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burnin_vernon · 02-22-2010, 07:40 PM

I am a single guy in my early thirties. I'm a few laps passed ugly, have a decent job, no debt, a nice house, and a loyal dog. I like football, porno, and books about war.

I lead a fairly unspectacular life in that I don't get out to the pubs to get poopfaced much more. All but 2 of my friends are married and a night out with these guys comes around the same time as Haley's comet.

This makes it hard to meet women for me. I live in a small town and the average prospects for me involve the smokey-voiced single mom with 3 kids hanging off of her while she picks through discount cinnamon buns off the day-old rack.

And I HATE nightclubs. Not even an option.

So on Saturday, when we met some cute, fun women while taking in all the Olympic madness, I was in my wheelhouse. I managed to get them to share a table with us and we were having a good time. The sun was shining, and we had a coveted patio table at a busy pub in Yaletown, surrounded by thousands of cheering Canadians. Life is good.

So after a few beers and some lunch, we are joined by 2 more of their friends. Options. They start talking about a beer pong tourney they were having and invited us to come. Man, was this ever the cure to what ailed me!

But I noticed my wingman was only on beer one, and less than enthused. Now, he is a rather rotund fellow, a little older than me, with fewer prospects than me. He gets out even less than I do so I was almost afraid he would be too eager and blow his cool a bit.

I sensed this so I kept ordering more beer. He stayed on beer one. A guiness. (I know now, that when he orders a guiness, its his way of saying "I'm not into having fun tonight, so I'll nurse this for as long as I have to).

When one of the girls asked for her bill he jumps in asks for ours too. The other 3 girls were staying and I wanted to stay for a little bit too as we were all having a good time. But, not a big deal, we had tickets to the Victory ceremony so we would just meet later for beer pong.

During the concert, wingman was nodding out and I knew it was a bad sign. When we got out, I hoped the night air would wake him up, but, alas, that was it for the night. He was done. I was his ride. Game over.

I admit it was a long day (6am to 9pm) and he had just switched from nights to days at work but to paraphrase George Costanza: Now you listen to me. We're going to this party. I'm single, I have no women on the horizon, I have no place to go… you’re not in the mood? Well you get in the mood!"

I made sure he was part of all the conversation, I set him up to deliver some good lines...he seemed comfortable with everything.

So now I have come to the full realization that I have no wingmen at all. I am in the war all alone. I think I'll go watch, "I love you man".

02-22-2010, 07:40 PM	#1
burnin_vernon Powerplay Quarterback Join Date: Feb 2006 Location: Vancouver Exp:	The importance of the wingman I am a single guy in my early thirties. I'm a few laps passed ugly, have a decent job, no debt, a nice house, and a loyal dog. I like football, porno, and books about war. I lead a fairly unspectacular life in that I don't get out to the pubs to get poopfaced much more. All but 2 of my friends are married and a night out with these guys comes around the same time as Haley's comet. This makes it hard to meet women for me. I live in a small town and the average prospects for me involve the smokey-voiced single mom with 3 kids hanging off of her while she picks through discount cinnamon buns off the day-old rack. And I HATE nightclubs. Not even an option. So on Saturday, when we met some cute, fun women while taking in all the Olympic madness, I was in my wheelhouse. I managed to get them to share a table with us and we were having a good time. The sun was shining, and we had a coveted patio table at a busy pub in Yaletown, surrounded by thousands of cheering Canadians. Life is good. So after a few beers and some lunch, we are joined by 2 more of their friends. Options. They start talking about a beer pong tourney they were having and invited us to come. Man, was this ever the cure to what ailed me! But I noticed my wingman was only on beer one, and less than enthused. Now, he is a rather rotund fellow, a little older than me, with fewer prospects than me. He gets out even less than I do so I was almost afraid he would be too eager and blow his cool a bit. I sensed this so I kept ordering more beer. He stayed on beer one. A guiness. (I know now, that when he orders a guiness, its his way of saying "I'm not into having fun tonight, so I'll nurse this for as long as I have to). When one of the girls asked for her bill he jumps in asks for ours too. The other 3 girls were staying and I wanted to stay for a little bit too as we were all having a good time. But, not a big deal, we had tickets to the Victory ceremony so we would just meet later for beer pong. During the concert, wingman was nodding out and I knew it was a bad sign. When we got out, I hoped the night air would wake him up, but, alas, that was it for the night. He was done. I was his ride. Game over. I admit it was a long day (6am to 9pm) and he had just switched from nights to days at work but to paraphrase George Costanza: Now you listen to me. We're going to this party. I'm single, I have no women on the horizon, I have no place to go… you’re not in the mood? Well you get in the mood!" I made sure he was part of all the conversation, I set him up to deliver some good lines...he seemed comfortable with everything. So now I have come to the full realization that I have no wingmen at all. I am in the war all alone. I think I'll go watch, "I love you man".