Wednesday, November 23, 2011

My astonishingly shitty response to the first girl I've liked in forever

Several months back I started frequenting a club that is rather skeevy.  It's the kind of place where the girls are poorly dressed and often very direct.  As in, grab your arm and put it on them direct without asking you.  I go dressed to the nines.  My good suits, my good cologne.  I drink top shelf liquor.  I attract attention easily.

In other words, I've been trolling for ass lately.

Now, there are certain people that the greater forces at work in universe do not find amusing.  I am one of those people.  How so?  Let's say the universe sends you to a rather slutty dance club.  And in that dance club there's one cute waitress who likes you.  And you end up thinking about her all the time.

This waitress, who we're gonna call M, was instant like.  I don't suffer from that.  I don't fall head over heels.  But, M makes me crazy.  I think about her every night.  In fact, she's the only woman I think about regularly and has been for months.

When I feel emotionally vulnerable, I do dumb shit.  M has tried to chat me up.  She went on in the middle of a busy shift for about ten minutes and I finally asked if she was really that desperate for attention.  She made pouty face and left.

She has always gone out of her way to find me and chat me up at length.  She does the forearm touch, a serious indicator of interest.  She leans in and smiles.  She does a great deal more than a waitress ought to do, especially in a sexually charged environment.

The one night, she was off-shift and came into the club looking for me.  I was pretty drunk and did not notice her sitting next to me at the bar.  She sat there for several minutes before opening me with a very chirpy "Hi!" and then trying to chat me up.  The topic got to "well, I haven't quit my job yet".  And I drunkenly told her something clever like everyone should quit their job (I often advocate for maximum chaos). 

The conversation trailed and I finally got my drink and left the bar to pursue sluttier prospects.  M sat at the bar the entire night by herself not talking to anyone else and not looking at me or even around at anyone.

When I couldn't take it anymore, I did what any secretly man in love would do.  I ran away to Europe for a month and tried to nail everything in sight.  When I came back, I was cordial, but cold toward M the first night I saw her.  M had been promoted to bartender. I congratulated her and that was that.

Two weeks later I came in for the second time since Europe.  And for the first time ever, M did not engage me.  When I smiled at her and made a half-hearted wave, her face went red and she glared at me without saying anything.  I tried to get her at the bar, but she kept asking the other girls to take me.

A few weeks later, I came in and things were a bit more cordial.  We got to talking again.  Being the drunk dunce I am, I missed an opening when she started talking getting off work.  My response was, "Oh shit, I hope they don't ticket my care for being in a clean-up zone after 2am." 

I did at least finally say something nice to her.  We talked about her bartending.  I told her I missed her waitress uniform, because I thought she looked dapper in it.  She thanked me and blushed.  I know she hates that uniform.  M's a little pudgy, and that uniform gave her a little muffin-top.  Personally, I like a little fat on a girl, so for me it's a total turn-on.

It's sad that I'm so proud of myself for saying one nice thing.  You have to know my track record with women to really understand how rare it is that I treat them nicely.

That's where things stand.  I went looking for her last week, but she took some vacation time over Thanksgiving to go see her family.  I miss her.  Worse, I think I could jerk her around forever.  But, I owe her better.

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