...but "got it" just don't get it when there's feelings involved...

so s and i went out to orting, and we drank, and yes, we did see a small handful of breasts (and i don't mean small breasts, i mean a small handful of women). the show was not nearly as pathetic and sad as i thought, and we actually enjoyed ourselves.

i also got hit on. yes, me. i know, i know, but s was there and can collaborate my story if you don't believe me. and no, mother hoodlum, it was not quite as bad as "booyah", but damn near close.

s and i had been there for a bit and had a couple drinks, when this gaggle (sorry, don't mean to offend my female readers, which is nearly all my known readers, actually, with the phrase "gaggle", but in this instance, no other word better suits) of 25 ish females comes in and sits across a bar-like divider from us. these ladies had obviously been "warming up" at home or some other bar before arriving at pub we now occupied.

they'd been there a bit when the one nearest me leans over and says (and i'm not kidding here, this is actually what she said, and s can back me up), "damn, you smell so good. what cologne are you wearing, cause i'm just sitting here like..." waves hand in front of face like she is scarlett o'hara about to have a case of the vapors.(and no, "vapors" is not farts, it's an old southern term for passing out)

i say, "uh, i'm wearing eternity." (it should be noted that eternity is one of my everyday colognes. i put it on after i shower. if we're going to my mom's house. if we all as a family are going out to dinner. if i want to get lucky, i wear an entirely different cologne.) another drunk lady says "ooooo, that's my favorite." and i say, "well, help yourselves, ladies." and go back to talking to s.

time passes, and now the original girl-of-the-bad-pick-up-line says to me, "do you have a light?" (behind her, about four of her friends are already smoking, so i'm assuming that at least one of them had a light, but at this point i am enjoying the silly game, so-) i say "yes", light her cigarette while she does that hand-cup thing which is completely unnecessary (the place is completely draftless), but is, i guess, sposed to be sexy, and probably would be if the situation weren't so ludicrous.

s and i talk, and time passes, then again with "i just can't get over how good you smell!" it should also be noted at this point that there is no way in hell i smell like eternity anymore, if i ever did to such a level that this chick would smell it across two feet of countertop.

time passes, s and i talk. then s has to go to the bathroom. and while i'm alone, she makes another stab. "do you dance?" now, this is the first time i take a good look at this girl. later, when i relay this whole story to my wife (yes, i told her. we keep no secrets from each other, and actually laugh over our respective stories after a night out), i will tell her the only, only way i would sleep with this lady is if certain criteria were met, vis a vis: we'd both have to be single, and all my other prospects would have to turn up zero. it's not that this lady was ugly, or anything like that, i just wouldn't have noticed her on my own. and if i had, she would've been in line behind, say, 12 other girls. and while i find aggressiveness a turn-on in women, it wouldn't go far enough for her. besides, her aggressiveness was like stupid-aggressiveness, not sexy, know-what-i-like-and-how-to-get-it aggressiveness.

"yes, i dance." i reply. "are you straight?" she asks. "yes, i'm straight." "well, then," she says, "you should come out and dance with us sometime, cause a girl gets tired of dancing with her friends all the time."

now i must lay it on the line, "i don't mind dancing with you, but i should tell you i'm married." i feel this is a fair thing to say. i don't know this chick, or what her intentions are, and while my wife could care less if i dance with a chick, or twenty chicks, i'm concerned about what's playing on the stage of their mind, and feel i should put some parameters on the screenplay.

she acts totally shocked and says, "i just wanna dance with you, not sleep with you." and one of her friends leans over, eyes at half-mast, and says, with too many s's(note, there are no actual s's in what she says:), "we're all married."

so i tell them that so far the dj hasn't played a single thing i could dance to, so they should pick a song they really like and ask me, and i would dance with them. by then s is back, and while the ladies are gone, i fill him in. he laughs. this has got to be the most fun we have had in quite awhile, and the excuse for us being there (i.e. the wet t-shirt contest) isn't even close to kicking off yet.

so the ladies dance and dance and dance, and never come back to ask me. matter of fact, they set up shop closer to the dance floor, and, presumably, men who will dance and follow that up with naughty things with disregard for marriage vows. but i feel like i have promised a dance, so i wait for something i can dance to, and finally it comes, in the form of outkast's "hey ya". (not quite "booyah", but scarily close.)

so i hunt down the lady who likes my cologne, and she seems genuinely flattered that i remembered, and came to ask her to dance, and we go to the dance floor. now, i am a very energetic dancer, but not a very good dancer, in terms of club dancing. every dance i do is a bastardized form of moshing, pogoing, and/or skanking. she turns out to be more of a "hip hop club" dancer, and i guess was planning on me rubbing my body against hers. who knows. anyways, i need space for my own special blend of leftover eighties-guy dancing.

five seconds into the song, she says, "you should buy me a drink!" as if i would be thrilled at the idea, to which i reply "i didn't bring any cash, my buddy's been buying all my drinks." which is entirely true. then they announce they'll be doing the t-shirt contest in about 5 minutes, we dance for another two seconds, and she waves me off the dance floor. i walk her to her seat, she thanks me, and i walk back over to s. the only fucking song i had any desire to dance to, and the bitch bails on me 7 seconds in because i won't buy her a drink.

s says, "apparently, when she said she only wanted to dance with you and not sleep with you, she lied." and i say, "yep."

but apparently, i've still got it. (if you're a drunk, so-so looking girl who wants someone to buy you drinks and maybe tie up what the husband's leaving undone.)

boy, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

darth sardonic