At Times I Am Downright Maniacal

            When I go out to a bar, what with the music and the dancing and all, I’m well aware of the fact I have no idea what I’m doing. Not in a black-out what-did-I-do-last-night drunk kind of a way, just in a total social ineptitude sense. Sometimes I entertain the possibility that maybe I do not know a lot about these things.

Last night I went out to just such a bar where my total lack of social grace and confidence could run free. We’d been there for maybe an hour or so when I notice a girl from across the bar (cliché!) looking at me. When we made eye contact she pointed at her eyes with her index and middle fingers and then pointed at me. I had to mentally and consciously prevent myself from looking around before I did the traditional “point at your own chest and mouth ‘me?’” maneuver. She responded to my crazy smooth only-mouthed-me bit by doing the eye pointing bit again. So I did it back. So… she did it back. This continued for a longer time than might be acceptable. Finally I squeeze my way around the bachelorette party she was a part of (if the woman in the veil wasn’t telling sign, the straws shaped like penises were) and started a conversation. I told her I had no idea what the hand gesture meant. (A lie, we all saw Meet the Parents) She said it meant she had her eye on me. Indeed? She could not tell me if this was good (romantic, in my mind) or bad (an impending street fight perhaps) even when pressed. We talked about important and deep things. Like the penis straws. Then after a while we wandered apart. Later when my wanderings brought us back together we began to talk again.

I can’t remember why, exactly, but another member of the party was brought in to the conversation. This new girl begins to tell me what a catch my new friend is. Why is that, I asked. I was treated to a list of fairly generic sounding traits like “awesome” and “smart” and some other adjectives I couldn’t hear over the band’s cover of “Take Me Out.” Then she said something about “two years too late.” Late for what?

For the last two years my new friend has been in a relationship with a doctor. Pardon me? True story! I understand that I am a majestic figure of a man and it’s only natural that one might watch me as I wander the bar, but do not telegraph this point to me unless you have a good reason! So we continued to talk and then the bride to be descended upon me. She was a nice enough person, for all her boisterous drunken enthusiasm. She pointed out all the accoutrements of the bachelorette- the veil, the penis straw, the white tank top with “bride to be” picked out across the chest in rhinestones. Then she asked me if I was single. Now, idiot though I may be, I suspected that this woman might have had a boyfriend. I don’t know why, something I just couldn’t put my finger on. I told her I didn’t and she began listing off reasons I should and she couldn’t believe I didn’t. Another list of somewhat generic terms came forth. “Tall,” “funny,” “nice,” “cute.” Erm, thank you? I shall remember this information? Good luck on your wedding?

And so, after that, the bride to be and her bridesmaids drifted out of the bar. But I like to think that I will forever be a part of that wonderful quilted tapestry of memory. Specifically the little square of fabric that says “remember that guy who hit on Jackie at the bachelorette party? Haha hilarious!”

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