Thursday, December 20, 2012

Untold Stories of Girls Night Out - The Series: Concequences

Before I begin, I would like to make an announcement.  I'll be writing a series called “Untold Stories of Girls Night Out.”  In these stories you'll get to experience, or even re-live, nights out with my friends.  Names will be changed for confidentiality, but the stories are real.  Enjoy!
There’s nothing better than a girl’s night out.  Spending time with your best girlfriends, drinking cocktails, and dancing the night away is essential to blowing off steam from the work week.  There are a few things that inevitably happen on a GNO.   Some stories are open to being retold; others, sworn to secrecy.  Usually girls out on a GNO fall into one of the following categories: drunky, dancey, cryie, laughy, texty, manhunty, or feisty.  I turn into manhunty. 

Apparently, my favorite thing to do on a GNO is give out my number to any man who has a pulse.  In a drunken moment of optimism, I give my digits to potential suitors only to wake up the next morning with multiple texts, missed phone calls, and the realization that I am the one to blame for weeks of unwanted communication.

What was that you asked?  Why don’t I just give out a fake phone number?  I’ve asked myself the same question!  I think that deep down I’m a hopeless romantic.  Yes, I’m in a dive bar and, yes, the guy I’m talking to has a beard that can compete with that of Santa Claus, but he could be the one!  Besides, think of all the time and energy I’d save during Christmas:  No more taking my children to the mall to get pictures with Santa—Daddy’s already got a beard!  All he needs is a red suit!  I’m killing two birds with one stone here, people!  You think I would learn from my mistakes and come to the conclusion that giving out my number will have consequences.  Well, ladies and gentleman, I give you, The Consequence.

A few of my girlfriends and I went out this past weekend.  We started off at our usual spot.  After a couple of cocktails, I began talking to a handsome fellow and before I knew it, conversation turned from typical to flirtatious.  He was smart, tall, had a contagious laugh.  I was intrigued and hopeful.  But then he threw a curve ball.  My wing women asked if he was Catholic.  His response was a firm, “Hell no!”  Clearly, he was traumatized by this question.  I started to lose interest quickly.  I wanted to continue with my GNO and enjoy the rest of the evening.  Hell boy had a different idea in mind.  After learning that I was Catholic, he decided that this was his opportunity to make me realize what a complete sham the Catholic faith was and that I had been brainwashed.  He attempted to quiz me on the Church’s catechism and to explain why the Pope was a “joke.”  Finally, he realized I was not amused and he turned to compliments in the hope that they would save the conversation.  They didn’t. 

I knew being rude wouldn’t help the situation, even if he was insulting my religion.  I felt as though I was representing Catholics everywhere and I didn’t want to give this guy any more “proof that all Catholics are idiots.”  Just when I thought he’d given up, he asked for my phone number.  I couldn’t think of a good response to let him down easy so I panicked and gave him a fake number.  Then he threw another curve ball and called my faux number and asked me to repeat his number to him.  In shock, I acted as if he spilled his drink on me and excused myself. This guy wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so I took action, made an escape, and went home.  I was in the clear… or so I thought. 

Monday evening I received a text message from a number I didn’t recognize.  It said, “I hate Jesus. ;-D . It was fun hanging out with you the other night…weird thing is we’ve met before.  I already had your number in my phone.  I’m totally perplexed as to why you gave me the wrong number.  I was hoping you’d shed light on the situation.”

Oh, the horror!  I’m fairly certain I had a mini heart attack when I read that.  How is it even possible?! I have no recollection of meeting Hell boy before.  Out of guilt, I ended up coming clean and apologizing about the faux number.  I explained to him that I wasn’t interested and after he spent the better part of an hour insulting me, I thought we probably would not make a good match.  My honesty only made things worse.  I was then assaulted with the longest text message ever received on the planet.  I can’t repeat what he wrote, but suffice to say I could barely read through all the unkind words.  Did I mention he was thirty-five?  I wonder why he's still single.

There are lessons to be learned here.  Most are self-explanatory but if I can give a few pieces of advice they would be this: don’t talk religion in a bar, never give out your number under the influence, and never give a fake number—it'll probably come back to bite you in the…well, you know.  As always, happy dating.