Saturday Night Part 1 of 3: Missy

Am I a predator?

No, but I can certainly learn something from them. A predator tends to focus on the weakness of its prey and exploit that to its advantage. I’m kinda guilty of that.

Shortly after the whole Daniela debacle I convened with the steering committee at a local upper west side haunt. We were mostly there to talk about girls and develop a better strategy for me. We wanted to dissect the Daniela experience and try to really find out why I couldn’t sleep with her and then cut her from my portfolio. Some task that was so seemingly simple was alas not possible for me to accomplish.

Bailey: “You know what I think? I seriously think you should consider just dropping this chick. She is way into you and clearly crazy, sleeping with her would just complicate matters and make it so that you can never get rid of her. ”

This guy: “Yah, I think your right. I’m just not feeling her right now. She is too much too soon. She is so ready to be a girlfriend that it just pushes me away. “

Jay: “No, listen, listen…” he says pointing his law finger at me. “you need to bag her and then get rid of her. You’ve invested way too much time to just walk away without getting ass. Never pass on ass.”

This guy: “Yah but you don’t understand man, she is too much. I’m not excited when I’m around her, I just kinda find myself trying too hard to like her and it’s not natural anymore. And when I do hang with her and I overdose on her it’s impossible to get rid of her. I don’t want to hang with her and have to deal with that shit again.”

Jay: “Look man, you got this shit in the bag. I’m saying, give her one last date. Don’t be hasty. “

Bailey: “Negative, don’t do it, you might compromise the integrity of your mission.”

With that we ordered our first round of beers. A tall thin bartender with long brown hair and a smile with just the right amount of stank approached us and took our order. We were captivated but unmoved by her as she was a bartender and we all know that they belong to a group known as the untouchables. When I met Angelika she was a bartender, and yes I landed the bartender, it was a victory for all of mankind, but as far as I knew, it was a fluke occurrence.

Jay: “Ok, so why do you think that you can’t just get in there and get out?”

This guy: “She’s catching feelings man, I’m not trying to make this girl crazy, I don’t need that kind of drama right now.”

Jay: “Ok, look, just agree to go on one more date with her, and we’ll be cool.”

This guy: “Agreed.”

Jay: “Look, what went wrong with this girl is that you took a genuine interest in her. You tried to get to know her. Try cutting that shit out next time. “

This guy: “Don’t know how Jay. That’s just what I do.”

My God!!! I think we just had a break through. Did I just figure out what my “Game” is? I always thought I was this pathetic game less mofo, but it was starting to become clear to me that my so called “game” is to get to know some one really well and cater to their likes. No wonder I am always ending up in these really long term relationships. I get to know someone really well before I sleep with them and suddenly she is a girlfriend, if I don’t like what I’m hearing as I get to know them, they get cut and I never get to sleep with them. I was programmed for long term relationships. This was all so terribly frightening.

I have managed to become the only dude in this effing planet that really does need to know someone that is both beautiful on the outside and on this inside. That is so frickin gay it hurts. Any normal guy can stop at exterior beauty. Me? I need to go a step further and interview them for the big night.

“Another beer please?” I said disgusted with myself.

The bartender returned with another brew and smiled. I, on the other hand, scowled back, but that’s because I was coming to terms with my new huge flaw.

Bartender: “What’s your problem?”

Jay: “He just realized he was gay.”

This guy: “Oh shut up. “

Bailey: “No see, our boy here just found out that he should be buying panties instead of boxers.”

This guy: “Oh what the fuck ever. What’s your name?” I asked the bartender.

Bartender: “Missy.”

This guy: “Don’t listen to a word they say Missy. Just coming to terms with a character flaw, that’s all.

Missy: “What flaw?”

This guy: “That I am too much of a nice guy.”

Jay: “This guy thinks that he needs to really get to know a girl before he sleeps with her.”

Missy looks over at me and with her softest sexiest voice says: “Your gay.”

This guy: “Thanks for that. Preeshiate it.”

She made me laugh. In fact we were all laughing at what just happened. I got punked by the bartender. Suddenly the conversation shifted. It seemed like all we could talk about now was the sexy Missy. We regrouped and reworked our strategy. We decided that we would talk with her and flirt with her and be stupid with her and see if it goes anywhere. We had nothing to lose and we knew we could have a laugh regardless. A pretty bartender with a personality and a few brews and suddenly we are cooking with gas.

As the night progressed we noticed that she began to hang out in our general vicinity. We were pretty much joking with her the whole night and she had us in stitches. This bitch was funny.

How incredibly appealing it is when you meet a hottie with a sense of humor. I mean even if none of us got the drop on Missy, we were all looking forward to having a new favorite bartender. She would make a regular out of us in no time. I was sure of it.

Booze unlocks me. I had plenty of it and was pretty much saying what was on my mind at this point. The rest of the guys were at the same level. It was at this point that we met the manager, an even cooler motherfucker that knew how to treat his guests. He went by the name 70Mil. Not sure what that means, but we don’t care.

70Mil was like a cruise director. He would jump in and out of conversations, get you to buy booze, buy you shots if you were moving too slow, and make you laugh with whatever came to his mind. As we all got drunk together the conversations got more and more interesting.

70Mil: “Which one of you likes Missy?”

The steering committee unanimously decided it was me and pointed their accusatory fingers at me.

70Mil: “Be careful she used to be fat.”

This guy: “Whatever, your stupid.”

70Mil: “I swear to god.” He says then he turns in Missy’s direction who at the time was serving another guest. “Missy how much weight did you lose again?”

Missy: “80 Pounds” She says nonchalantly as she finishes serving her customer.

Jay: “No fucken way. There is no way she lost that much weight.”

70Mil: “I swear to god, she showed me a picture the other day. I wouldn’t have hired her here if she came looking like that. I was shocked.”

Bailey: “There is no way.”

70Mil: “Ok, believe what you want.”

Drunk as I was, I decided to believe it. So back to the initial question that sits at the top of the post waiting to be explained. Am I a predator? No, but I did see an opportunity to exploit her weakness.

Fat chicks historically have been known for having low self esteems and great personalities. Well Missy certainly had the great personality, let’s see if she still had the low self esteem.

I suddenly began to feel ballsy and almost cocky. My self esteem and confidence levels shot through the roof and suddenly I was able to say things that I am normally too shy to say.

“So Missy, you really used to be fat huh?”

“Yes.”

“So do you still have fat girl mentality? Like do you have a low self esteem?”

Wow, did I say that? Not cool. I’m sorry dear reader. Please note that I really am a lot more sensitive and way smoother than that, but the booze had destroyed my ability to sugar coat things.

“If anything my self esteem is a little lower now that I lost all the weight because I’m more conscious of it.”

Wow, she laid those cards on the table pretty quick. I seized the moment and decided to continue my barrage of questions.

“Do you have a man?”

“Yes.”

“What does he do?”

“He is a Dj.”

“What does he spin?”

“Reggaeton.”

“Does he realize that is the shittiest music in the world?”

Being a DJ myself, I was able to make such a judgment. I have a vast collection of all types of music with the exception of Reggaeton. I leave that for Kofa.

Jay: “Does your man spin CD’s or Vinyl?

Missy: “CD’s”

Jay: “This nigga aint a DJ, he pushes play.”

Jay gets a little defensive when it comes to CD Dj’s. Kofa and I belong to the dwindling population of Vinyl mixers and we have schooled Jay in the nuances that make Vinyl a million times better than CD’s. For one Vinyl is Analog so you get a warmer sound. Did you know that the first time you play a vinyl records it is better than CD quality? True story. Plus there is the look and feel of mixing vinyl that really makes it an art form. Technology is making serious advances though and soon CD will win the DJ war, but Like a Jedi, I stand true to my love for vinyl.

Missy: “So what do you guys do?”

Jay: “I’m a lawyer for a small firm in midtown.”

Bailey: “I’m a student.”

This guy: “I’m a director for a midsized, highly capitalized start up.”

Sorry for being vague, but If I give any more details than that I risk being exposed to the very women I am dating. I’d rather play it safe.

Missy: “You’re all so full of shit.”

This guy: “I swear that’s what we do, why would we lie?”

Missy: “You’re all too young to be lawyers and directors; you probably just go to school with Bailey.”

Jay: “Ok, fuck you. Would I be wearing this suit if I was a college student? No, this suit probably cost more than Bailey’s tuition.”

This guy: “Why would I make that up? No really, I can think of cooler things to be. That’s what I do.”

Missy: “Prove it.”

This guy: “Jay do you have my card?”

Jay makes a habit of carrying my card. Can anyone ask for a better wingman? There have been times that we would talk to girls and I would go home without a number, only to get an email from them because Jay gave her my card when I went to the bathroom. Wingmen across the nation need to learn from this guy.

Jay: “Nah man, I’m out of cards.”

Missy: “How convenient.”

Then Bailey surprises me with an incredibly good idea. He pulls me aside and says:

“Tell her that if you can prove it to her she has to go out for drinks with you.”

“Great fuckin idea. They taught you that in the military?”

“Just do it.”

I turn back to Missy who was distracted by Jay and I proceed with the plan.

This guy: “Ok, if I can prove it beyond the shadow of a doubt, you have to go out for drinks with me.”

Missy: “Fine, go home and print up some business cards. It’s going to be hard to prove it to me.”

This guy: “Jesus your jaded.”

Missy: “Men are pigs.”

With that we wrapped up our tab and headed home. The following night’s plans were already being worked on. We had planned to hit this bar in midtown that Jay was having a function at, but we decided to make a quick stop at the Missy’s bar to show proof.

The next morning I woke up ready for the days events. Bailey had worked through the night developing “Operation Proof.” The idea was to get in there, show proof, then walk out.

Bailey: “Listen, this is the plan. At approximately 1100 hours we will penetrate Missy’s base camp and carry out a lightning strike operation. Within the span of a few minutes you are to walk up to the bar, show proof, ask for a date, then walk out. It must be done swiftly and precisely.”

This guy: “I can’t just walk in, leave my card and walk out. That’s too cold and harsh. Plus I would feel gayish doing that. How about we stop in for a beer, just one, then we bounce?”

Bailey: “Ok. That works too.”

That night we show up at the bar and just like we planned I showed her proof.

Missy: “Kinko’s did a good job this time.”

This guy: “That, my friend, is a real card.”

Missy: “Whatever, it’s so easy to make up business cards.”

This guy: “I’m not trying to put that much work into having drinks with you, if you want out of your deal, go ahead but I lived up to my end of the bargain.”

Missy: “So what exactly do you want to do on this plutonic date?” She said gesturing quotes over the word plutonic.

The word Plutonic doesn’t scare me. That’s just part of the disclaimer she has to use considering that she has a man. Doesn’t faze me one bit.

This guy: “Don’t worry, you just got to pick a time, I will take care of everything else. Now we have to head down town for this thing we have, but we will be back later. You got a few hours to think about a time.”

I winked at her, dropped a 20 on the table, and walked out.

This was the beginning of a long Saturday night. It was now 10PM and we were headed to Jay’s midtown function. The plan was to hang there for a few hours then make our way back to Missy’s bar to close out the night.

Stay tuned for the next post where we use Jay’s event to train Bailey in the art of picking up women. Somewhere between a beautiful opus and a monkey playing an Xylophone lies Bailey, our resident social retard. Then later we return to Missy’s place where she surprises us all. Especially me…