Last night was perhaps the greatest demonstration of how men and women can unite for a common cause. It was supposed to be a night with just the guys but my friend Mark just couldn't say no to his girlfriend Monica. Much to my surprise this was a good thing in the long run.
Far to often someone's girlfriend comes out and single handedly ruins the night. Not Monica. Her goal, brought on by herself mind you, was to see how may girls she could get to make out with me. GENIUS! All I had to do was sit there and let the women come to me.
Within minutes of hitting the lottery of lust jackpot, I welcomed the first installment of a blonde duo with an most appreciated balance of sympathy and clevage. In all fairness, the original storyline being used was that I was getting married the next day and needed some good luck kisses. Here's the catch, no one kisses an engaged guy on the lips. No one but skanks.
Thus, the strategy was altered, for the better. Instead of being engaged, I suddenly became a guy who's fiance left him two days before Thanksgiving to become a lesbian and I was just in denial. Editor's note: fidelity sells in a Barnes and Nobel, pity will always triumph over fidelity in a bar. Much to my delight, once word spread of my romantic tragedy I was given kisses and a jager shot by the waitress. That alone deserves applause.
Monica would not rest there, mainly since I dared her to get ten girls to kiss me. Enter Erin. She was an undergrad at Eastern Illinois. After putting out my cigar, she turned me toward her and told me to how sorry she was about my lesbian ex-fiance. She then grabbed me planted a few dead on and had some more words. Failing to get her to stay she had one more parting gift to make sure I would love again. Erin pulled my face into her clevage and proceeded to shake. A few more kisses and she was gone. To where. I may never know, but we'll always have Malibu.
While in Malibu, I was on fire. Even when I busted out the Spanish the hispanic buslady was digging me. (I am pretty sure I shouldn't brag about that) Malibu was attached to another bar with allegations that even hotter girls were there.
Rumors were true. We tried the same plan and it failed flat out. Women will take shame on you if you are sitting but if you are trying to get sympathy while on the dance floor well Charlie, you are R-O, RONG. I went from kisses to "what's wrong with you?!" "Uhh, nothing I'm fine. Just because I need a 5'4" asain to get me some girls, there's something wrong with me?" "If you are about to judge me, then let me tell you what is your actual pant size.
Somehow I found myself grinding inbetween two attractive girls. It was almost working. Then Brian walked by. My friend went to school with one of the girls, Galena. To make matters more embarrassing, I already tried to pick Galena up four years ago. Just incase you're swift like Columbo, I should tell you it didn't pan out. So I had no choice but to pretend I knew it was her and act like I wasn't trying to pick her up. She saw threw me, again.
Dance clubs will always be a great way to laugh at myself, and consider the honor of involuntary celebacy. Being engaged before my fiance made me a victim of homosexual curiosity can certainly help me meet Mrs. Right-Place, Right-Morals, or even Mrs. Right-there.
Thanks Monica for all your help. I am pretty sure this anecdote insures perpetual bachelorhood.