Frozen Grenade Anyone?

For the record, I'm not the asshole who stands there texting while you talk to me.  I'm the asshole who stands there taking notes on all the b.s. coming from your mouth.

There's a difference.  At least I'm listening.

I had pleasure of having a friend in town for the weekend.  She's hot and married, hence the perfect wingman.  Within hours of her arrival she witnessed me get ridiculously excited when I heard two guys were moving into the apartment above mine.

Is he cute?  Is he brown?  Would he like to join us for a cocktail?  Is he polite?  Is he clean?

Turns out it's only one guy.  I haven't been able to stare at him yet, but from the quick glimpse I got, I don't think we'll be having any sleepovers.

My friend and I started the night with a movie (Airplane!) at the Hollywood Forever cemetery.  Great flick to see in that type of environment.  Everyone eating, drinking, and being merry.  

I had a beer bottle and my friends tried to get me to ask a random guy to open it, but the surrounding options I had weren't really appealing.

Just open the damn bottle and pass me a Red Vine.  Thanks.

After the movie we headed to Three Clubs.  It would have been a chill spot had it not been Speed Metal night.

A lot of black clothes, tattoos, and long hair.

Pass.

Next we checked out The Cat and the Fiddle.  I really dig the outside patio at this place.  Little trees, soft lights, plenty of tables, and all around unpretentious.  

So we're standing there letting our eyes wander and boom!  He walks in. 

Target locked.

Him and his friend stood about 6 feet away from us.  My friend positioned herself with her back towards them so that I could look at her and glance at him.

You know the setup.

She tries to teach me the "sexy straw trick."  I don't even attempt.

I try that shit and chances are the straw ends up in my eye or flies across the room.

So she tells me just make eye contact and smile.  Simple.

Except, not.  I couldn't do it.  I froze, looking everywhere but at him.

God, it was painful.  Especially since I was well aware of how ridiculous I was being.

My friend pointed out that they might be intimidated.  My target's friend was not attractive.  She said that she'd jump on the "grenade" for me.

Then it hit.

What if I'm the grenade!?!

What a terrifying realization.

She attempted to reassure me that I wasn't.  I'm still partially unconvinced.

A friend of a friend came up to us and we eventually told him what we were up to.  

"Guys don't flock to you?"

Ha.  No.  But you are now my new best friend.

Needless to say, I failed.

Our last stop was the Beauty Bar.  I like the one in Vegas much better.  This place smelled.

It was the only bar we had been to all night that had dance music.  A guy came up to us and said his friend wanted to know if we would dance with him.

Ok.  I know girls do this every once in awhile but, guys should not.  Ever.

Grow a fucking pair.

Shortly after, two guys approached, also asking us to dance.  My friend politely declined.  Being married is the best excuse.  She followed up the flash of her ring by telling them that I was spoken for also.  Then they asked if her and I were together.

They were not straight.

Sigh.

By this point my feet hurt, my eyes were tired, and my motivation had deflated.  Game over.

A redeeming moment came when I walked into work on Monday and one of the guys asked if I'd like to join him on a private jet to Vegas.

I hesitate because, while the experience would be pure gold, you know what they say - don't shit where you eat.

Maybe I should just stop eating.