I've always said this...I should not be allowed to frollick freely amongst the rest of the human population.
Another Friday night spent at "Cheers". For the most part, it was fun. Or should I say to be better accurate, I didnt exactly have an unfun night. There were moments. Oh boy, there were moments. I'm starting to realize I dont quite keep my mouth shut as much as I once did. And I wasnt even drinking. Which in itself may be the problem.
Becca is on a total manhunt. Anything. Everything. If that is what she wants, then have at it. It was just young boy night at "Cheers". We were talking to this guy at the next table. Talking to someone isnt an open invitation to come over to our table and spill beer on us all night. She went over to the bar with him at one point and came back and told me he said his friend wanted my number. I commented on how young he looked and asked her how old he is. Nineteen. Nine-fucking-teen. TEEN. Apparently he used a fake ID to even get in there. Me with a 19 year old...that is so not happening.
We went outside so she could smoke. They were calling last call anyway. As I walked out the door, an older (probably 50-something) guy asked if they were closing. I told him no, but they did call last call. He rolls his eyes and says Duh, I know that. No he didnt. I just looked at him and said Then you figure your own shit out. And I walked away.
I sat down on the bench outside. Becca next to me and some drunk ass passed out on another bench. Nice. Eventually his friends came out to try to wake him up. At first I didnt know they were his friends. I thought it was just two random guys messing with a drunk guy...so I snapped at them about it. They were taking off his shoes...putting a lit cigarette in his hand...just stupid shit. Then the third friend came over to straighten everyone out. He seemed sober, mature and nice. I sat on one bench with Becca...next bench was nice guy, jack ass and drunk ass. As Im talking with the nice guy, the idiot friend was kicking him onto my lap. Listen, if you want your friend to sit on my lap you can just say so. There's no need to be immature and kick him like we're a bunch of 6 year olds on the playground for recess. He got up and went away. Mission accomplished.
I sat there talking to the nice guy for a while. He apologized for his friends. He was saying they are all older than he is yet they are the immature ones. I wholeheartedly agreed. He went on to say how he usually does the wingman thing for his friends and how he sucks at it when it comes to him. My conversation was interrupted by a drunk girl screaming Are you trying to tell me about hockey...no one tells me about hockey...so dont tell me about hockey. She just kept going and getting louder and louder. And there I came no holds barred Well, someone should tell you to be quiet instead of standing here screeching the place up with an arguement that only you are having.
Then it came time to leave. I said goodbye to nice guy. He shook our hands again and said It has been very nice talking to you. And he left. Then there's my wing-woman who was asleep behin the wheel. Why did you not ask him for his number. He as hinting with the whole 'I dont do well with the initializing when it comes to me' thing. And he was probably a very nice one. Gee I dont know...you could've said something before he got in the car and left.
As we were leaving the guy from earlier, the one who kept spilling his beer on us, came out. He kept asking Becca if he was going home with her. And she kept explaining that she was staying at my house. And he kept asking...over and over again. Again...I just couldnt resist Ok drunk guy, you are blowing my mind here. How many times does she need to tell you that you arent coming home with her before it sinks in and you stop asking? Because you're persistence has turned into annoyance.
Here we go...bottom line...I dont normally talk to people the way that I talked to them last night. No, I dont at all. I'm definitely thinking that society as a whole shouldnt have to, or be allowed to, deal with me. Nope. Bad idea.