Sunday, January 13, 2008

Cool Guy.

Last night a friend and I ventured into the cold and wet Viagra triangle of Chicago. We started early, pomegranate martinis in a hotel bar, then off to Rockit where I couldn't take my eyes off of Tom Brady's arse and pass-perfection. So much so that I had to answer a strangers question of : "Wow, you are really into football eh?" with a clear, and visibly annoyed to be bothered: "No, I am really into my boyfriend, Tom." He walked away. It worked.

The night went on, we simmered in our drinks, laughed about how I looked slightly like peter pan in my leggings, high-boots and belted tunic. (well, a cute sienna-miller-styled-peter pan - of course)We giggled in the freedom we had. We contemplated that we could get back to our hotel room at any hour, and sleep in despite the grand irony that we probably wont be out late and will be up by 7am.We parked ourselves at Luxbar and tuned out the scene.

Unlucky for us, a decent looking man approached us, made some obscure unfunny joke about our guacamole and planted himself between us. This is where I feel my tolerance has waned with age. He was the "cool guy" who was completely unaware of himself, or our reaction to him. His first sentence was this: "I have a had a strange day." I said nothing and stared at him with lifted eyebrow. I don't care? I didn't ask, and I know he was hoping we would ask the surely-to disappoint-question in return: "Really.... why?" My friend is from the south, and therefore pretty gracious of men's fragile egos, so she complied.

He went on, and this is not embellished, or edited, no shite, he said it like this: "Yeah, I was at the East Bank Club (plug about his high-society gym) and went down to the bar and drank with all of my friends (there were none with him) because I had a hard day at work. Had to work on a Saturday. Yep. That's what you do when you own your own business, its cool though, I was in the Navy so I am a hard worker. I was going to wash my corvette but the weather guy said it would snow, so I didn't" WHAT THE SHITE?!

This is the point at which I was waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out with some new show titled "TMI drop stud show?" Maybe this type of thing can get the girls squirming in their knickers to hear more. I wanted to pimp slap him, explain that corvettes suck, and break down his self-inflated ego one artificial layer at a time. ( I didn't)

I guess I need less sell, more humanness. Perhaps I'm just not into self-aggrandizing. Hell, I will take the honesty approach even if its boring. It's real. Or the random questions guy, or the quiet nervous one. Anything over this shadow of man. Be inventive. I once had a man(who turned out to be a big CEO) tell me he was "clown 4 at the riverside circus rotation". That was funny. If nothing else, creative.

I have a new appreciation for the single women in the world. This type of obligatory, necessary crap-show of goons was tiresome and deflating. Not only does your presence in a bar get translated as a signal to meet(even if you just want to gab with friends), but it offers so many strange and forced scenarios. Paying the crazy singing lady in the bathroom to hand you a towel. Rubbing butts with every man standing in the crowd lining the bar. Inevitably paying more than you should because you are too lazy to really look at the tab....and some nights, at best you talk to "Cool guy" for half an hour because you don't want to lose your seats, and he has no radar picking up the signal of "Go the FECK away."

Godspeed women. May the force be with you.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Ewww gross!