Saturday Night Part 3: Back to Missy's Place

Saturday night, almost 2AM, and the three of us were headed back to Missy’s bar. Bailey just got done learning some good lessons on how to talk to girls and we finally all came into agreement that Jay’s utilitarian approach to meeting women was indeed the best method to follow. We had one last promise to fulfill and that was to visit Missy at the end of the night.

As we continued our drinking, I began to unlock. Again my amazing powers of speaking without thinking flourished and I became the invincible drunken guy.

Jay, Bailey and I were spitting off one liners and exchanging quips with Missy as she kept (irresponsibly I might add) serving us liquor. The DJ was playing loudly and the music was horrible. It sounded like it was being amplified by a megaphone. My ears were bitter with me, but I ignored their pleas for asylum. I was after all in the company of Missy and well, that just took precedence.

This guy: “Yo this sound system blows it. It sounds like shit in here.”

Bailey: “Yeah, I agree, it sounds like ass.”

Bailey used to DJ with me in our formative years so he knew exactly how I felt about the soundsystem.

At that moment Missy walked back to our area.

Jay: “Yah man, it sounds horrible. Missy, you need to tell 70Mil to get new speakers in here, it sounds like shit.”

Bailey: “Plus the music isn’t helping any either.”

This guy: “Yeah, so tell 70Mil to change the Dj out as well.”

Missy: “You guys don’t like hip hop?”

This guy: “Hip hop is alright, but the Dj sucks. He can barely transition out of songs and this like the 18th time I hear Gold Digger [Kanye West – Late Registration – Def Jam Records]”

Jay: “What kind of music do you like?”

Missy: “I like Reggaeton.”

What? How the hell does this waspy white girl like Reggaeton?

This guy: “What do you know about Reggaeton? “

Missy: “Well my boyfriend is a Dj, that’s what he plays, what do you mean what do I know about it? Its good.”

“Check PLEASE!” I said making the internationally understood hand gesture for asking a server for the check.

There were 2 clear problems here, 1 she just told us she has a man, and 2 she just told us she is into Reggaeton, which is the latin equivalent to hardcore techno. The same exact beats with different lyrics or musical hooks. I think I once fell down a flight of steps and accidentally wrote a Reggaeton jam.

Missy: “What is wrong with reggaeton?”

Jay: “What is not wrong with it?”

Missy: “Well whatever, I like it.”

With that she walked away to tend to some custies (that’s bar speak for customers for all you people out in the mid-west). This was the perfect opportunity to talk with the steering committee about the current state of affairs.

Jay: “I think she’s feelin you man.”

This guy: “Nah dude, you heard her, she has a man.”

Jay: “What’s her man got to do with you?”

Jay likes to beat that into my head. He feels that I close too many girls out of my life the minute they tell me they have a man. Am I wrong for doing that? Do I really want to pick up a chick with a man? No, but Jay insists that it’s not up to me, its up to her if she wants to cheat.

This guy: “Dude, she got a man, plus she is a bartender, we all know that bartenders are trained to talk with custies to one: retain them, and two: get big fat tips.”

Jay: “Listen, first of all, cancel that shit. She is feeling us, you see the way she hangs out here and no where else. She smiles at you, she flirts, dude it’s in the bag.

Bailey: “Yah I think she likes you.”

This guy: “Whatever she’s coming back.”

Missy returns for more drunken abuse.

Missy: “How are you getting home?”

This guy: “I’m driving.”

Missy: “Give me your keys.”

This guy: “Ok.”

I got a warm fuzzy feeling when she took my keys. I like it when a girl worries about me; it makes me feel taken care of. Call me a sucker for like a girl with a nurturing instinct.

Missy disappears again to tend to some bar patrons.

Jay: “See, she took your keys. How you supposed to get home?”

This guy: “Good question.”

Jay: “I don’t drive and Bailey lives here. She is going to have to give you a ride home.”

This guy: “Really? You think she would do that? I’m a stranger.”

Bailey: “I say we see how it plays out.”

Missy returns.

This guy: “So Missy, your man is a DJ huh?”

Missy: “Yes, why?”

This guy: “And he plays reggaeton right?”

Missy: “I thought we went over this.”

This guy: “So what are you going to do when he comes out of the closet?”

Missy: “That’s mean.” She said with a laugh. “That’s not all he does you know. He is a financial advisor or some shit like that for American Express.”

This guy: “Bailey’s mom used to be one of those, right Bailey?”

Bailey: “Affirmative.”

This guy: “See? So much in common.”

Missy: “Your stupid.” Said again with a laugh.

It was one of those “your stupids” that really meant “I cant believe you are making me laugh at the expense of my boyfriend. I love you.” … Ok scratch the I love you part, but when I was drunk it certainly felt like she loved me. That really was just the result of my over inflated, boozed up ego.

This guy: “Ok Missy, well I gave you all night to think of a time that you and I are to go out and have a ‘platonic’ date.

Missy: “Alright, I suppose we can go on a ‘Platonic’ date on Tuesday. I don’t work that day. So what do you got planned?”

This guy: “Don’t worry, it’s a surprise.”

Truth is I had nuthin, so I used the “surprise” crutch. The problem with that is that now you have to come up with some cool surprising shit. I can’t just be like “Surprise! We are going to Barnes and Noble!!!”

Well as the night is ending I get a call from none other than Kofa. Turns out he was in the area and he was about to come through. Always love Kofa’s company, that guy has a way of getting me level headed even when I’m trashed.

We were grabbing our last drinks when suddenly the mood changed. Missy is no longer fun and games, she is giving off this all business vibe. She casually walks up, reaches into her pocket, fishes my keys out and says the following:

“Listen, I’m really sorry, my boyfriend is here. I can’t drive you home.”

Now how should I feel about that? Most people say that I should feel dissed and crushed, but did you catch what she really said? She just got done apologizing for her boyfriend being there AND she acknowledged that her plan was to take me home. That’s fucked up for her boyfriend, great for me.

“Hey, no worries girl, my boy Kofa is coming through, he was going to give me the ride anyway. I didn’t really expect you to give me a ride home.”

Yes I did. But fuckit. Sounded good.

She walked away to close out some tabs and we stayed to finish up our drinks. The move was to have a conversation with my boys that seemed completely self contained and without the need for her input. Bailey somehow got me on the topic of magic tricks and well, anyone who knows me knows I love magic tricks. So we began to discuss the fine art of sleight of hand. Jay has seen all these tricks before so he decided to take a walk around the bar in search for some socialist ass. Oh right, I forgot to mention that there was a ‘young socialist’ convention that was happening at the bar. Thanks Columbia University and your gay ass free thinking hippie movement! All the socialists, by the way, looked like unshowered white lesbians with dreadlocks. Jay’s favorite kind. I digress.

While in the middle of showing Bailey one of my finest tricks, Missy comes by and interrupts as if she felt compelled to be part of our now “members only” conversation.

Missy: “What are you doing?”

This guy: “Show her Bailey.”

Bailey goes on to show off his fresh off the press, newly learned magic trick. He nails it. That boy makes me proud.

Missy: “That’s crazy, how’d you do that?”

Bailey: “It’s Maaagic.” He says in his best David Copperfield voice.

What a showman.

Missy: “So do you know which one is my boyfriend?”

Her man was sitting across the bar with another guy, I wasn’t sure which one it was but I took a guess.

This guy: “The one closest to us?”

Missy: “No, the other, that guy is his friend.”

I lean to the side to look past Missy who was standing directly in front of me and I see what he looks like. Probably the most accurate definition of a tool.

This guy: “I got that nigga beat!”

You know how you can tell when Kofa shows up somewhere? I start talking like him. He just arrived.

Missy laughed at my remark and walked back to the register to retrieve our tab. I decided to go to the bathroom and in doing so; I had to pass her man. As I walked passed him I noticed him grilling me super hard. I ignored it, went to the bathroom, peed, and then returned to my seat.

Missy hands me the bill and walks away. The bill was remarkably low because she only charged us for half of the drinks. She really did love us. She returned, I gave her my credit card and she settled us out.

Kofa: “Nigga are you drunk?”

This guy: “No…. YES!!!”

Kofa: “Give me your keys.”

This guy: “Your so sweet sometimes, you know that?”

Kofa: “You stupid.”

Missy returns with my receipt.

Missy: “Don’t forget. Tuesday.”

This guy: “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

We all give her a hug and finally leave the bar. We hop in my car, I pass out, Kofa ends up giving everyone a ride home, picking up his honey, and finally taking me home.

This was the end of a long ass Saturday night and the beginning of the Missy saga. Stay tuned as I pull my very special “return the next day” move and manage to get myself into more trouble. The story of missy, my friends, is not one to be missed. Some very complicated, interesting, and foul things happen that make me rethink this whole dating thing….