A Funny Story
One thing you need to understand about me before you read this post is that I am a terrible flirt. I'm not terrible at flirting, I'm actually half decent. I'm naturally flirtatious toward men and women that I meet; I somehow "always toe the line between friendly and flirty", my friend tells me.
That being said, I am also terrible at picking up on when someone (guys and gals) are hitting on me and this time, I really do mean "terrible" in the negative sense.
The last place one ever expects to meet a guy is at TGI Friday's in Plymouth, MA on a Thursday night when you're meeting one of your best girlfriends. Jasmine and her live-in boyfriend of five years have recently hit a rough patch and we decided to meet up for drinks so she could vent about her problems to me.
When we walked in there were a group of people on the other side of the bar, watching and yelling at the hockey game. There were two men between the ages of twenty-five and thirty sitting together on the far left, minding their own business and we paid them no attention. After about an hour and a full pint later, the two men slid over next to us -- claiming that the bartender had spilled something near where they had been sitting.
You probably can see where this story is headed. I, however, did not see it coming. Being the naive and oblivious girl that I am, I had no idea that this guy would have alternative intentions than to escape a spill.
It was awkward when the first man spoke to me, and I responded with friendly conversation; he made a joke and I politely laughed. He pointed out that my phone sitting on the bar is tragically shattered and I responded with the honest answer that I really could care less as long as the phone functions. Then I began to wonder how long he was going to keep talking and how long I will have to endure the numbing small talk and if I can continue to force my polite laughter for an extended period.
The poor kid was sweet, don't get me wrong. Medium height, smaller build, short-ish brown hair, glasses, hazel eyes. I don't remember his name, to be entirely honest. His tall, bald coworker was friendly and more normal; he frequently rolled his eyes and laughed, and it seemed like he was just as uncomfortable as I was at the other guy's jokes. Apparently the two were engineers from Worcester, staying at the hotel next door.
Long story short, the guy was nice and had a sense of humor, but he made strange comments like encouraging me to slap him when he made bold statements about his football beliefs he knew I would disagree with, and slipped in compliments like afterthoughts to his original thought. I think my biggest problem with me was that he kept saying little things that caught me off guard.
I lasted about an hour, with the guy talking my ear off the entire time. It was almost one o'clock in the morning and Jasmine and I decided that it was time to head out. We paid our tab and attempted to say our goodbyes; unfortunately my purse strap had gotten caught on the bar stool so our attempt at a quick exit failed miserably. I told them that it was nice to meet them and the bespectacled, awkward man who had been flirting all night finally plucked up the courage to ask me what I was doing later or if I had plans later (something like that).
Friday's was closing, it was one in the morning, I was tired from a long day at work, I had a forty minute drive home and I was not interested in sleeping with this man at all. I'm not the one night stand type of girl, even if I had been charmed by this guy.
I, of course, panicked at the question. I didn't know what to say so I said that I was "tired and had a date with my bed". Yes, "bed" was a poor word choice in this situation with the implication of him proposing sex and I realized it immediately; I tried to backpedal desperately.
He responded, "So you're essentially turning me down..Very nicely but still turning me down". At least he laughed. I then told him that his "offer was very sweet and I liked him but thought I should call it a night". "Offer" sounds horrible presumptuous and implicative of him asking me to sleep and I could feel myself blushing. I held his hand for a second, smiled, then Jasmine and I practically ran out the door.
These are the situations I find myself in, with no skill set to get myself out of them. I'm a naturally flirtatious and generally friendly person. However, when a guy hits on me, it happens so rarely that I assume I'm imagining it and then it smacks me in the face.
Although, upon further thought, I'm so oblivious that it may be happening more frequently than I think and I just have no idea.
Happy Friday! xoxo
That being said, I am also terrible at picking up on when someone (guys and gals) are hitting on me and this time, I really do mean "terrible" in the negative sense.
The last place one ever expects to meet a guy is at TGI Friday's in Plymouth, MA on a Thursday night when you're meeting one of your best girlfriends. Jasmine and her live-in boyfriend of five years have recently hit a rough patch and we decided to meet up for drinks so she could vent about her problems to me.
When we walked in there were a group of people on the other side of the bar, watching and yelling at the hockey game. There were two men between the ages of twenty-five and thirty sitting together on the far left, minding their own business and we paid them no attention. After about an hour and a full pint later, the two men slid over next to us -- claiming that the bartender had spilled something near where they had been sitting.
You probably can see where this story is headed. I, however, did not see it coming. Being the naive and oblivious girl that I am, I had no idea that this guy would have alternative intentions than to escape a spill.
It was awkward when the first man spoke to me, and I responded with friendly conversation; he made a joke and I politely laughed. He pointed out that my phone sitting on the bar is tragically shattered and I responded with the honest answer that I really could care less as long as the phone functions. Then I began to wonder how long he was going to keep talking and how long I will have to endure the numbing small talk and if I can continue to force my polite laughter for an extended period.
The poor kid was sweet, don't get me wrong. Medium height, smaller build, short-ish brown hair, glasses, hazel eyes. I don't remember his name, to be entirely honest. His tall, bald coworker was friendly and more normal; he frequently rolled his eyes and laughed, and it seemed like he was just as uncomfortable as I was at the other guy's jokes. Apparently the two were engineers from Worcester, staying at the hotel next door.
Long story short, the guy was nice and had a sense of humor, but he made strange comments like encouraging me to slap him when he made bold statements about his football beliefs he knew I would disagree with, and slipped in compliments like afterthoughts to his original thought. I think my biggest problem with me was that he kept saying little things that caught me off guard.
I lasted about an hour, with the guy talking my ear off the entire time. It was almost one o'clock in the morning and Jasmine and I decided that it was time to head out. We paid our tab and attempted to say our goodbyes; unfortunately my purse strap had gotten caught on the bar stool so our attempt at a quick exit failed miserably. I told them that it was nice to meet them and the bespectacled, awkward man who had been flirting all night finally plucked up the courage to ask me what I was doing later or if I had plans later (something like that).
Friday's was closing, it was one in the morning, I was tired from a long day at work, I had a forty minute drive home and I was not interested in sleeping with this man at all. I'm not the one night stand type of girl, even if I had been charmed by this guy.
I, of course, panicked at the question. I didn't know what to say so I said that I was "tired and had a date with my bed". Yes, "bed" was a poor word choice in this situation with the implication of him proposing sex and I realized it immediately; I tried to backpedal desperately.
He responded, "So you're essentially turning me down..Very nicely but still turning me down". At least he laughed. I then told him that his "offer was very sweet and I liked him but thought I should call it a night". "Offer" sounds horrible presumptuous and implicative of him asking me to sleep and I could feel myself blushing. I held his hand for a second, smiled, then Jasmine and I practically ran out the door.
These are the situations I find myself in, with no skill set to get myself out of them. I'm a naturally flirtatious and generally friendly person. However, when a guy hits on me, it happens so rarely that I assume I'm imagining it and then it smacks me in the face.
Although, upon further thought, I'm so oblivious that it may be happening more frequently than I think and I just have no idea.
Happy Friday! xoxo
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