Well, I never thought I’d use that combination of words in the same sentence, let alone use it as a headline (shudder).
“Never say ‘never'” – Every Elementary School Teacher Ever
Many single people have been caustically asked, “Why are you still single?” or “What’s the deal with you?” or “Have you made any arrangements yet as to how you would prefer to die alone?” These pointless inquiries are often equivocated by the responder, which, to me, adds to the pointless exchange. When I’m painfully greeted by these questions, my answer is always the same: “Shouldn’t you be asking the last girl I hit on?” Unfortunately in this instance, you’ll have to ask my Dad.
As a tall, cumbrous man, with a megaphone as a voice box and a spiritedly unapologetic demeanor, my Pops has mastered the art of standing out in a crowd. While attending one of my live performances, my father sat at one of the tables in front of the stage, surrounded by attractive 20-something-year-olds. (I’m the lead sax player in a Fusion band. “And you’re still single?” I know, right? My good friend once told me that women love men that play music, just not me. But I digress.) While performing, I tend to keep an eye pealed on my audience and my “single radar” on point just in case there’s someone checking me out for a change. Occasionally, my “single radar” – as Michael Winslow hysterically put it in Spaceballs – loses its bleeps, sweeps, and – arguably the most vital – creeps when I’m focusing on the music. Luckily, I had a few friends in the crowd to give me the scoop on whom was giving me the eye.
The entire time I was playing, there was a cute blonde girl in the crowd taking pictures of the band but keeping her focus on me. Naturally, I added “talk to the cute girl” to my to-do-list that evening. After I got off stage, one of my friends informed me that my best bet was some cute blonde girl that was periodically taking pictures of the band. I chuckled and told him I knew which one he was referring to. She moved to a stool beside the left wall to talk to friends, which was around where my Dad was standing, so I decided to venture over. After thanking my father for coming out, I began honing in on the girl and ruminating about what I could say. After running through a myriad of greetings in my head – yes, I think way too much – and looking back to see if anyone has stolen my instrument, I finally decided on a perfectly innocuous question: “Hi, what did you think of the band?” And with that, I took a step towards her to begin my short approach.
“You need to hit on this blonde girl standing right beside me!” my Dad blurted out emphatically.
Frozen in motion, the girl turned her head, derisively leered at me and my father, then down at my extended foot and then back up at me in order to acknowledge my disappointing approach. She was no longer impressed by me but, instead, critical of my looming presence. I instantly felt unwelcome and nervous, as if she pressed the panic button on her keys to scare me off. This awkward moment lingered for what seemed like a half an hour but was only a matter of 15 seconds before she turned back to her friends.
“Thanks Dad,” I said weakly.
And so, the opportunity was gone. She left shortly thereafter.
Lastly, let me add that I love my father and this post is in no way supposed to mock him. He’s one of the most consistently benevolent beings I know. The man was only trying to help a brotha’ (or son) out. Stories like this are bountiful to the point where children believe it’s their parents appointed duty to embarrass them.
In the distinguished words of Herman Cain, “Awwww shucky ducky!” – which, I presume, was a sigh of defeat.
-Single Guy in NYC