:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::
Thoughts, observations, and introspections from an
:: Friday, August 03, 2007 ::
Labels: dating, Dewey's, I'm an idiot
Anyway, the game starts and since it's my favorite sports team playing my most reviled sports team, featuring one of the most polarizing players in recent history chasing down what's regarded as the most hallowed of all sports records, I'm somewhat into this. She notices my interest and asks if I'm a baseball fan (well, duh). We start talking and I find out she's from Philly and love the Eagles, among other things. As it gets later, the bar starts to fill up and she has to make drinks; which is fine with me since the game is close and time pretty much stops every time Barry Bonds is up to bat. In the middle of all that, AC/DC's "For the About to Rock" starts playing and I unconsciously start to bob my head to it. She notices and says, "I'm glad somebody appreciates my music." I simply smile and ask, "how can anyone not like AC/DC?" I think it was then when I finally noticed that, hey, she really is kinda cute. (We've already established that I'm slow with women. And my Dodgers were on TV and I rarely get to see them out here. What do you want from me?) It goes on like this the entire night, we chat here and there when she isn't serving drinks or if there's a commercial break.
It gets to the ninth inning, I've finished my wings and my third beer, and we're still down by three. Deciding I need something a little stronger I order a Gentleman Jack on the rocks (it's not Maker's Mark but still a very good whiskey). We lose the game. Somewhat dejected, I finish the rest of my Jack and ask for the bill. I look it over and see that she forgot to charge me for the whiskey. Maybe it's because I'm a waiter but I point out the error in case she might get into trouble (not likely but the owner has a reputation for parsimony). She briefly has that "oops" look on her face, but then looks up at me says, "that one's on me."
Oh. Cool?
The only time a bartender's ever bought me a drink is if it's a buddy at one of my hangouts and the bartenders are guys. The only time a female bartender tried to buy me a drink was three years ago and I decline because I was about to leave (a friend gave me shit for not letting a girl buy me a drink, and told me "Dan-E, sometimes, you just need to take one for the team.” I blogged about this, now that I think about it. Sorry, I'm rambling.)
So my mind is racing. Did she really forget? Was she flirting with me this whole time? Was she flirting with me because she might like me or was she just working me for a bigger tip? Should I ask her out? If I do, how do I do it without coming off like one of those creepy assholes who probably hit on her nightly? What would I even say? (I'm guessing the only guys who actually get numbers from female bartenders are either extraordinarily good looking - which I'm not - or are filthy rich and leave huge tips - which I don't. I mean, I tip well but not quite like that.)
I just suck it up. I'm tired of second guessing myself, I'm tired of wondering "what if?" I ask for her number, not exactly smoothly (rather clumsily in retrospect, not because I was drunk or tipsy - it takes more than four drinks for me to feel anything - but because as we've established in some of the previous posts, I have no game). Surprisingly, she quickly writes it down on the back of the receipt. Yep, it's a Philly number.
This wasn't like some breakthrough or anything. I was happy, but I wasn't jumping for joy or pumping my fist or anything. I'm not getting my hopes up or anything. It's one thing to get a number but I still have to see if anything come from this. I haven't been on a date since the breakup so if all I get is a nice conversation and friendly company out of this, I'll be stoked. It feels like ages since I've done this but it's a start, I guess.
:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 8:05 PM [+] ::
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