It didn’t go anywhere. I’ll begin with the ending, or as my neighbor referred to it, "the point." A guy’s hookup story has a beginning: "So I was at this barbecue and this hot girl was there with her boyfriend." A middle: "I totally made out with her while her boyfriend was getting wasted." And an end: "It didn’t go anywhere after that." That’s what you tell. It’s short, to the point, and seems to make logical sense to all parties involved. But get this. I’m still kinda stinging from the ending to this one.
The barbecue was a house-warming for a guy I don’t know, who is friends with many people I have never met. But this girl, hereafter to be referred to as Captain Jinglebuckles… or maybe Liz, has been in my scope for a few weeks now. I had been looking for the opportunity to catch a conversation with her since the first time I met her, her bikini, and her in her bikini.
For a guy, a pool can be fantastic trouble. The view is fantastic, for obvious reasons, and it’s not so irritating seeing a girl with her man, because we still get to see most of the business that he has to buy dinner and watch Dancing with the Stars to see. Fantastic. The trouble comes when you see a girl that is more than just "another girl in a bikini."
Bikini-girls are meant to remain nameless or name-forgettable. This maintains the balance of life at the watering hole. It’s mutually beneficial. They get to tan, we get to watch them tan. But when I first saw Liz things played out differently. She had the right looks, smile, and laugh, at just the right moment to provoke me into learning a little more. I kept it to asking around about her and getting some info on the guy she was coming to the pool with. The pool was not my moment... and also I kept making up excuses. "That's probably her boyfriend. She's probably just here to relax. I'm just here to relax etc. I see a girl that I’m interested in at a bar, and I bite my bottom lip, think for approximately 13.7 seconds, and then move in. Why not? But, I see a girl looking up at me from a pool chair through those Onassis glasses and it’s a little more intimidating. Pools are rough spots in those situations. Not at all as easy as, oh… let’s say… a Barbecue at a house warming party.
And so, I ran into her for the third time and it was on. Liz had that elegant but playful thing working for her that night and it was just too much. I had been told, and wasn’t surprised to find out, that the guy she kept showing up with was a gay friend of her's. So with that little boost I felt fine moving in and talking to her. We talked for a long while, got all the nonsense small talk out of the way and she was laughing and giving out all the signs that she was interested. We honestly had a lot in common once you got past the nonsense, and I was feeling pretty high. It seemed like it wasn't just fun flirting but might go on to date or two. But then I got an odd answer to a simple question. "How do you know Jon? (Her supposed gay friend, who had given no reason to suggest otherwise.)" Her response, "You mean, how did we meet?" My response, "Huh?"
Liz then went on to explain a very strange and eye-crossing bit of information. Jon was her "boyfriend" who didn't want to be seen as her "boyfriend" in this crowd. He had dated a girl before from the "group" (of which I didn't know, nor cared about) and felt uncomfortable with the idea of being "attached" when hanging around these people. It just brought up "bad memories..." Stop me if at any point this makes sense to you... Furthermore he was spending the night flirting and getting drunk with several other women at the party and it was clear that perhaps her view of the situation was a little different than his. At this point I totally backed off. I had been under the assumption that this mid-to-late twenties woman had actually been a mid-to-late twenties woman. But if someone is laying out this story in front of you, you have to question their sanity (or at least their driver's license).
I walked away. Said "oh well." And focused on a good time. But this was before John got drunker, meaner, and more annoying. Before he said some things to his "girlfriend" that you usually can't take back. Before he sent her crying into a neighborhood culdasac. And before, for COMPLETELY selfish reasons, I said "giddy-up, the game is back on."
It didn't go anywhere. Not after about a week. But the week was a pretty good one.
To be continued...
