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.



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.


Awkward Moment in the Restroom

This story happened years ago, when Ryan and I first started hanging out. We were at our usual bar, and it was a crowded Friday night. It’s crowded as usual, but practically nothing is happening for either of us. The plan is to use the restroom, get one more drink and then strategize the rest of the night from there.

The process is completely routine, at least from my vantage. I wait for Ryan outside of the restroom; he comes out and tells me with a serious visage, “We have to go.” Perplexed, I try to get him to tell me why, but he just repeats that we must go, now.

Outside, and on the way to the next bar, he finally tells me what happened. He walked into handicap stall, since that was the only vacancy, and some guy follows him in. He thought nothing of it, this random probably wanted to use the stall after him. The random then closes the stall door. The random then locks the door. Ryan, confused and perturbed, unlocks the door. The random locks it again. Ryan then felt the need to get the hell out of there.

I had something to laugh at for a few hours.



Conformity - "It's the one who is different that gets left out in the cold"

“It’s the one who is different that gets left out in the cold”

The night started a little late because I just finished up a hockey game, and I had to clean up and book it over to Ryan’s as fast as I could. I get there and Ryan’s buddies, Shawn and Jordan were already there and ready to roll. So we get to Campbell and Katie Bloom’s is not only packed, the crowd in line looks…hmm, how can I put this delicately…ghetto as fuck.

At this point in life, Ryan is hung up on some girl, Jordan is married, I’ve sworn off dating, and Shawn is not sure if he wants to be meet new people — sounds like the Island of Misfit Toys, doesn’t it? But we choose to go to Campbell because the girl Ryan got a phone number from was at another bar in the area, and you know…what’s the worst that could happen?

So we head over to Sonoma Chicken Coop because they have an awesome microbrew and we won’t run into that girl and her friends, at least not before getting a few drinks in us. After a few pints, it’s time see what the hubbub is all about, and meet this girl at the bar with her friends. We get there, and it…is…packed. Ryan tells her what part of the bar we’re residing, and eventually, she tracks us down. I must admit, not bad. Last time I saw I had a few drinks in me, so I didn’t have the most accurate memory of her. Oh, and one of her friends, one I previously hit on, was there too…hooray.

They decide they want to go to the douchiest bar in Campbell because their friend (it’s the friend’s birthday) wants to go there…double-hooray. The place is just as douchy as I remember. And of course they have to pat us down, because people have been stabbed there before –did I mention how happy I was to be there? At this point, I decide to water out because the last time I was with some of these guys after a workout, I got drunk really fast and blacked out. Combine that with me swearing off dating, and I’m not much use to anyone here.

However, one of the cool things is that Shawn, is uncharacteristically social. He starts talking to and dancing with the girl who turned me down about a month before, go Shawny! Lord knows that I don’t want to talk to her again; I faced personal humiliation with her once, I don’t want to do that again.

While this is happening, Ryan is in the middle of a dance floor make-out sesh with his girl, and Jordan is (reluctantly) dancing with some random chick. I say “reluctantly” because he’s married and definitely doesn’t want to do anything he may regret. I’m just off to the side, taking this all in, because no one loves me.

The club calls last call and the place starts to thin out. The random Jordan was dancing with asks him for his number, but he politely turns her down and point to his ring, which was a much better outcome than the last time.

Outside of the club, Shawn seems very outgoing and this girl seems to be a little hesitant. He asks her for her number, but I think somehow she doesn’t directly give it to him, but says to get it from her friend. That ended up not panning out so well because, in all actuality, she’s not Shawn’s type. Also things are still jiving with Ryan and his girl.

After a failed attempt to get food at a local taqueria and a good night’s sleep, Ryan, Shawn, and I break everything down over Facebook chat. Ryan and Shawn were both drunk so they don’t know whether to pursue these women or not. I was sober and tried to convince them to because, well, what’s the worst that could happen? Worst-case scenario, you go out with them a few times, things don’t work out, you never talk to them again — the usual for us.


A Family Affair

Ryan and I are in Campbell and we start out at Katie Bloom’s, as usual. KB’s in the Fall of 2012 is pretty stale and boring, so we aren’t there long. We end up at Khartoum and it’s pretty packed. We somehow make it through the crowd get our drinks and start to scope the area.

The problem is that I was dating a girl at this time, and I liked her. A lot. So I wasn’t really looking for women for myself, but as a good wingman, I’m still around to help my bro.

Since this place is a lounge, we find a place to sit and it happens to be near this group of two women and one guy. We make conversation, then one of the women wants to go outside to smoke. Since Ryan is in play, he goes outside with her, while I’m stuck inside. Turns out that the one smoking outside is in her 40s, the guy inside is her brother (and a total douche by the way), and he’s dating (or more likely) just nailing the other woman. I think the two women are roommates.

As Ryan is outside with the 40-year-old for a while, I have to make small-talk with the brother. He’s offering to hook me up with one of the women around us. Though it seems like there are A LOT of women in the bar this night. It doesn’t really matter to me since I’m crazy over another girl. But I indulge him and say okay, that girl. He tries to get her attention without even leaving his seat. Really? …we got a real winner here. I’m just thinking, “Thanks, but no thanks bro.” Seriously, I don’t think I have much game, but I could do better without his “help.”

For what seemed like an eternity later, Ryan and the 40-year-old come back. We leave. Ryan doesn’t get her number because she said her brother would stab him…I believe it.

That night I wasn’t interested in talking to new women, but I definitely didn’t want to be stuck talking to some seemingly unstable d-bag, waiting — with an empty beer, looking around, uncomfortably — for my friend to come back.

This was when I realized something about my bro-lationship with Ryan. It just doesn’t work as well when one of us is already interested in another girl. We’re either holding back, or trying to push the other more to compensate. I still don’t know if there’s a way around it, but for now, I’ll document these crazy nights instead of living them for a while.


The Pancakes Story

In my adventures with Ryan, my trust in women has started to decline…dramatically. My reason? Pancakes.

The story starts off normally, where we take a cab to Campbell and head to Katie Bloom’s. It’s been a while, so I don’t remember if we hop to other bars and came back, or just stay here all night; in all probability, it’s the former. But the night is about halfway through and we’re on the dance floor looking for women to dance with, to no avail. I leave to get the next round of drinks, and when I come back, Ryan is dancing with two women. I really don’t understand how these scenarios happen. One of us leaves the area to get drinks or go to the bathroom and the other is approached by women. I wish I could tell the Taqueria Incident, because that one was funny, but alas, I cannot.

Anyway, we pair off and we’re dancing with these two women for the rest of the night. It hits last call, and the club starts to close down as the four of us are outside discussing what to do next…oh, before I go any further into the story, the one I’m dancing with has a ring on her left ring finger. I’m still not sure if it is an engagement ring or otherwise, but I reserved judgement while also being very aware of a potential disaster. Let’s call this one Samantha, and the one Ryan was dancing with shall be named Marcy.

Samantha admits to be in her thirties, and Ryan, being the youngest of us four, claims to be her age as well. This isn’t really pertinent to the story, but it’s one of the dumb things we tend to say while drinking. Who am I kidding, we say stupid things when we’re sober, but I digress. Samantha and Marcy want to go get pancakes, so being the idiots that Ryan and I are, we say okay and walk to the restaurant, which is about a 30-minute walk.

While ordering and waiting for our food, (I forget if who brought it up, Ryan or myself) someone calls Samantha out for wearing a ring. She responds with, “I have a fella.” THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?!

…and we ask her that, though maybe not in that strong of a tone. She declines to explain if it meant she was engaged, married, or if it’s just something else.

After small-talk and sustenance, we leave the restaurant and part ways. Ryan then looks at me and asks, “Should we?” I say, “Yeah, why not.” The girls are about 30-40 feet away from us when Ryan shouts, “Hey Marcy, can I have your number?!”

Marcy calmly walks back and says okay, but that she has a boyfriend. Ryan and I are then confused as to why she still gives him her number. So I think, what’s the worst that could happen and shout, “Hey Samantha, can I have your number?!” She walks back as well and gives me her number, even though she has a “fella,” whatever that means.

Numbers are exchanged, goodbyes are said, they walk off, and we walk to Ryan’s place. Ryan thinks it would be faster to just walk back (which took about an hour and a half) instead of trying to find a cab, which is true, because we’re on a street where cabs don’t really drive by. So we start our hobbit’s journey back to Ryan place, confused and swearing, “Why did they give us their numbers?!”

After this incident, them giving us their numbers and doing what they did on the dance floor, I kind of feel bad for their fellas and lose trust in womankind.

There are technically 2 more parts to this story, but the second one is short enough that it’ll be combined with the Act 3 of our story later on.


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.