I am teaching one of my girlfriends how to date. Kerri is perpetually in a relationship and has never learned the art of being single. Because, I am a dutiful friend, I have agreed to help. I am the best wingperson ever. Also, I enjoy getting all prettied up to drink in bars while wearing adorable shoes and batting my long eyelashes.
We started her lessons with the basics. I taught her about proper bar seat selection. We practiced looking demurely at each other from across the room. We crossing and uncrossing our legs seductively. We discussed the finer points of long term vs. short term dating. We even settled on an appropriate waiting period for sex.
We moved on to pick up lines. I prefer, "Can I interest you in some sexual positions without emotional investment?" Kerri felt that this was a little to forward for her taste. She is more of an, "Excuse me, but have we met before?" kind of girl. I can live with that. A girl needs to have her own dating style. "Find your voice," I encouraged her.
When I felt that Kerri had mastered the essentials of seduction and dating, we went live. We went to a lovely little venue and secured corner real estate at the bar. We examined the room for men with potential. We locked our gaze on a group of men without wedding rings and as we were planning our approach, we were intercepted by two men drinking domestic light beer. At first, I was disappointed, but then I thought that maybe this would be good practice for Kerri.
I confess that I don't remember either of their names. It has less to do with vodka tonics and more to do with the fact that I was bored to tears. The man that was trying to impress Kerri talked about his ex-girlfriend and how after they broke up he had to learn how to patch up sheet rock. Sheet rock is not actually the most stimulating conversation topic, especially when it has to do with patching up holes punched in anger. It seems like it might be, I know, but really, it's just a big red flag. After hearing all about the ex-girlfriend, I turned to him and slurred, "You know, I like you, I really do. You're very cute, you have great hair and you really are special. I'm just not sure that you're right for this competition."
They walked away, looking confused. Kerri sat there for a second, crossed and uncrossed her legs and said, "You sound just like Paula Abdul."
I'm just happy that she could understand my slurred speech.