We make eyes all for nothing?

5 Dec

I had a little more spring in my step last nite. Originally I had planned to go to this holiday gathering where everybody would wear ugly Christmas sweaters.

Instead, my friend Genevieve called me up to invite me somewhere.

“Thank you for not inviting me 20 minutes beforehand.” I told her.

Side note: I’ve been having this problem as of late. Like a snake shedding its old skin, I’m growing out of my old life. Call it the job, call it coming into my own as a young-un….whatever it is, it’s making certain people start to be really crappy excuses for friends. I shall call them “un-friends.”

Therefore…I APPRECIATE IT when Genevieve calls me a few hours beforehand to invite me someplace, like a real friend would do. [Unlike the crappy un-friends, who send emails to the wrong accounts or call me when they are on their way somewhere like I’m their shitty last minute afterthought.]

How simple, yet, how it lifted my mood. Genevieve has this way of making people feel special too. Tattooed to the hilt and always dressed in something black, her unique exterior is contrasted by an unadulterated glee she has for her true friends. She was enthusiastic about the night.  That was part of it.

So.  Going out with my girly friend.  I rarely go out with my girly friends (I don’t have that many, except at work!) It had been a while since I’d seen Genevieve…and feeling generally appreciated tipped the scales of my mood, so I was feeling spunkier than usual. While I normally reach at the eye level for something in my closet….this time  my eyes shifted UPWARDS toward my closet’s normally uncharted territory: My party girl attire.

My normal “hooker in hiding” attire consists of a bland uniform of  skinny jeans and hoodies. But….last night was cause for celebration for being alive, god dammit. Such a celebration called for….SEQUINS! yea!

You should know…in addition to a rampant collection of G-strings, fishnets, corsets, and dresses that leave my ass hanging out….I also collect cute clothes just like any other girl. Stuff I haven’t worn because on my days off I’ve felt more like hiding behind my jackets than getting stared at by the opposite sex. But….all the sparkly, wonderful, magical clothing was seeming a bit lonely. While most women wear the cleavage shirts and the “showy dresses” so men will hunt them down, last nite I wore the sequins just for me.

Genevieve wanted to go to this rock show because there’d be lots of dreamy boys there she said. Part of me was like “ahhh yawn whatever.” But not 15 minutes into being there, I catch a glimpse of this gorgeous guy while we’re standing outside and he’s waiting in line to get in the club.

Actually to be more accurate I totally smelled his pheromones walk by, and THEN I noticed he had a fabulous face and clean sense of style to match his pheromone aura.

Once we’re standing inside, Genevieve (an excellent wing woman) notices him eyeballing me. We decide to situate ourselves at this table to get prime viewing area of this boy so we can properly eyeball each other in the crowded bar.

Five minutes later, the boy and his guy friend ALSO reposition themselves, so we can BOTH properly ogle each other from afar. Genevieve says that if you want the guy to talk to you, it’s all about waiting. You sit and you wait for him to make the move.

She says, “Whatever you do, don’t tell him ANYTHING about your job. Say you’re an artist and you work weird side jobs but make  NO MENTION OF YOUR JOB WHATSOEVER.”

“Thank you Genevieve for re-training me in the ways of the real world.” I tell her. Genuinely and truly.

You should know, I’ve never done anything like how normal girls do. Getting move by move coaching from Gen is saving my ass.  Really. I’m not accustomed to playing it cool. I’m more accustomed to straight up walking up to a guy and talking to him. I do this at work, and I do this “in the club.” I normally waste no fucking time, unless a guy is already with another chick.

In fact a few months back, when Gen told me that there was a guy she had been eyeballing for MONTHS…you know what I did as her wing woman? Five minutes after she completed her story, I waved to him, and motioned for him to come over and have drinks with us. I singlehandedly maneuvered that boy into talking to my lady friend.  We even had one of those impromptu, late nite hangout sessions. I wasted NO TIME. But…being a good girl, I followed Genevieve’s wing woman directions and had my ass GLUED to that chair, hoping this hottie would come talk to me.

Except…as time goes by, I’m not digging the process of having to do this shit just like everyone else.
We’re still glancing at each other. I go up to the bar and get an ice water, brushing by him.
He doesn’t make a move.
He just stands there. Blocks me in to this sort of corner.

Which I guess COULD have been a move, except I’m vaguely claustrophobic, so I bolted. I make my way back to the chair.

I ask Gen, “Is this really how normal people do it? They sit and wait? This is agony!”

She assures me that yes, this is really how they do things in the real world. Girls wait for guys to talk to them.

She tells me “you should go talk to him.”

I’m suddenly confused. Like a football player that’s been told conflicting plays by two different coaches.

I don’t wanna feel like a loser.

So I don’t do anything. After all, they say…if a guy is totally into you, he will make the move.
That book by Greg Behrendt says so.
My night came and went…the moment I change my mind and muster up the courage to talk to the guy, his friend decides its time to bolt, and he and his friend are out the door, walking down the street to hit up last call somewhere else.

Gen’s analysis is that he is shy.
My analysis is that he’s a fucking pussy,
I’m a tool,
and he probably has a girlfriend.

OR, maybe it was the fucking sequins.
All that sparkly shit scared him off.


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