Another Goofy Wingman Tale

I don’t pretend to be the best with women in general. Like most average-looking guys, when out and about on weekend nights, I just try and strike up conversations with girls I either find attractive, or just seem for whatever reason to have a pretty neat personality. I don’t go all emo on myself if these “talks” don’t happen to go anywhere, nor do I begin to consider myself Fabio Jr. just because the girl in question is still talking or even openly flirting with me after some time. In fact, this would probably be my biggest piece of advice for dudes out there; just take it easy. My uninspiring ass has gotten laid plenty of times by simply being “the cool, casual customer” in a bar or club. The goal is not to act aloof, but to calmly demonstrate interest while taking the attitude of “hey, I’m having a good time tonight regardless.” The type of women who react to a guy being incredibly forward from the initial contact (or if the girl approaches you with a “take me now” attitude) are generally the type that will take you home and fuck you 37 times until sunup, and then kick you out as if they realized you look like Gilbert Gottfied. Trust me on this. I personally am not looking for a relationship at this point in my life, however I don’t appreciate being treated like a penis with a warm body attached to it, and I like to get some sleep and give my wang a rest every now and then.

That said, my roommate had a lovely episode this weekend. I got back into town Saturday night and was greeted with a “let’s roll to Fremont” (something becoming quite common on Saturday nights recently). I’m told while on the way that he was supposed to meet up with an old girlfriend who recently had taken some interest in him again, but had blown him off today. My initial thought; this boy is somewhat depressed and could some tail tonight. After meeting up with some friends, he tells the brief story again and the rest of us come to unspoken conclusion (it’s a guy thing) that I came to earlier, and with nary a word we automatically label ourselves “wingman” for the night.

Now, the night itself is fairly uneventful until the bars start chasing the customers out after last call. A couple of our friends already left so our little group was down to three, and the roommate starts talking to this girl who was apparently looking for someone. The two talk for maybe five minutes, then the roommate walks her towards us and introduces her. Cool, I’m thinking, he might have this. She drops a couple BIG hints and flashes a green light so fucking big I’m sure some guys up in Vancouver saw it and started drooling. Our other friend and I turned to the roommate (who was driving us) and basically say “hey man, we’ll taxi or something home. You’re good.” Roommate inexplicably asks to tag along. I facepalm.

As much as I wanted to just ditch him, it was obvious he was either uncomfortable or just felt the night wasn’t over for us yet as a crew, because apparently this girl had offered us all back to her place, and he wanted to take her up on it. Okay, other friend and I think; we’ll drink a beer over there, and then calmly duck out and let my roommate make his move without the awkward presence of us. Well, “a beer” turned into about three or four more, and my roommate had yet to really make much of a move to a seemingly willing participant. Friend and I become a little uneasy as this whole charade is taking way too long to develop into something worthwhile for my roommate, but now both friend and I are a little drunk and don’t feel like grabbing a cab either. We decide to willingly move ourselves outside on this girl’s patio and basically freeze our ass off on a very cool summer night, waiting for my roommate to take the cue and finish the deed. So we wait. And wait. And wait. I actually fell asleep twice, only to be awakened by other friend’s rapid texting to other people, perhaps alarming others about how pathetic my roommate is being tonight. Eventually, between being cold and just flat-out fucking impatient, I pound on the glass sliding door to give out a warning signal, in case these two were going at it right in the living room, waited about ten seconds, and came in. To my complete disappointment, roommate is simply sitting on the sofa by himself, fully clothed, and looking perpetually bored. Before I can utter a word, he looks up but doesn’t make eye contact and says “I just wasn’t feeling it.”

Now, I can appreciate this. I love sex but hate forcing it, and quite often will pass up otherwise golden opportunities because I, too, “wasn’t feeling it”. I’m not gonna rag on a brotha’ for not giving in to our own selfish desire as friends to see him get ass because our own stupid asses were convinced it would make him feel better.

That said, I went to sleep that night at least a full three hours later than I needed to because roommate didn’t have the balls to just tell us this earlier. All night every single girl that so much looked in our general direction was directed towards him, and it should’ve been obvious our whole goal that night was to feed him “a chance”. It should be a man-law that when a guy sees his friends assuming the role of “wingmen”, you need call off the dogs if it’s completely unnecessary. Furthermore, and this goes for both girls and guys, when someone seems to be giving the “go-ahead” sign to you, do not answer it if “you aren’t feeling it”, for chrissakes. True, girls will often invite guys over to their place just for sake of capping off a night with another drink and nothing more, and I can tell he difference. This girl my roommate found WANTED more. All he had to do was say no and save our time.