Baby Steps

So it begins.  I'm getting my head out of the clouds, my ass off the bench and jumping into the game, right wing preferably.  There was a slight change of plans and instead of Q's I found myself at Double Deuce in the Gaslamp Quarter, San Diego.  I dressed appropriately in some knee high brown boots and a jean skirt as the DD is a country western bar.  My boots made that sweet sound when hitting the wood floor during my line dancing routine.  Yee-haw!

Right.  Like I went up on stage and line danced.  Baby steps people, baby steps.

While I'm not afraid of country, I'm pretty sure my friends were embarrassed to be there, but we had a hook up and the drinks came free all night long.  That makes just about any bar tolerable.  Plus, they had a mechanical bull and a stripper pole.

We never discussed the possible use of the stripper pole, but I was told that friends don't let friends ride the bull.  I was wearing a skirt so I thought I was in the clear.  Oh, don't worry, the bar has that covered though.  They have a nice large pair of overalls you can just slip on over your clothes so that the pervs standing outside the bar watching don't catch a glimpse of your beaver while you're bouncing on the bull.  2 shots of Patron and I was holding on to that bull for dear life.

Yeah...that didn't happen either.

So what did I do while I was there?  Well, I do-si-doed to Cotton-Eye Joe, partook in a boob grabbing frenzy, and belted the lyrics to Just a Friend along with Biz Markie.  I also found out that I may have a type.  Ding, ding, ding.  Type A for Asshole.  Surprise!

I'm standing outside in the smoking section with my friends who enjoy slowly killing themselves and this boy starts talking to me.  Tells me that his brother is riding the bull, and when he says brother, he means his military brother.  Game time, here we go!

There is nothing about this drunk boy that interests me, his friend however, is extremely cute.  So we had a little back and forth but I could tell that I wasn't really helping the conversation along.  It was like I was purposely running into defenders so I wouldn't get close enough to the goal to take an actual shot.

Then the guy says they've just been transfered from Philly and they are shipping out in a week.  Philly!?!  I say Allentown and they're both shaking my hand.  Now I have cute guy's attention.  Drunk guy keeps talking about how they are going to Iraq and then throws out that his buddy (cute guy) has had 13 kills and he's had 9.

What?!

You don't talk about that shit with your wife, let alone throw that out at a bar.  Cute guy says nothing, but he's not exactly telling his friend to shut the fuck up.  I call them out.  Drunk guy plays it off, but I'm not stupid, I don't just eat bullshit like it's candy.

Cute guy tells me he's going to ride the bull, but he's had a few to drink so it might be interesting.  I point out he's already making excuses for why he's going to suck.  His reply, "What about me makes you think I'd fail at anything?"  Wow.  He was serious.

I was speechless.

That was pretty much the end of my interaction with them, we went back inside shortly after.  Maybe it was the buzz I had going, but all I could think about was how attractive "cute guy" was and that I wanted a picture with him.  I saw him around the bar a couple times before we left, but never had the nerve to go back up to him.

Later that night, I told my friends I was annoyed for not pushing myself to go back up to him like I had wanted to.  They all looked at me in disbelief and almost simultaneously yelled about what an asshole he was.

I couldn't argue with them, but this is an exercise in stepping out of my comfort zone and I felt like I failed, just a little.

There's always next time.