple opportunities for furthering (not asking for phone #, they talked about getting pancakes, etc.) squandered. Shameful, really. I failed to shift gears- I was working in "neutral charming" mode, when I should have been more inquisitive. To my credit, however, I was battling with the fact that where they said they lived made them dangerously close to being slightly related to me through marriage. Further analysis says they aren't, but that doesn't help me now. Also the one I liked lives in Missouri. Where have I heard that line before?

The only thing in the positive column is that The Player was hanging around the door when we were leaving, and I gave him the cockiest "how's it going" nod I could muster. So at least he learned a lesson.

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