Me, My Cringe and the Laydees*… Part One

Howdy doody!

So I only did two posts last week.

The reason being I thought it would be nice to go for something more light-hearted and have been doing up a post about my first proper relationship. Trying to get the right tone, make sure it’s clear the jibes are aimed at my younger self and manage to not use names but still make it feel personal. Have a few thousand words done and feel it’s still going so instead I’m gonna take a break from that and tell you the first in a 3 part series that I call Me and the Laydees.

These tales plucked from the shuddering depths are sure to keep the staunchest spirit up all night… And might help sooth a girls ego if she thought her advances were rebuked when it’s probably just that she was not literal enough. Seriously, someone could be direct as possible (and they have) and I’d still assume it’s banter.

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So, a bit about me. I am terrible at hints, signs, anything at all that would be seen as flirting soars over my head. Astrologists still debate about the signs my misreadings have ascended into space. Not only am I not a player of the game, but I’ve never been sure what the game was. Truth is, I’m 30 years old and have never asked someone out in my life. Thank God for women with cajones or I’d probably have turned full wizard by now.

Hmm, let’s get moving.

Oh, allow me one more tangent here. So I’m about to delve into 1 (of 3) stories of girls I ran into but nothing happened because the signs only reached me once they had spread their message to the stars and back. These will not be told chronologically but in order of escalation. So we’ll be starting off with the one that happened most recently… A whopping 11 years ago.

Hey, don’t judge me, I’ve been in a committed relationship for a hella long time!

The Girl in the Bar

I am 19 years old and drinking with friends. It’s (at the time) a rather dank place called Costello’s. Sticky floors, same songs playing for years and not to mention over-crowded, but this is the place that the art student girls go to, so this is the particular haunt for my friends and mine. Cringing yet?

So I go to the bar to have a drink, make my order and wait. As I do, a girl comes beside me and says hi. Surprised, (I am not the type people say “Hi” to unless they assume I’m someone else) I greet her back and we start talking. It’s not a long chat, maybe 5 minutes at a stretch. During that time, we’re having a laugh and the remainder of the exchange goes like such.

“Well, cheers for the chat,” I say while nodding back toward my friends in the corner.

“Oh hey,” she says, while parting her hair behind one ear, “would you like a drink?”. She smiles. I think she’s cute, so I smile back. (Makes it sound like I only smiled because of her looks. I’d have smiled back anyways, scuse you!)

Drink in hand, I give it a rattle and say “Oh, no thanks! I just got one!”

I proceed to walk away and don’t run into her again.   

I distinctly remember laughing, thinking it was silly of her to joke about getting me a drink when SHE JUST SAW ME GET ONE.

The next day… As the sign returns from its forlorn journey across all space and time.

“Ah, fuck.”

Le Cringe, and Le Fin

*No laydees were hurt in the making of this post. But I have endured many a sleepless night over this tale of terror

One thought on “Me, My Cringe and the Laydees*… Part One

  1. Pingback: Sadsack Saturdays*

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