I WOULDA Gave You My Number...

My three bff's and I went out to a new town a while ago. Why not change it up?

I'd had a rough week and wasn't feeling like my usual self. None of my clothes seemed to look right and as soon as I went out side, my perfectly flat-ironed hair developed an awkward poofy wave.

Hello New Men!

Yikes.

I drank two martinis at dinner to calm my nerves and had developed a healthy buzz before we left the restuarant. While I was saying silly things, I still felt unattractive, stuffed, and like the DUFF in mywonderful group of friends (who ever so kindly listened to me whine for probably felt like hours).

I forced a smile onto my face. Janelle and I were on the prowl, and this bar seemed full of eligible suitors. I spotted one right away at the bar. I'd overheard him talking about a certain company and interjected that my friend Elena worked there as well. The guy's friend said something stupid and I played along. But then I looked to my left and saw Janelle, Belinda and Seraphina laughing as they looked in my direction.

A break came in the conversation and at this point I felt like such crap about myself, I wanted to crawl into a hole.

Pour me another vodka tonic, please.

I attempted to put my best flip flop forward and we continued to circle the bar. Our fellow patrons were attractive enough, but I was in no mood to apparently embarass myself again. When Belinda's boyfriend and friends arrived, I stood with them while Seraphina and Janelle went off to see what else this bar had to offer.

Belinda's boyfriend handed me a shot of Jameson. Maybe liquor would have its usual effect on me and lighten my mood.

We circled a bit, people watched a lot, and I felt alright. Not great, just alright. I somehow started talking to a reasonably attractive male in his mid-twenties. He'd noticed me and the girls circling the bar like vultures on prey.

Shit. Caught in the act.

I denied his accusation and we discussed work. Turns out he was a Carnegie Mellon MBA student whose summer internship was at the company across the street from where I work!

This could work out nicely.

I chatted with him for a few, this time far from earshot of my girls (as much as I love them of course). His Guido/tiny Hispanic/questionably straight friend remained quiet, so me and Carnegie discussed work a bit more. He had a similar story to mine, which included lots of jobs and a bout of unemployment. He was smart and seemed nice enough. A few minutes later he excused himself to go to the boys's room.

I popped back over to my posse, but kept my eye out for Carnegie. He returned to his spot just a few steps away. I looked over and made eye contact but did not walk over, since I was unsure if his need to take a leak was real or not. He came toward me with tiny friend in tow. We continued chatting, talking about various topics, the normal stuff. We had even more in common, than I thought before. Conversation flowed nicely.

Tiny friend spoke up only to tell me my hair looked like a puff and was messed up. We had even more in common and shared a love for all things food-related.

Thank you Captain Obvious.

I'm sure I "accidently" shot him a death stare. I got slightly offended by this little Papi and thought it was rude he decided to tell me this. I thanked him in my most sarcastic tone for the reminder.

After this comment, the conversation got awkward. Carnegie and Tiny said they were going to depart, and they said nice to meet you and out the door they went. Oh, okay.

Don't worry, I won't get started with my nonsensical ramblings about having a spectacular connection with this stranger. But he could have pretended he had an interest. I mean, I get that he may have a girlfriend at home. Or, why would he bother taking my number knowing he's not going to use it? I don't know. But I'd rather pretend! That ego blow especially after my apparently terrible hair night just pushed me further into pathetic mode. Burn.

Weirder still is that Janelle also chatted with a guy at the bar for an extended period of time. And he also did not ask for her number. Did things operate differently in this town? I don't know if it was us or them, but I'm confused (and, per usual, rejected).