There’s nothing like going to your favorite bar with your pals. As a single guy, I now look at these moments as canny opportunities to assist my friends in refining their wing-man skills. While grabbing a drink at the bar, I hear “Did all three of you just come from work?” Two girls sitting at the bar were turned towards us and after being asked just one simple question, it was quite easy to start a conversation. Following the standard name introductions, topics ranged from movies, music, religion, college, and travel. Needless to say that within the span of an hour, we knew a good amount about one another.
Rachel had my interest. She was laid back, confident, Jewish, and a straight shooter. The problem was that she didn’t do much to add to the conversation. It seemed like she expected the men to play 20 questions and try not to have it appear like a job interview. This is not only a challenge but agonizingly annoying. Yet, why not give it a shot? Nothing better to do.
“What do you do?” I asked.
“Ah, how did enlightening the city’s youth go this week?”
This isn’t to say that she didn’t have a personality – she did. But having a conversation with her outside of the group conversation that my buddies were having with her friend was unnecessarily difficult. Granted, she didn’t always provide a one word response but she didn’t show much interest either. After an hour, Rachel’s friend left but Rachel stayed to have another drink with us. At the end of the night, while Rachel was in the bathroom, my friend Mick told me that he overheard her complaining about her love life to her friend – saying that she doesn’t have anyone and it’s been a long time, blah blah blah. “We’re not exactly hitting it off though. You think I should ask for her number anyway?” “Of course! She didn’t leave when her friend left, so she’s expecting something tonight.”
To my surprise, her face lit up with charismatic delight when I asked her for her number. Maybe I was wrong. Was there a connection? Due to scheduling conflicts, we couldn’t get together right away. For a couple weeks, we texted a bunch and I came to realize that we had more in common than I thought. Finally, after 3 weeks, we were able to plan on getting together at a hip bar in Manhattan.
I HAVE A DATE. How do people prepare for this stuff again? Shower? Find clothing? Trim your pubes? All of the aforementioned? Ah,but as always, your luck catches up with you.
After planning out the evening, she texted me the day before our night out. She wanted to tell me that because I wasn’t Jewish, we couldn’t have a relationship. If we went out, it’d be strictly platonic. “I’ll convert!” I texted back, followed by cancelling the date. It’s interesting because I swear to you that I actually felt the joy escape from my body like it was a restless captive. Till next time.
– Single Guy in NYC