The night starts like any other in downtown Campbell (back when Katie Bloom’s was still fun): start at KB’s, then hop to another bar when it gets way too crowded. I’m there with two friends: one who is single (let’s call him Ryan for now), and one who is not-so-much. It’s still early, there’s no one on the dance floor, so naturally, we get our beers and stand in the middle of the dance floor. This is one of my harebrained schemes to meet women; women like dancing, it’s awkward for three guys to dance by themselves, so claim good dance floor territory, and women will eventually start dancing around you…that’s my reasoning at least. The dance floor starts populating and it’s my turn to buy, so I go to the bar to get the round. I make my way back with three beers and my friends are dancing with women…HOW’D THE HELL THAT HAPPEN?!
That scenario ends when the not-so-single friend may, or may not, have kissed one of the girls. We don’t know for sure, we didn’t see it happen. But the way she’s pissed when she sees the ring on his hand, odds are that something happened. Needless to say, we have to go to a new bar.
We get to another bar and non-single friend feels really bad and just wants to sulk off to the side while Ryan and I continue to find women. We go to the bar to get a drink and discuss that WTF-moment. I overhear a small group, two women and one guy, talking about Antti Niemi’s poor play in playoffs against the St. Louis Blues. It wasn’t his fault, our defense couldn’t really handle guys like David Perron and Andy McDonald, and we couldn’t get goal-support against their defense and untouchable goalie-tandem, but I digress. I jump into the conversation to defend Niemi’s play and completely take over the conversation. I must have cock-blocked the other guy pretty bad, because I don’t even notice him leave.
While I can hold my own in any conversation about hockey, it was baseball season, so we transition to that. She’s a Giants fan, and I am an A’s supporter, where I immediately gave her crap for their poor performance early in the season (thank Christ I wasn’t still talking to her when the Giants won the championship later on). Ryan is talking to her friend, but we end up switching for a little bit, don’t remember why because we’re still drinking. Anyway, I end up getting the friend’s number, because let’s face it, she’s the better-looking of the two, then head to the restroom before we leave. Apparently, she tells Ryan to get her number from me. I find this out as we’re trying to flag down a cab. Needless to say, I’m a little confused and pissed, but instead of being mad, I just text her and asked her for her friend’s number, since that’s the one I hit it off with anyway.
I went on a few dates with her, then decided to run like hell, figuratively-speaking. Ryan and I literally running away from women is another story for another time. Turns out, the friend that Ryan talked to was bat-shit crazy…knives strategically placed around her room-crazy. Mine was just weird, so oh well, what can you do. That’s dating.