Trying To Meet Women The Old-Fashioned Way
I'm not sure why women would give me their numbers, even unsolicited on my part. When they do, and I reach out, why do they not return my calls? Is it a game, give out their number, then see which idiot calls. Is there a bell near their phones that they ring, like bartenders when they receive tips.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
I have a face made for online dating. Not because I am devilishly handsome, and women fall for me at first sight.
On the contrary, with online dating, I control the first look women have of me. I decide which slightly blurry old photograph, taken at just the right angle, where I pass for attractive. This way a woman could get to know me before meeting me face-to-face.
Why do I need this buffer?
Well, if there is one thing I know about myself, I can write funny e-mails. Once I get someone to laugh, I've won half the battle.
However, before online dating, I had to meet women the old-fashioned way.
Drinking, and going to bars.
I admit, I’ve never been good at meeting women, whether in a bar or on the street (not hookers). There aren’t many success stories of a long-term relationship with a woman I met in a bar. I met my ex-wife in a bar, though (enough said).
Maybe it was me, the way I presented myself. One Friday night long ago, I stood at the bar at a local restaurant. After only two beers, the bartender asked me if I was alright.
I assured him I was fine, but asked why the inquiry.
"Okay," he said, "I had to ask,” then added, “you look angry."
The next night, in another bar, after one or two beers, that bartender came up to me and asked me if I was okay.
I assured him I was.
"Okay," he said, "just wanted to check,” then added, “you look angry."
I understand, but let’s look at the other side of that coin.
Would you rather see someone upset, or see a six-foot-two-inch man, with wild grin, alone, at the end of a bar, as he sipped a beer and stared off into space?
I’ll take what’s behind Door Number One.
Live and learn.
Although, I did have a few barroom encounters which I thought could have ended better.
Let me preface this first encounter by stating the following:
After my initial separation, I had a hard time concentrating or getting any sleep. This went on for quite a while, to the point where I needed some help.
A doctor (bless her heart) to whom I just told my aforementioned problems, reached into a drawer and handed me samples of Zoloft. Not only that, she prescribed additional supplies.
While on Zoloft, I had no anxiety, zero.
I credit Zoloft and the beer I wasn't supposed to be drinking, with what happened next.
It was a random Saturday afternoon in Hoboken, New Jersey, and found myself standing alone in a bar. I looked over and saw a very pretty woman being bothered by the man that stood next to her. With each step back she took her unwanted companion matched it with his own step forward.
I then did something I had only seen done in movies. Something I had never done before, or since. I stepped in between the woman and her unwanted friend, slipped my arm around her waist and said, "There you are, I've been looking for you" and glided her away.
Thank you, Zoloft.
The rest of the day flew by, we had great conversations, and we laughed, a lot. She lived in Brooklyn but her family was originally from East Brunswick, New Jersey, which is not far from me. Just before she left with her friends, I asked for her number, and she gave it to me.
The following Monday I called her from work.
"Hello?" she answered.
I said who I was, and she quickly replied, "Can I call you right back?"
That was over a decade ago, I'm almost ready to give up hope she’ll return my call (almost).
Jump ahead a few years from that encounter and again I’m in a crowded bar (Zoloft free). I’m with my friend Kevin, who looks over my right shoulder as we talk. He told me a woman across the bar kept looking at me.
I laughed it off, but he insisted that she was. I turned and scanned the crowd (I am so smooth) and found the woman on the other side of the bar. A man stood next to her, who leaned in close, and talked to her, continuously.
She looked bored, and a few seconds later, she turned away from him and looked directly at me. She then repeated the routine.
She listened, she listened, she turned, she looked.
This was new.
A short time later she left her companion and moved toward the restrooms. However, instead of taking the less obstructed route, she cut through the crowded bar and squeezed past me.
"She did that on purpose," Kevin said, and I surprisingly agreed.
On her return, she took the same path back, until we stood eye-to-eye. Her right hand appeared, and she handed me her business card, all without saying a word. She returned to her companion but continued the flirtatious glances in my direction.
The next day (too soon?) I called the number on her card. Unfortunately, it went directly to voice mail.
I told my female co-workers what happened, and asked them if I should call her again since she hadn’t replied. They unanimously agreed that I should not call her again. They all agreed I should wait for her to return my call.
So, of course, I called again and left another message on her voicemail.
Maybe she was on the phone with the girl from Hoboken, but I never heard from her.
I'm not sure why women would give me their numbers, even unsolicited on my part, and then never return the calls.
Why not just give me a fake number, anything that begins with ‘555’ will be fine.
Once met a woman at a bar, she gave me her number, and I called it as soon as I got home. Just wanted to be sure she didn’t give me the number for the local Pizza Hut (it wasn’t).
Back to online dating I went. But, just to be safe, if in the future you happen upon a slightly blurry man who, given the right angle could pass for attractive, and is grinning wildly to himself while sipping a beer, that will be me.
