Alright, was in the bar late last night chilling with a buddy, he went to the bathroom and the girl who was sitting at the table next to me (2 girls both FINE, 1 guy) called me over.
Just to shorthand, T = hottie, T2 = other hottie, G = other guy at table, and M = me.
T: Hey, what song is this playing? It's kind of cool, and noticed everyone kinda went crazy.
M: Are you serious? Please tell me you're joking.
T: Nope.
M: It's called pour some sugar on me, it's like the ultimate 80's hair metal song!
T2: That's the chorus...(singing with the beat)
M: That's hilarious...you don't listen to much older music, I'm guessing. If I threw out the names Bon Jovi or ACDC would you know who I'm talking about?
T: Nope
M: You guys aren't from this part of town, are you.
T: We were just driving by and saw the line outside, this place looked like it was the place to be tonight.
M: This is one of the only bars in this area that is allowed to be open late night, the crowd packs in after 2:00am when the other places close. I really think it's a shame they put a dance floor in the middle of this place, though. That's just cruel. They know it's all whiteys that come here. That ain't right.
T: Haha, yeah we know. It's pretty bad. But I'm not that good of a dancer, myself.
M: (to guy) Is this girl trying to pretend she's white? She likes 80's hair metal, says she can't dance, and hits the late night bar on Clark St...
T: (starts laughing, grabs my arm) I like this guy!
M: See, I feel bad for that guy over there. He's very content drinking a beer and hanging out. Give him a minute, or the next song, whatever...and the girls he's with are going to make him go on the dance floor. That ain't right. They can see that he can't dance, I mean look at that guy.
T: Can you really dance to this rock stuff anyway?
M: (motions to dance floor) Uhh, you tell me, does it look like it?
(All three start cracking up)
M: Hey, I think that girl in the corner is saying something to you.
T: Actually, I think she was talking to you...
M: [squinting eyes to see her] Oh, her. Don't mind her, that's just my stalker. She normally doesn't say anything, she just sort of lurks. It's really been a fun experience having one, I recommend you try it sometime.
T: [grinning, trying not to laugh] So is she like hiding out in the bushes outside your place everyday?
M: Nah, she made friends with the people who live in the apartment across the street, so goes in there and has her binoculars. Sometimes you gotta give them what they want, though, right? Like walking around in a towel for a bit.
T: That's all you give? You're such a tease.
M: Hey, I'm no hoar! You gotta at least buy me dinner first.
T: So if we went to Micky-D's first then that's OK?
M: [Trying to pretend like I have attitude] Who do you think I am? You ain't gonna be taking me to no Micky-D's, dollar menu crap! I want the real deal, a steak dinner or nice italian joint.
T: Ahh, gotcha. Just seeing where the line is here.
M: Well, that is, unless you get me drunk first.
T2: We're at a bar and it's 3:00am.
M: Touche!
[Usher song comes on]
T: Finally! Hey, we're dancing. [grabs me and we go on dance floor]
I dance a song and then bail, I *hate* dancing. Only time I ever do it is for a hottie like that, but even then I can only stand doing it a little. I went back to talk to the girl in the corner, she's a bartender at another bar that I go to a bit so recognized me. She was giving me props for my game, it was pretty funny.
Anyway, after a couple more songs they called last call, so we [me and bartender friend, and her girlfriends, and my buddy] decided to leave, I think the girl was still on the dance floor. Didn't get her number.
Is the only way to fix this one to stay on the dance floor here? I hate that crap but that definitely seems like where I went wrong. Our conversation was pretty long, longer than what I posted [it was 3:00am and I was drunk, so don't remember all of it...it was basically me making race-related stereotype jokes, they were cracking up the whole time. They were the only black people in the entire bar] She was getting touchy-feely and definitely seemed into me, I felt like it was going well.
Just to shorthand, T = hottie, T2 = other hottie, G = other guy at table, and M = me.
T: Hey, what song is this playing? It's kind of cool, and noticed everyone kinda went crazy.
M: Are you serious? Please tell me you're joking.
T: Nope.
M: It's called pour some sugar on me, it's like the ultimate 80's hair metal song!
T2: That's the chorus...(singing with the beat)
M: That's hilarious...you don't listen to much older music, I'm guessing. If I threw out the names Bon Jovi or ACDC would you know who I'm talking about?
T: Nope
M: You guys aren't from this part of town, are you.
T: We were just driving by and saw the line outside, this place looked like it was the place to be tonight.
M: This is one of the only bars in this area that is allowed to be open late night, the crowd packs in after 2:00am when the other places close. I really think it's a shame they put a dance floor in the middle of this place, though. That's just cruel. They know it's all whiteys that come here. That ain't right.
T: Haha, yeah we know. It's pretty bad. But I'm not that good of a dancer, myself.
M: (to guy) Is this girl trying to pretend she's white? She likes 80's hair metal, says she can't dance, and hits the late night bar on Clark St...
T: (starts laughing, grabs my arm) I like this guy!
M: See, I feel bad for that guy over there. He's very content drinking a beer and hanging out. Give him a minute, or the next song, whatever...and the girls he's with are going to make him go on the dance floor. That ain't right. They can see that he can't dance, I mean look at that guy.
T: Can you really dance to this rock stuff anyway?
M: (motions to dance floor) Uhh, you tell me, does it look like it?
(All three start cracking up)
M: Hey, I think that girl in the corner is saying something to you.
T: Actually, I think she was talking to you...
M: [squinting eyes to see her] Oh, her. Don't mind her, that's just my stalker. She normally doesn't say anything, she just sort of lurks. It's really been a fun experience having one, I recommend you try it sometime.
T: [grinning, trying not to laugh] So is she like hiding out in the bushes outside your place everyday?
M: Nah, she made friends with the people who live in the apartment across the street, so goes in there and has her binoculars. Sometimes you gotta give them what they want, though, right? Like walking around in a towel for a bit.
T: That's all you give? You're such a tease.
M: Hey, I'm no hoar! You gotta at least buy me dinner first.
T: So if we went to Micky-D's first then that's OK?
M: [Trying to pretend like I have attitude] Who do you think I am? You ain't gonna be taking me to no Micky-D's, dollar menu crap! I want the real deal, a steak dinner or nice italian joint.
T: Ahh, gotcha. Just seeing where the line is here.
M: Well, that is, unless you get me drunk first.
T2: We're at a bar and it's 3:00am.
M: Touche!
[Usher song comes on]
T: Finally! Hey, we're dancing. [grabs me and we go on dance floor]
I dance a song and then bail, I *hate* dancing. Only time I ever do it is for a hottie like that, but even then I can only stand doing it a little. I went back to talk to the girl in the corner, she's a bartender at another bar that I go to a bit so recognized me. She was giving me props for my game, it was pretty funny.
Anyway, after a couple more songs they called last call, so we [me and bartender friend, and her girlfriends, and my buddy] decided to leave, I think the girl was still on the dance floor. Didn't get her number.
Is the only way to fix this one to stay on the dance floor here? I hate that crap but that definitely seems like where I went wrong. Our conversation was pretty long, longer than what I posted [it was 3:00am and I was drunk, so don't remember all of it...it was basically me making race-related stereotype jokes, they were cracking up the whole time. They were the only black people in the entire bar] She was getting touchy-feely and definitely seemed into me, I felt like it was going well.