Thoughts

So Saturday night, in a rare turn of events, not only did I end up at the bar, but I actually found myself talking to girls. Trust me, I was as shocked as you. I headed out to the bar with a buddy from law school on Saturday in an effort to get out of the house. Also, we hadn't gone out together in awhile, so that was remedied.

While we stood watching Penn State secure their win over Ohio State, a girl came and stood between us. She excused herself explaining that she just wanted to watch the end of the game. Good for her. Sure she could have watched any one of the many TVs in the bar showing the same game, but she set her sights and went after it. I've heard stories of such events, though never been witness to one before this weekend.

So she and my buddy get to talking. I, as a good friend and wingman, interject enough to keep conversation going between them. I'm also good for a joke every now and again just to make sure everyone's paying attention; even if at one point I used his joke. So sue me. She wasn't around the first time when he used it, so when she came back I took the liberty. His fault for not using it. But after a reprimand, I did agree to parenthetically cite him when I use his joke(s) in front of girls he is courting.

I will be so bold as to say that I am good (not great) at helping out a friend in need in just such a situation. I say the right things to make you look good and keep everyone happy. It almost always is appreciated. Not Saturday.

One little comment and all of a sudden I am the bad guy. I can't help it; it slipped. I join the conversation late to find that this girl's dad was his teacher and football coach in high school.

Here is a short list of acceptable responses:
"Oh, no kidding."
"Great."
"Small world."

We also would have accepted:
"Huh. Ya don't say."

But not me. No, I like to think outside of the box:
"You played football?!?"

It was an accident. Such a harmless comment dripping in my tone of disbelief, though she did give a little sympathetic laugh and did the flirty hand on his forearm girlie thing. Even in my moment of weakness I help the kid out.

Sure I tried to explain that girls have cooties, but he had to go get her phone number anyway. It has to make you wonder why her friends responded to that bit of news as they did. What do you think, "No, she's a great girl. ...(just don't break up with her)," means?

Either way, a successful night. And a lot of fun. How come no one ever told me that talking to girls could be such a good time? Maybe I'll try it again sometime. Probably not, but maybe.