A Sweet Song Keeps Georgia On My Mind

I moved across the country a few months ago, and I have started to slowly collect a few new stories as I build new friendships with people out here. A problem with that is having to think of new pseudonyms for them, and I don’t think I can continue to use names of recent draft picks from the Edmonton Oilers, as I have done in the past. Maybe I’ll switch to Doctor Who characters…

So I’m out for my friend, Donna’s, birthday. She brings her girlfriend Amy and their friend Rory (afterthought: yeah, I think this’ll do). Since it’s Donna’s birthday, she drinks free until midnight at this bar. We all have a few drinks, and nothing seems crazy, but this night happens to coincide with a karaoke contest. The contestants are not the best singers, and when it’s over, we’re all thankful for it. After the contest, the bar still has normal karaoke for the rest of the night. There are some good performers and some very good songs being sung.

Then, some girl goes up and sings “Georgia On My Mind” by Ray Charles. First of all, this is a great song. Second of all, she is good. Third of all…actually, there is no third of all, I am instantly in love with whoever this enchanting creature is. If I was a sailor in olden times, I’m pretty sure I would have crashed the ship, as a siren’s song can ensnare me with ease. While she is singing this song, I am enthralled, as displayed by my googly-eyes, but I digress.

Donna, Amy, and Rory notice this, and we start to devise how I am going to approach and talk to this angel. Donna and Amy give me normal advice on talking to women, which is always a nice idea to default to; for this, I start and carry on a normal conversation about Ray Charles and songs I like from him. Unfortunately, at this point, I’m way too intimidated to try to strike a normal conversation. Rory offers to pull a similar, “Haaaaave you met Ted?” move; which I feel is something I might be able to do. Although, this also involves me having to pretend that I am a coherent human being, which I am definitely not while around this woman right now.

Then I come with an idea, a brilliant idea. So the plan is that I’m blind. I believe it came about when we were trying to find common ground to talk about Ray Charles.

Step 1: Rory takes me by the arm to go talk to this girl and and introduce me. We’ll talk about Ray Charles and how I’m blind as well.

Step 2:

Step 3: Her love magically restores my sight.

I start to think I can do this and I’m getting pumped up about talking to her now. Rory is fully on board, while we’re laughing and securing our places in hell. Donna and Amy keep telling us how bad of an idea this is, but now we’re just having more fun making this plan.

I loosen up and it looks like the girl is getting ready to leave soon. Though, now that she is no longer in the context of “Ray Charles Goddess,” I start to look at her and realize she isn’t as cute without my rose-colored glasses. The instant crush dissipates and we all just focus on hanging out.

I realize that I don’t end up talking to anyone in this situation, so technically it isn’t a story about wingmanning. The moral of the story is making sure you have people to strategize with. Even if the ideas are horrible, sometimes it’s just fun to compose these things.

-Patrick

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Seemed Like a Long Shot

For some time now, some people said I look like Justin Long or have similar mannerisms/personality from the movies and shows he’s been in. A few years back, there was this 2-week period where three different people in three different situations compared me to him. The first was at work when a coworker stopped, turned to me, and said: “You look like Justin Long.” I was very confused by this, as it was a complete non sequitur from what we were talking about. She was all giggly with her, “Haha, I work with Justin Long.” Then about a week later, one of my friends, out of the blue, said, “Hey Patrick, you know who I could see playing you in a movie? Justin Long.” Again, confused, I asked why. She compared mannerisms and facial expressions. Then, about a week later on my birthday, I was out with a different set of friends and coworkers, and an friend of one of my coworkers said, “Hey you look like that guy from that movie with the restaurant and stuff.” After some deductive reasoning, we found out he was referring to “Waiting” starring, you guessed it: Justin Long.

Enough of the prologue, let’s get into the story…well what I remember of it, since I blacked out:

On a twist of the “How I Met Your Mother – haaaaaave you met, Ted?” technique used on the show, my buddy taps a girl on the shoulder and asks, “Hey, doesn’t he look like Justin Long?” I’m skeptical as to whether this would yield anything, because well, she’d have to know who Justin Long is. Apparently she does, and says, “Yeah, he kind of does…” and this sparks a conversation between her and I, while my buddy steps off to the side, completing his duties as wingman. Now this is where it starts to get hazy because I have been drinking heavily the whole night. I know that I keep forgetting her name, but I remember a trick someone used on me back in college:

It was my junior year of college and I was at this party and this girl was talking with me but was drunk so she couldn’t remember my name. She kept asking every 10 minutes and then she asked me for my phone number so she could put it in her phone and remember me that way. I had a girlfriend at the time, so I was a little hesitant to give my phone number to a drunk girl. I gave her my real name, but gave her a fake number, you know, just in case.

Armed with this story in the back of my brain, I ask her for her number, because to that drunk college girl’s credit, putting someone’s name in your phone does help you remember it. Shortly after this happened, I black out. But I’m pretty sure at one point I sent her a drunk text. It’s me, so it was something oddly charming, or Disney-related. And you guessed it, she didn’t respond. I’m an idiot. This is why I’m single.

-Patrick

The Cuddling Incident

Drinking to Stay Warm – Bad Idea? YES! Yes, it is a bad idea! I’m telling you this at the beginning of the story because it’s that important. I’ll get into the physiology of why it’s bad later on. We are out on a mission this night: we need to find “holiday girlfriends.”

Holiday girlfriend (n.): a woman you date for the holiday season, to take to holiday parties or other Christmas/non-denominational holiday events. Whether she sticks around after New Year’s depends on the girl.

The night starts normally, walking from Ryan’s place to the bars. Though this November night is a lot colder than earlier in the week. We choose to forego wearing jackets, our rationale is that once we get the bars, it would get a lot hotter and we’ll probably be drunk and lose them somewhere. Knowing us, that carries a high probability of happening. We get to our normal bar, but it seems pretty dead, so we take a cab to downtown San Jose.

I forget if we went to any places beforehand, but we end up at the Brit and we’re only 3 or 4 beers in. Now we were still walking around in long-sleeve t-shirts in the middle of November, so some idiot suggests that we take shots to feel warm. As I bask in the glory of my taking shots idea, we get another beer and I notice this girl from across the bar. I say aloud to Ryan, “We should go over there.”

So we mosey on over to the other side of the dance floor, which is already quite populated, and bop along to the music. Then Ryan uses one of our awkward moves of pushing the other guy into the girl he likes. It’s sort of a more awkward “Haaaaave you met Ted?” Now, the drinks have started to hit me more so the night gets a little more blurry from here on out, because we keep drinking. Though I do remember having a dance-battle with her, doing the worm not once, but twice, then hanging out with her and her group of friends (all women) for the rest of the night.

For some reason we all take out our phones and take “paparazzi shots” of each other. BTW, my photo up there is one of my pictures from that night, so you may be able to tell how drunk I was. Anyways, we end up at a taqueria, and Ryan is getting very cozy with one of the friends, who was… nice and had a great personality.

I end up getting a ride back to my car at Ryan’s place from the girl I like, where I pass out for a bit. For the life of me, I cannot remember what we talked about. I think music was one of the topics. I’m drunk off my ass, while she didn’t have one drink all night. It must’ve worked somehow because while I don’t remember asking for her number, I find it in my phone the next morning.

Ryan, on the other hand, gets a ride from two of the girls to some random guy’s place where one of the women in the group, who is recently married, hooks up with the aforementioned random guy. Ryan said he heard the clicking of handcuffs at one point…sketchy as fuck. Ryan, unfortunately, is still cold and ends up cuddling with the nice friend all night. Oh, that’s not a euphemism, they cuddled.

The second half of the night was later described to me by Ryan. He thought we were taking separate cars to same locations, but I just wanted to pass out in my car. Haha, if he’d known I was going home-ish, the cuddling incident wouldnt’ve happened and the girl I dated wouldnt’ve hated him. I actually got a long text message of how he shouldn’t have pursued her friend all night. Ryan was just trying to be a good wingman

The girl I dated filled in the rest of the details via texts and later on during our first date. I didn’t even know I had the pictures in my phone until she told me about it while on the date. It was a little awkward, but as usual, I use that to my advantage.

-Patrick

We Find Out What’s The Worst That Could Happen

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.

-Patrick