The 60-second Relationship
When my current boss originally offered me this job, he said the one thing that swayed him towards hiring me and not the other, possibly stonger candidate was my "clarity of thought." Well, here's a clear thought - when I drink, I become an idiot.
You want proof? On Saturday night, I went clubbing. I had three drinks. A guy asked me for my phone number. And I gave it to him. See? Idiot.
Now I know I'm supposed to give out a fake one. I tried to. But when I opened my mouth to blithely rattle off 10 random numbers, my brain disengaged and I rattled off 10 numbers that sounded vaguely familiar to me. Doh!
I don't think it was entirely the booze talking. It was partially irritation that someone was interrupting my bliss, and persistently so. I'd already told him no, I was not the girl he'd seen the week before at Paco's. I'd already told him I was there with my daughter. I'd already told him I was only interested in the 60 seconds it takes to dance with someone.
And still he asked. Sigh...
My ex-husband once asked me what I was getting him for Christmas. I was asleep at the time, so I promptly told him. Apparently, when I'm asleep, I'm an idiot too.
Really, though, what is wrong with people? Clubs aren't exactly quiet places; do they really think you are there to talk? Maybe some people are, but, dude, I am there to dance.
You wanna cozy up to me and put your hands in my pockets, do so on the dancefloor. If I'm not on the floor, it's cuz I'm taking a little break, resting my legs so I can dip it low and pick it up slow a tad bit longer.
I do not want to meet Mr. Right or his brother Mr. Wrong in a club. I want to dance. And drink. And dance some more.
Clearly, though, I don't communicate well when I'm drunk, as illustrated by the next encounter; with an Asian woman who grabbed me from behind to dance with me while Mr. I've-Got-Your-Number-Now follows me back out onto the dancefloor. I pull her around to the front of me and say in her ear, "I need you to take that guy away."
She responds, "Oh, you do!" Then she puts her purse down in the middle of the dancefloor, and I think to myself, wow she's is gonna get down to some serious business. Then she grabs me and pulls me up against her and starts dancing with her hands in my pockets! How is that getting rid of the guy???? He took out his phone at that very moment and dialled my number!
He's called me twice now. I haven't answered either time. I programmed him as That Guy. I couldn't come up with anything better than that.
Apparently, I'm kinda stupid when I'm sober too.
posted by wood_song at 6:26 PM
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