[The "why I'm so angry" post will come later. Like I said, I'll keep up the anticipation.]
I have a hard time understanding the "bar scene" sometimes, specifically the interactions between men and women.
According to my sister, women give off phermones or whatever when they're ovulating. She almost has me convinced, and here's why.
I went out Friday and Saturday night. I looked pretty good both nights...but not like super hot or anything. I'm a modest person for the most part, so bear with me here...the flow (pun intended) of men in my general direction was unprecedented. I mean...we're talking I was surrounded.
Friday night found Miss Lisa and I at a bar she visits frequently, mostly because she just happens to work there and knows everyone. It's a nice feeling, you can be comfortable and there's always some guy who works there who Lisa knows that wouldn't let anyone fuck with us. So, the crazy amount of men surrounding her and Courtney and I could have had something to do with that (uh, most likely) but that doesn't explain Saturday night.
Saturday night I went out with my older friend for her 43rd birthday. We went to some local places in the middle of nowhere and, once again, I was like a man magnet. Bartenders (ok, ok, kind of their job) and patrons alike were all up in my biz. It felt nice...I haven't felt all that attractive in quite some time.
But the real kicker brings us back to Friday night. I meet Sean, who is 30 and won't stop talking about how great my lips are. I have great lips, true, but I'm uncomfortable with compliments that have anything to do with my face (why? god, I don't know either...perhaps something to do with not being used to them) and it was throwing me off my game. So, before I leave, I ask Sean if he wants my number. He says yes, I give it to him and I say "So, you remember my name, right?" Well, the answer was no and I just think that's lame. You've been talking to me for an hour or more and you don't remember my name, nor did you ask for it again once you became more interested. Call me picky, but that's just asking for me to critize your people skills. He's in sales too which is just sad. Don't they teach you those weird word associations when you're in sales to remember people's names? For god's sake...
Nevertheless, I speak with Sean later that evening and he suggests I come over to his place "for some beers." Uhm...I don't know you, it's 2am and I'm really tired. If you want to get laid, perhaps you should just come out and say it. What's with the games? Why can't this hornball just be straight with me? Granted it wouldn't have changed my answer, but at least I'd have a little more respect for the guy and maybe, just maybe, consider going on an actual date with him.
And then when you find a guy you actually like who wouldn't do crap like that, he's a big pussy and just won't ask you out on a date already and then you have to do it and you're afraid he's going to say no because then you'll have to cry in your bed for a day or so because you can't handle any more rejection.
For today, I give up.