10 April, 2011

Being Hit On: Beer, Bad Lines, and Maverick

As a female that doesn’t resemble what I would imagine Shrek would look like in real life, I’ve found myself being hit on. Sometime’s it’s funny, leads into polite small talk, and ends in a goodbye with both parties knowing we’d never see each other again. However 99% of the times women get hit on it’s by sleaze or overconfident men who have a Short-man complex.

Most times it’s laughable at the lines the guy feels the need to feed you to get your attention. This generally ends up in one or more wingman picking off the weakest members of your girl herd first, like lions on a stampede of gazelles, which is like a car accident in slow motion because you know they’re clearing a path to get to you.

My friend’s birthday was last night, so we decided to go out with her sister and a few of her girlfriends, get a hotel downtown Toronto, and go for dinner and then a bar to dance and have a few drinks. I’ll recap the events for you in order.

I woke up Saturday, fairly later than I wanted to. I had plans to meet the birthday girl at 11:30am at the nail salon so we could get our pedicures on, and then go right downtown from there. Needless to say I woke up late and forgot I had to pack now, because I wouldn’t be home after the salon. I rushed around, throwing shit in my overnight LuLu Lemon bag, and rushed around, with about 10 minutes before I had to leave for our appointment. I had jumped in the shower and realized I should probably shave my legs if I was wearing a dress, and I ended up spending too long in there.

I spent about 5 minutes throwing on the least amount of makeup that would be deemed socially acceptable as to not scare the public, and 5 minutes half assed blow drying my hair and running my flat iron over it haphazardly. In the end we had to move our appointment to noon and I showed up with hair reminiscent of a male lion, and makeup with all the precision of a handicapped child using a crayon to apply eye liner.

Let me just say that my pedicurist told me that I had amazing hair, which I wanted to look around and see if she was actually talking to me. Then she proceeded to translate the pedicurist beside her, and told me that she thought I was pretty. This begins the day I had.

We get downtown and into the hotel. My friend’s sister decided to take a nap, and my friend and I proceeded to walk to the LCBO, as it was beautiful and sunny outside – my hair and makeup is still the same as before. We walk by this homeless guy who is outside the LCBO, I’m assuming begging for spare tall boys, and as we walk by I can see him looking at us. After our girlish purchases of Baby Duck were bought, we walked back out and past this dude. While we walk, I see him eyeballing, and he says something like: “Oh boy, look at you!” Then he proceeds to catcall as we keep walking. About 5 minutes down the road, there is a man on a bike, who is biking by us. He feels the need to yell out “Hello, ladies!” as he bikes by. What the hell is going on right now in Toronto?

The evening progresses and we find ourselves having eaten dinner and inside the bar where we were meeting the rest of the group. The first instance is after I have gotten my pretentious “we-don’t-sell-mainstream-beer-here” beer, and am standing waiting for my friends. Two guys standing beside me I can see looking at me through my peripheral vision. Just as I suspected, the wingman touches my arm to get my attention, the second guy sheepishly standing beside him. This is somewhat how the conversation went:

Him: Excuse me, did you just poke me?

Me: Are you serious?

Him: Ya, I felt someone poke me, was that you?

Me: I was standing here the whole time, so no I don’t think I did.

Him: Are you sure?

Me: I'm 100% sure

Him: This is my friend “__” (I have no idea what his name is) *We shake hands*

Friend: Hi

Me: *leans into the first guy and says:* So, you’re the wingman tonight?

Him: I don’t know what that means?

Me: Are you Iceman? I’ll be Maverick.

Him: I’d rather be Goose

Me: Goose died, you don’t want to be Goose.

Anyway, basically the friend was shamed, and walked away as this guy tells me he has no idea what a wingman is. Some more crap about if no one has married me yet they’re a fool. My friends were leaving the bar at this point and I bid a polite “see you never again!” This was a pick up line that I have not heard, nor would ever like to hear again. Men take notes.

Next, we’re standing in a group of about 10 or so people. Randomly I have this timid looking guy nervously taping my shoulder. I turn around and we have a brief conversation that went like this:

Him: Um, hi, my friend wanted me to go up to the hottest girl in the bar and see if I could get her number. What did I tell her? (*Please keep in mind he is very nervous, and I can tell he did not think of this himself, as it makes no sense)

Me: I have no idea, what did you tell her?

Him: I mean what should I tell her?

Me: I still have no idea what you’re asking me, sorry

Him: She told me to go up to the hottest girl in the bar and get her number

Me: Did you get her number?

Him: Um… what?

Me: I have a boyfriend, sorry, I don’t give out my number

Him: You don’t have to lie, you can tell me you’re not interested

Me: You never asked me a question, and I'm not interested as I have a boyfriend

Him: What’s his name?

Me: Is this a test?

Him: Ok sorry *Walks away*

This one left me confused, and generally feeling bad for this poor asshole. He obviously was fed a line to tell a girl, and he got it wrong, then had no idea he said it wrong until I pointed it out. Then proceeded to make no sense still, not even asking me a question. What did he expect I was going to do? “What should you tell her? Hell! Tell her you got yourself a number!” No.

Later in the evening I am standing with my friend’s sister chatting. And again, a lion hunt, two guys eyeballing us and what I can only describe as a “de-briefing” before one of them walked up to us and pointed at my friend’s sister, arm outstretched, and beckons her over. He says “You! Come here!” She pulls her hand and introduces her to his friend. Then, he then holds out his hand for me. I walk a step over and he says:

Him: I know this is super rude to ask, but how old are you?

Me: If it’s rude why are you asking?

Him: I'm just curious, you’re pretty tall

Me: How old do I look?

Him: 20

Me: Wow thanks

Him: How old do you think I am?

Me: 24

Him: I'm 23

Me: Sweet

At this time, someone else taps me on my shoulder behind me. I thought there may be a pickup line bar brawl, but it turns out it was a guy friend of mine who I haven’t seen for a while. I gave him a hug and turned around to see the guy I was just talking to slink away.

At the end of the night we were sitting on barstools at a table when some guy sitting next to us leans in and starts chatting to the birthday girl, leaving me and her sister alone beside her. A few minutes of them chatting and then two short guys came over to us. One guy started talking to my friend’s sister, which I will tell you about in a minute. The conversation was as follows:

Him: Can I ask you a question; well I have a couple questions

Me: You get one question

Him: How tall are you? You look pretty tall

Me: *I stand up and tower over him, I literally am at least a head taller than him*

Him: You suddenly have made me feel very emasculated, but you have tall shoes on

Me: I’m about 6’1 with shoes on

Him: I’m probably the same height as you normally

Me: I'm literally a head taller than you, I doubt that

Him: Why you gotta rub that in?

Me: I'm just pointing it out that there’s no way you’re as tall as me

*My friend and her sister motion that our ride is here and they start to get up off their stools. My friend is about 1 or two inches taller than me normally, so you can imagine what she looks like with heels on also, plus her sister is a pretty decent height, also with heels*

We stand up and all of a sudden the guy that was talking to me goes:

Him: Holy shit, are you guys in the fucking women’s NBA? How the hell are you so tall?

Me: We’re Amazon women.

Not my finest quip, but it must have been funny walking away, all of us super tall and leggy. I found out after my friend’s sister was asked if I was 28. When she told me that, I complained the whole time we were in the coat check line. I'm turning 25 damnit.

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