"Carol were you trying to flirt with that guy?" Asked a staff member at my favorite bar this past Saturday.
"Ugh... yes? I'm actually not entirely sure what that was."
"Yeah... Something... was happening there."
"Did he seem into it at least?"
"Whatcha drinkin' honey?"
What goes through my brain when I'm talking to a man I find very attractive, especially if he is also smart and funny? Nothing. NOTHING!! It's like being black out drunk without the excessive alcohol or any justification for what I just subjected this man to.
"Wait? I said what to him? Why would I say THAT?!"
"There was dancing? Was anyone else dancing?"
"That isn't even the right context for the term Bossy Bottom.... Oh, God!"
Maybe it's the jock in me but I really feel a game tape of ...of... what ever you can describe me as doing would really help. So, here I review this past Saturday; because in all honesty I had no idea how painful it was to watch from a distance until it was reviewed.
I would like to say first off I don't think I was flirting, I might have been, I hope not, poor man...
I've seen this man around for a long time and always thought he was very handsome but called it a day at that. Then we started interacting a bit and... Damn it! He's funny. And smart. Shit. Here comes a lot of hand movements and fidgeting.
So, each conversation since the first one has become that much worse and more awkward than the last one. I came over at first to chat with his two friends who I have worked with in the past and enjoy so I wanted to say, "hey." Then, as it was pointed out to me afterwards, while they were all sitting I stood (all 6'1" of me) towering over them. Only pulling up a chair when one of his friends said, "pull up a chair so I can tell you a tale about my youth in Nazi Germany. " I did as told and waited for his story- then realized he is 30, not 70. That's what we call a bit.
Fine, do your little bit. I'm about to charm the pants off your attractive friend.
This might be the place to mention I was in work out clothes, hair in a bun, and no make up. I continuously zipped and unzipped my Chicago Marathon jacket. Repeatedly covering and uncovering my face. Just a lot of zippering happened.
I felt a good conversation topic was how Dick Cheney is over compensating for a small penis, then proceeded to act out what I imagine Dick Cheney masturbating looks like. Topped it off with, "hope you dream about that and think of me." Oh, Carol...
I was told asking people about themselves is good, it's like a nice thing to do. It shows you are interested in them. I kept asking the same question over and over again about his work and don't know why I would think there would be any kind of different answer than what he had just said. What was Einstein's definition of insanity?
Then looking for a conversation change to me asking the same question over and over again I came out with, "You seem like the kind of guy who didn't peak in high school. No... ya know. Like you weren't cool. I mean. Your. ya know. Your best days weren't in high school. Right? I hope."
Accusing a guy of being uncool in high school never helps. Shockingly when he and his friends (again people I know and can chat with) were leaving to get food I was not invited. I did mention I was very hungry and eventually one of the guys (not the one I just awkward all over) said, "uh.. you can come, er, if you. ah, want to."
I stayed, got tater tots from next door. Ran around like a crazy woman because my sister had just called me to tell me she had gone into labor. And then was told how awkward my interaction looked like from a distance.
I keep reminding people: it might be painful to watch me interact with men, but I have to live with being this. All of this.
So... I think we can all say it together, "Nailed it."