I walk up to to him. "So, I made this bet that I would get your number..."
"Just a sec"
I watched in part amusement as he scrambled for a pen and wrote his name and number on the back of a coaster. He had that jackpot combination of lush lips and mischievous eyes – the ones I usually go for. Damn.
"So, I'll call you tomorrow?"
"Was that part of the bet?"
I smile and walk away.
I really should have left it there. I would not have called him anyway. It could have been one of many 'How I met..." stories I've started to collect. But I didn't.
---
I was in this bar, feeling completely fabulous and out with my gay friends and plenty of free drinks. I was wearing the shortest black dress I owned, thinking it was a safe bet going to a gay party. Since we spent a lot of time planted firmly in front of the bar, I started to notice the people around me. J looked up the very moment I glanced at him and our eyes lock. I pointed him out to my friends. "Very cute! Go for it, girl!" R says. "Whoa there," I laugh. He did have really nice eyes.
---
Half an hour later I head back in to get more drinks. I see him in a corner talking to someone. I walk over and before I say anything he pulls me aside. "So do you come here often?" I ask. He laughs at the irony of my question. "So, tell me more," he implores, half pinning me against the wall. The conversation was a brief, concise exchange of words:
What do you do? Photographer, I say. Why are u here? Gay friends, free drinks, why not? So about that bet, it was just a bet? Maybe, maybe not. How old are you? I'm old enough to get into this bar. Your turn, he says.
How old are you? He grins. Single? Yes. Gay? No. What do you like doing? Sex. I like having sex. Lots of it. [Fuck. He plays the pocket aces I was holding on for later. I was hard to refrain from expressing my surprise but I manage, barely] That's cool.. sex is good, I nod, deciding what to do next but he makes that decision for me, heading off to get us more drinks.
I glance over at my friends, who seemed to be having a good enough time without me. R makes a seemingly vague gesture at me, I know he means it's time for me to hook in. I wink back at R. When did all this become a game? When did I decide that I was such a cynic? J came across as pretty cynical himself. I have to be on my toes for this one, I remember thinking. The G&Ts were kicking in so I switch to cocky and funny mode, the one that comes easiest. Put yourself down a little, it lowers defenses. Put the other person down a little, it makes them work harder. J comes back with another G&T for me, and we flirt for another half hour. I think he was impatient to leave. With me. So he sorts of tows me along while we talk, and soon we were out on the street. We walk for about a block and stop in front of a church.
"So are you going to give me your number?" His face was right in front of mine. He was even better looking up close. "I'm supposed to call you tomorrow," I replied. He slides his left hand down the small of my back and pulls me to him. He looked incredibly gorgeous under the street lights. And then I took a deep breath.. it was now or never. I lean in for a kiss. He moves away. I pull back a little, raising one eyebrow. "OK," I grin, "That wasn't exactly part of the plan." I search for something to say but the G&Ts were really kicking in. It was hard to think on my feet. This up close. He stares at me for a moment. "Are you really going to call me tomorrow, or would you wake up and conveniently forget you had my number?" "I said I would," I whisper back. "Promise me you will, and I will kiss you."
Sigh. If there is one thing I dislike more than being told what to do, it's being given a kind of ultimatum. I pull away. The moment was gone. "I'll call you tomorrow." I blow him a kiss and walk off, back to my friends who were just about to leave the bar. It was late. I was tired.
"So what happened with J there?" R asks when I return. I give him a brief rundown. "Straight men. Hopeless. Honey, you got game. He just doesn't know the rules." He rolls his eyes. "I enjoyed the flirting so much more! I should have left it at that." I sigh.
I really should have left it at the bar.
What are the rules anyway? Who makes these rules? I have no idea. People write books about these things. People trawl forums, dedicate hours writing and reading field reports on this subject. Some do it as a profession. But I really have no idea.
On the way back, I felt a little bad walking off. I really did. This is why I would never call myself a PUA; I had a conscience. And many good friends who don't do too well with women. So I sent him a text: I am apparently going to call you tomorrow. When is your day off? He replies, at 2AM: So why didn't you take me home again?
I gave the most honest answer I could think of: Taking you home just because I think you're cute would be completely shallow of me.
It sounds kind of lame. I know. Problem was, I wasn't new to this whole pick up thing. I have no problems with my approach. I have, over time, perfected my opening. My cold reading has never failed me and I'm good at improvisation. My only flaw is closing. I can never close. I have never closed.
But just because I can't doesn't make these encounters any less fun, right?
