I almost forgot... So, I've been out of the dating game for sometime now. Probably not much of a stretch for you to imagine considering that I like movies and blog till the wee hours of the morning...
But anyways, as I was saying, I've been sitting on the sidelines for some time now. I got slightly divorced last year, and getting back into the game hasn't been smooth or beautiful... A couple of booty calls, one or two attempted dates and facebook.
Some people make the transition back to single pretty easily. Some people make the transition back to single before they are single. I tested the waters once or twice after the big D, decided I wasn't quite ready yet, and have been on sabbatical ever since... that is.... until I went to the movies.... It was actually that same night that I went to see Inglorious Basterds with my buddy Bert. It was a quite weeknight, and neither of us had anything important going on, and since I let him decide on the movie, I got to choose the theater.
We went to my theater which located at the top of a hill and off the beaten path. It's brand new, but it's not in a high traffic area, so not many people know about it. It's always empty and I love that. This particular night was no exception. It was empty, no lines. We were running a bit late and didn't have time to stop off for food so we had to go through the concession stand (I don't do movies without treats) and that's when I saw her....
She was short, dark haired, curvy, and was some sort of a manager, and thus, of legal age.... I accidently made eye contact with her while heading over to the coke dispenser and she gave me a smile and just sort of stared at me... I sucked in my gut and took my time filling my cup so that she could behold my greatness. When the cup was full, (mine that is) I was surprised to see that she was still looking at me and smiling. I was in a good mood, so I said hello. She asked what movie we were seeing blah blah blah I wasn't paying attention to the rest of it because by then I was trying to check her out while not appearing to check her out. Then she said something that brought me out of the gutter..; "Well, come find me after the show and tell me what you think..."
Having watched The Pickup Artist on VH1, I recognized this as an IOI (indicator of interest)as I walked into the theater... My buddy Bert, was standing there the whole time, saw and heard everything and said "Dude, she was totally checking you out. She wants you man. You have to go talk to her after the show..."
DUH, of course I was going to talk to her after the show... She was pretty obvious and even in my social hybernating state of mind, I could tell she wanted to visit more.
So, the world's longest movie started, I forgot about her and spent the next three hours rolling my eyes in the dark at Tarantino's latest cocaine-inspired brain fart. As the crappy movie ended, and the credits rolled, I made a few whiny comments and quickly remembered the events of the ten minutes before the movie and remembered that I had a mission to accomplish. Unfortunately, I had no game plan, so I figured I'd just say hello on the way out, give her a whiff of my Brute cologne, and just let the seed grow, because it was my theater, and I'd be back anyways. Bert had other plans....
Bert's a "Feely" A feely is a is a guy whose into feelings and empathizes easily with others. Feely's like chick flicks, gossip, and talking about their weight, and they are easily engrossed in the drama of others. Bert is also in a relationship right now, so, being a standup guy, he doesn't hit on girls, but that doesn't stop him from living vicariously through others. As soon as the movie ended, Bert was in my face prepping me for round 2 of the encounter with the movie girl telling me how to be smooth, what to say, etc; all of which sounded nice, but all it really did was make me start thinking about what I was going to say. Some guys work good when they plan things out. When I think things through, I'm a goner. I get nervous, the heart starts pumping and my brain runs a blank.
To make it worse, Bert had to tinkle after the show giving me another two minutes to tense up and build up some impressive flop sweat... We walked out of the can and up to the concession stand, I had to lean over the counter to get her attention (that would be less-than-smooth-move #1) I then decided, I would make an excuse to leave, get to the point (digits) and get out of there. She was visibly excited to see me. You think it would have relieved some of the pressure and diverted some of the blood back to my oxygen-starved brain.... Nope, it got diverted elsewhere...
She asked what I thought about the show and I said something to the effect of "Well, maybe I'll tell you about it sometime. I just need your phone number (flips open phone and leans over counter way too aggressively)"
The smile went from happy excited to talk to cute guy smile to uncomfortable creeped out smile. The hands went up and she immediately said that she had a boyfriend. I was there but not there. My subconscience watched the entire encounter in slow motion horror quietly yelling out "NOOOOOOOOO...!!!!!"
But it was too late. Bert quickly tried to recover for me, made a hasty excuse, and we got the hell out of there. The second we got outside, he said, "Man, that was a disaster. You came on way too strong blah blah blah..." He then went on for the next five minutes critiquing my trainwreck. I think that, since he was, after all, living vicariously through me, that part of him was pissed at me for messing up an easy encounter.
I blamed part of it on him getting me all worked up and nervous, but at the end of the day, it was all me.
You see, I've been rejected hundreds of times. It never phased me before. I was a man on a mission back in the day and getting blown off was part of the game and I didn't care either way, and that was my ace in the whole. When you don't care, you project confidence or its equally useful cousin, indifference. Once you care, once you start to think about it, you're dead in the water.
I knew my first couple of forays into the wild would be a little ugly, but I didn't think it would be this bad. Hopefully it won't be so bad the next time. I'll keep you posted.
So, as a salute to getting thrown off the horse and as a salute to my current love life, I give you "We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off", Jermaine Stewart's ode to platonic love...
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