I met a friend out for cocktails over the weekend.
As I am standing there, sipping my cocktail and waiting for my friend, I notice one guy sort of hovering. He made a few passes at women around me, obviously circling the room for prospective targets. I felt like prey being stalked.
I was surrounded by groups of people standing together, so there was no one I could easily chat up. I accidentally made eye contact and it was on.
First of all, he was much shorter than me, which is often an issue for a taller girl (I would make an exception for George Clooney.) I can’t say he was all that attractive, but I optimistically thought that it would be a fun conversation while I waited for my friend. I was so wrong!
Of course, he started off with the usual questions; name, where do you work, have I been there before, to which I said I hadn’t. He asked if the club downstairs was going to be open later (did I look like I worked there?)
He said that he was a big club guy, so he was hoping it wasn’t a private party. To describe this guy: short, chubby, glasses, mid-40s, looked like your stereotypical accountant, and he is a big time ”clubber”? Then he launched into what clubs he likes and asked me about which ones I like.
I said that I was not all that into clubs anymore, not that I ever really was. I am about ten years past the club scene and he was way past it, in my opinion! He was actually wearing a sport jacket to a club?
Really? Then he spent the next ten minutes telling me all his favorites: which ones have the best house music, which ones attract lots of young “model/actress types” of women (”his scene” supposedly). This was followed by how he was in real estate, but only deals with $15 million plus properties, blah, blah, blah! I wondered if he thought he was impressing me.
I was so not into this dude, not to mention he called me the wrong name at least twice! I realize bars can be loud, so I could give him a pass if my name were Jan and he called me Jen, but this was not the case. Then he kept asking me about my job in advertising, when I had already told him I was in finance.
The best part was how he kept checking his phone, supposedly waiting to hear from some big client he was taking out, all while surveying the room, undoubtedly for a model-type to talk to! Honestly, I could not wait for my friend to arrive!
I realized I was the person he was just passing time with until some 20-year-old acknowledged his existence, but if he couldn’t at least fake interest (I was), then he should have had the balls to stand alone at the bar until he found someone he actually wanted to talk to.
I finally made a bathroom escape, hoping to lose him in the process. When I came back, he was chatting up some other poor soul who looked in just as much pain as Ihad!
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