They Always Mean Well…
But when friends get involved with helping you hit on men, it generally starts to feel like middle school.
I’m getting ahead of myself, so let me backtrack. I closed out Memorial Day weekend with a night at the Astoria Bohemian Beer Garden. I’ve heard about this place since my first summer here, but always assumed it was just an outdoor patio hyped up. Nope, somehow they manage to hide an entire park stocked full of picnic benches and cheap pitchers on a small side street in Queens.
I met up with a group of friends celebrating a former co-worker in town for a visit. My focus wasn’t much on flirting, due to the fact that during a round of King’s Cup (because people bring all kinds of cards & board games to this bar. LOVE IT!) one of our players drew ‘I Never’ and announced proudly that he had never slept with a man. Every other person at the table took a drink, so as you can see, the odds were against me.
That is, until I noticed a table full of guys behind me. I was feeling pretty confident, wearing a new sundress that gave me the ample décolletage of an old-fashioned beer wench and new earrings that I treated myself to after a weekend of nothing but hard work. I casually locked eyes a few times with one of them, holding his gaze just long enough to be deliberate before looking away. He didn’t take the bait, so I went back to trying not to be the loser at thumb master during every game we played.
Then, a new guy joined the table behind us, and I was immediately struck by how much he resembled my high school boyfriend- same tall, lanky build, and sheepish, I don’t-realize-how-cute-I-am smile. I took the initiative and mentioned that I liked his shirt, a black and white, sort of paisley button up with maroon accents (I can’t describe it any better, but it was NOT as ugly as that sounds!). He laughed and thanked me, swearing that it was the only thing like it that he owned. I sighed, confident that he at least wouldn’t be hitting on the guy sitting to my right.
I kept one ear on the conversation behind me, waiting for a chance to join in. It turns out he was out celebrating his birthday, and is a huge LOST fan. I managed to toss a “Happy Birthday” across the aisle, but my perfect opening refused to materialize. When I heard that he was heading inside to purchase the next pitcher I seized the moment and decided to go for a bold gesture.
I followed inside on the pretense of getting a drink, placed myself beside him at the bar and offered to buy him a birthday shot. While the bartender poured him Jameson and me a much more manageable Kamikaze, we chatted about the recent season finale. I had just that afternoon been having a conversation about how strange it would be to date someone with the same name as your father, so wouldn’t you know it his turned out to be Dad’s Name. Confident that I had clearly thrown open the window for him to make a move if interested, I headed back to my table while he waited for his pitcher to finish pouring.
(To be continued…)