Saturday night with my belle. The Blair to my Serena, my twinnie from another minnie, the salt to my pepper. Yes we have been known to get into some pickles and last Saturday was no exception. The idea was few drinks, a few giggles and a good catch up. Instead we got served up a large helping of irritating men with a side of sleaze and a sprinkle of well meaning life advice.
When you go out in a two, one of you being single and one of you being not so single, there’s the danger you’ll be handed the wingwoman gauntlet. You know the one- that friend that will babysit that hot guy’s ugly friend, ignore the nose hair and not even mention the fact that he’s got my name wrong 3 times and seems to be unable to keep eye contact (with my eyes at least). Ok well as you can probably guess, I was wingwoman & if I do say so myself I generally do a pretty good job!
I smile politely, laugh at all the right times and keep the dumbest one of dumb and dumber occupied with conversations about non consequential nothingness while my bff is happily chatting away. That’s until they start to blag/ make stuff up/ or get too big for their boots – that’s when I start to have some fun of my own.
The Blagger. On finding out I work in advertising he suddenly worked in advertising too.. What a small world! He immediately jumped aboard the blaggers ship attempting to impress me with his knowledge of “those viral things” and the fact he’d worked with loads of ad surfers. He obviously thought that I’d be impressed by a few quickly delivered statements of completely made up content and the fact that he knew the word viral.. He definitely picked the wrong blonde.
If he’d have just been honest and told me what he really did for a living I could happily humour him and chat away but the fact the he kept hurtling further down that rabbit hole, tripping himself up at every hurdle, was just too much fun to shy away from. Catching someone out is so much better when you have 20 mins of ammunition to use against them. Our conversation flowed with me asking him if he’d heard of mediaworld as that’s where I worked and him enthusiastically yabbering on about how amazing their work was (they don’t exist) and me baiting him further saying that it was down to me that the Coca Cola branding is red.
So I let him carry on and then casually said “so what is it you really do, because the last half hour was absolute bullshit and can you please explain to me what an “ad surfer” is”. Turned to my right to see his mate and my mate open mouthed waiting to see what would come next. Turned out so he sold wood for a living. Online content/wood-easy mistake to make.
Mr Swagger. Dancing away. Again I’m doing the bff duty of smiling politely as the next tweedle dee and tweedle dumb duo chew our ears off about the music and bottles of grey goose (why do guys do this?!)- I can handle that though, whatever floats their boat. Until one of them, despite me explaining I’m not interested AND taken says “babe..you know you’re my ideal kind of bird, what you saying?”. It’s on.
Oh I should be flattered by this very generic compliment- I hear you cry! Is it a compliment if he looks like Ali G’s little brother complete with sunglasses on indoors? (Why?!) Anyhow I’m in no way flattered and this is precisely where Mr Swagger can be firmly placed back into his flower pot to grow up.
“Unless I’ve temporarily forgotten starring in the movie with the cute little pig- I’m definitely not babe and as I can’t fly I’m willing to put money on myself not being a bird”. I proceeded to do the eye and memory test by closing my eyes and asking him what colour my eyes are- uh green? and then what my name was- it begins with L? Obviously not a match made in heaven then, what a shame. I shan’t be losing sleep over it.
The Tough Guy. Being an absolute fountain of knowledge after a bottle or 4 of wine I decide to take it upon myself to discuss the bouncer’s career path with him. I’m not sure whether this is a typical girl thing or whether it’s just me that turns into Karen Brady after a night on the sauce?
I also turn into someone that gives advice that sounds like one of those inspirational quotes that is generally plastered over an image of a tree and shared all over Facebook “live your dreams, do what you love and you will never work a day in your life” – much to the amusement/ despair of the bouncer who simply asked if I could leave my drink inside. Encouraged by my faith in him to become the next Richard Branson, he begins to flex his muscles and discuss all the people he has to “deal with on a regular ” painting himself as a modern day Superman fighting off a world full of drunken bandits. “Who would look out for Cinderella if I wasn’t here”.. yes he actually referred to me as a Disney character, it’s almost as if he knew my history with shoes!
The Eyebrow. Whilst I’ve been giving life advice to a very amused bouncer who has very kindly allowed me to sneak my drink outside, probably in an attempt to get me to shut up. I turn round and my beaut of a bff has just been chatting to a guy. I look to his left and no lie, this guy is what I can only describe as Lord Of the Ring’s finest – Golum. He’s giving me the eyebrow, I say eyebrow (singular) as there was just the one, all be it a very long one. I’ve well and truly done my wingwoman duties to death tonight and this guy looks like all his Christmasses have come at once. After the speech about being taken and Mr. Eyebrow not buying it and pursuing me with stories of his very nice car, I’ve subtly switched my rings over and brought the faux engagement out to play in an attempt to get him to back the fuck up. Eventually he believed me and offered me a piggy back to the bus stop, why ever not?
I guess if my life was boring and if I stuck to nodding and smiling as most would, then I’d have nothing to write about. But I guess what I’m saying here is, when striking up a conversation with a stranger in a bar why not start with something a bit less generic. I’d much rather ponder on whether it’d be better to have arms as legs or legs as arms (arms as legs btw) than talk about your new car. I will continue to stick to modern day good manners in girl world and have my ear unceremoniously bent by an undesirable if my BFF is getting chatted up by his cute mate. BUT beware the blaggers, swaggers and anyone that begins their conversation with “babe you’d love my Mercedes” that you will probably regret starting that conversation ;)
Peace, Love & False Lashes