Bonus points if you know the reference in the subject line. Kudos if you’ve read it!
Life’s always interesting and busy in the life of the single woman, but it’s perhaps more so after she opens herself up to meeting new people in crowded places. Like bars.
Superbowl Sunday came around, and I was in a bar with a (platonic) male friend, performing that holy of American holies, Watching The Superbowl. It was my first ever, and it was tons of fun. The bar was a rowdy Irish-themed one, packed to the gills with people cheering, booing, and generally carrying on. As usual, the people-watching was probably the most entertaining.
As I stood with my friend, enjoying my beer, I noticed that a guy had managed to screw up the courage to come around to my side of the bar, and he proceeded to chat up a happy, smiley woman with longish brown hair. She looked like she was probably my age, and was seated with her female friend. I couldn’t see his face as his back was to me, but I could see hers. And I felt really sorry for him. He started to get the Cold Stare. The Cold Stare was followed by the Short Answers. The friendly, laughing, smiling woman had evaporated, leaving a salt pillar in its place. Poor guy. He seemed nice enough, and I could hear from his questions that he wasn’t being rude or a dog, he was just trying to express his interest.
These are the times I am glad I am not a guy. And not trying to pick someone up in a bar.
But this is also why it’s all quiet for me at the moment: I generally stay out of bars. Yeah, I’m sure going to the bar with my platonic, but male friend didn’t help either!
Oh, and Corporate Lawyer was astonished and dismayed that he’d kissed a Steelers fan. I laughed at him and told him that I was equally embarrassed to having kissed a fiscal conservative who supported McCain’s home state’s team! A little flirting ensued, including a link to a rather explicit GQ article on Republican, er, prowess, in the bedroom (sounds more like Neanderthal behaviour). You tell me: The Elephant In The Bedroom.