Ah women.
Can’t live with 'em, pass the beer nuts.
Not having lived with one for nearly two years now, the lonliness can be a bit much, so there’s the occasional hope that one of the ones without a ring (Mississippi grand total: about a dozen) might have a bit of interest in the Jeek.
Lately, a friend of mine has gotten a few weeks off from the single dad routine because the girls were off with their grandparents. So that means that I’ve got a temporarily available drinking buddy.
So we go out to Buffalo Wild Wings for the second week in a row. Much like the previous week, we’re both drinking, and I’m happily whipping his ass in NTN trivia.
The night passes, and as usual, the place is pretty much packed. Our cute, friendly waitress is actually pretty bad at her job, but as I said at the beginning of the sentence, cute and friendly so I really don’t care. Eventually, she starts sitting at our table when she’s on her way past and gabbing for a minute or two before getting back to work.
At some point I asked her about a date, and she mentions that her boyfriend, the owner, probably wouldn’t like that. Using my awesome suavity, I feed her my standard response: “Naturally he’s not invited. That’d be pretty awkward, don’t you think?”
She gets back up, starts working, and the night continues. Of course, she still stops by every once in a while to sit and chat, even though the place is packed pretty much till close.
The time comes to settle the bill, and she asks if there’s anything else. I say something witty about her phone number and she just laughs and goes to get the bill.
Up until this point is a typical night for me. Decide to give it a shot, go down in flames, pay the bil, and go home.
So, she comes back with the bill and sets it on the table. My friend points out that we needed seperate checks and she says, “Too bad, this is the one with my number on it”, and picks up the bill she’s set down. And, believe it or not, a phone number was written on it!
She comes back with two seperate checks, and then gives me the old one that had the number on it. When my friend asks me why he didn’t get one, she points out that I was the one who asked for it. I jokingly say, “I hope that’s not your bosses number.” She giggles and says that of course it isn’t.
I have to say I was pretty please with myself. I spent $20 on a night where I drank a bunch of beer, kicked ass in trivia, and got a cute girl’s number.
Then, of course, I actually called it.
Here’s a little recreation of actual events. Names have been changed just because it seemed like a good idea. We’ll call our waitress Tina.
[Dials number]
VM: Hi, this is Jenny, blah blah blah, leave a message.
[Hangs up]
Merijeek: Hmm…something tells me I know what’s going on here. But, maybe it was a wrong number or something.
[Dials number]
VM: Hi, this is Jenny, blah blah blah, leave a message.
Merijeek: Hello. This is a message for Tina, but something tells me I got a bum number. Anyways, this is Merijeek calling for Tina. You met me on Thursday night. Give me a call at 555-1212.
[Hangs up]
Merijeek: Ah well, so much for that.
Then I continued working on what I was doing.
About 15 minutes pass.
[Phone rings - “Private Number”]
Merijeek: Joe speaking.
Asshole: Joe? Wrong fucking number.
Merijeek: Huh?
Asshole: You got the wrong fucking number. Tina is living with someone blah blah saw you harassing her for her phone number in the corner blah blah blah.
Merijeek: You done?
Asshole: Uhh…
Merijeek: Thought so.
[Hangs up]
The possibilities being, of course, that either her boyfriend got to the message first (pretty fucking unlikely), or it was her evil little idea of a joke.
Now, was that really necessary? There was no “harassing”. The whole phone number thing was a totally off-hand remark.
I know she’s a waitress and therefore gets hit on a dozen times a day, blah blah blah. But, shit, whatever happened to “No”?
-Joe