Take A Number, Please.

It's a bit weird when you run into a friend's ex-girlfriend. I like to think that I'd say hi when I see them, but the truth is that I'll only do it when I know for certain that they've seen me. Even then, I say hi very softly just in case I actually slipped passed their vision. Let's face it, though. I'm not very hard to miss.

So, we end up exchanging as few words as possible, at least on my side. I try to not let things go passed "hi", unless I really got along with the girl. But when it's your friend's brother's ex (did you follow that?), I won't even say anything.

And oh boy is it fun when they're out with another guy! In the back of my head, all I'm thinking is "haha! You're the idiot who came after my friend." 9 times out of 10, the girl is completely crazy and good on your friend for getting out of that circus they called a relationship. Then there's the 1 time that you know your friend is still at home and crying his eyes out after reruns of Scrubs. Great show, by the way.

Seeing as I've had the fewest exes of all my friends, I wonder what my friends will think of my future ex-girlfriend. Hopefully, they'll treat her with the respect that she probably deserves and the dignity every human should receive. This is all just in the moment, of course. We'll drag her name through the mud later, the bitch.

You Just Hush Your Mouth

When I was a younger guy, I took pride in the fact that I could talk to any girl in the bar. My friends held me in high esteem for this, what I considered very simple, ability. They would send me into the field when all hope of leaving with a lady's number seemed all but lost. In retrospect, I'm making it seem like I was a Green Beret of vagina. But, that's what it felt like.

I'd get my directive and hone in on the target. My approach would be stealth, their defenses down, and I'd move in for the kill with a swift "hey, what's going on?" of my mouth machete. By the end of the night, everyone was laughing and a conversation was had. Sometimes it ended with makeouts, others with hugs and handshakes, while most ended with numbers exchanged. My friends were happy and things went better than expected.

Now a days, I'm like the bitter, old vet who scowls when they see something they don't like. I find myself not having any patience to speak to some girls when only a few years ago, I'd talk to any of them. If she wasn't interesting, I wouldn't ask for her number at the end of the night. She would just be someone to chat with and I'd find something that would link us together and carry the conversation for the rest of the evening. We'd laugh and in the back of my head I'd silently whisper, "gosh you're a dumb girl." Those words are now a struggle to keep in my head and the booze ain't helping. 

It's no longer about trying to keep the girl entertained enough to get a reward at the end of the night. If she's (let's call it what it is) an idiot then I will have absolutely no tolerance for it. The worst part is that I don't leave. Why don't I leave? It's not hard to simply turn around and walk away while she blabs on about her crappy day care job. My brain is yelling at me "freaking bail, man!" But I don't. 

Know why? Because I'm cooler than her. That's why! 

This conversation is no longer about you. No, it's not about getting your number nor because you have the hottest body in the joint. It's because I'm cooler than you and I'm not leaving until you know it. It's about me and how cool I am and how much you suck compared to the thunderbolt of awesomeness that is my life. You're going to love me and find me witty, funny, and charming. Maybe another idiot will fall prey to your trap, but not me.

Well, I guess I'll try my hand at speed dating. Seems like those people might have the right idea.