I met a couple of friends out last night for some cocktails at our local watering hole. It was fun chatting with the gals until an older gentleman set his sights on us and ruined what would have been a really fun GNO.
Now when I say "older" I'm not talking about the boy who was a senior when you were a freshman. I'm talking about the guy who's too old to be hitting on anyone outside of the bingo halls. I've had run-ins with this guy before. He not only has a taste for a fresh catch, but thinks he's a pro angler. There is nothing worse than a coffin-dodger with an over-inflated ego!
So, we're sitting there enjoying ourselves when my friends decide to powder their noses just as Rip realizes he needs another drink. There I was, at the bar all by myself, empty bar stools to the right and left, just asking for it! Next thing I know he creeps up next to me, gives me a shove and asks, "So what are the specials tonight?" First off, ladies, let me say that this guy gives new meaning to the term "beer belly." I'd pay this guy to walk into a pub, sport a "belly up to the bar" t-shirt and hoist his stomach up onto the counter just for laughs. If someone would knock him down, I bet he'd flail like a flipped turtle. If he had to reach for a bar napkin, there'd be a lot of lonely bar napkins. You get the idea. So I responded, "Maybe you should ask the bartender," while turning my head in the opposite direction, thinking he'd get the hint that I was not interested in getting to know his distended midsection on a personal level. To my dismay, he decided to move in a little closer. Now, ladies, I am unusually protective of my personal space. My face and body language will scream "NO TRESPASSING" when I'm not interested. That's why I'm baffled when these men ignore the signs and walk all over my grass. So, I shot him a look. He then informed me that he thought I was "grumpy." And it was at this moment that I wished I had the power to make things, or people, spontaneously combust. He would have gone up like paper at a pyro convention. The second look made him stand down.
Someone once told me that I had "intense" eyebrows. I use them to my advantage in situations like this. I also use them to coerce my dad to wash my car. I guess they are a gift from The Big Man. Anyway!
My friends thankfully returned and we resumed our giggle session. After a few minutes, I saw a flash of light coming from behind us. This old fart apparently had a new-aged cell phone and was snapping pics of us without our written or verbal consent. At this point, watching him go up in flames wasn't enough. First I'd like for him to be doused in some sort of flesh-eating liquid, THEN set ablaze.
It was at this point that I realized something. All the guys I have dated, who have done things to send up a flare or signal a flag, will eventually morph into a guy just like this. They will be wobbling into bars, using the same pathetic pick-up lines, holding onto a distorted sense of which fish their beat up bodies can net. I smirked at the thought of "what's-his-nuts" ten years from now, with less hair and muscle tone, standing in that spot at that bar, surrounded by younger versions of himself slowly phasing him out.
I turned to the has-been, smiled big and said "cheeeeeeese!"
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