It all started innocently enough. My buddy Drake dropped by my place and asked me if I wanted to join him at a new corner pub. Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking… “What the hell are you doing going to a corner pub with a guy named Drake? That’s almost as bad as bad as going to a biker bar with a guy named Percy!” Well, I’ll concede that you’re right to some extent. Going to any bar that doesn’t have an Ivy League-sounding name, with a guy named Drake, is trouble waiting to happen. But the fact is, I really do like the guy. He’s smart, funny, and charming, so he’s got no problems getting the fuckwagy women. Hell, they hit on him so often that I usually end up with his slightly-less-fuckwagy castoffs. That in itself is enough reason to hang out with him at least occasionally, right? Throw in the fact that he’s rich and always buys the drinks, and you should now understand why I like to party with the guy.
Per our usual modus operandi, we got to the pub a little early so we could get a good table… you know the type of table we were looking for… close to the bar, so we didn’t have to walk too far if the waitress was slow… close to the bathroom, so we didn’t have to walk too far to get rid of the old beer… close to the door, so we could see the babes as soon as they walked in… but far enough away from each of them to get a good 360 degree view of the whole room, so we could figure out which of the women were available for a night of meaningless romance. Despite the fact that we got there early, there were already several people in the establishment. Fortunately for us though, we spotted a table that suited our needs, and immediately commenced with the liver calisthenics.
By the time we had downed our third drink, the pub was jumpin’. The place was full of fuckwaggies, and I figured that Drake and I would surely be hooked up before the night was out. As soon as that thought finished running through my head, this stunning little waif of a blonde accidentally brushed Drake’s shoulder, flopping her hair and giving a flirtatious apology as she momentarily stopped. Drake, being the playa that he is, wasted no time in introducing himself, and invited her to join us.
“I’d love to join you,” she replied. “Let me go get my friend first,” she continued, twirling a finger through the end of her long blonde locks. Drew and I couldn’t help but stare after as she walked across the bar to get her friend. This gal was a knockout… a real dremu! Then it happened. She got to the table where she and her friend were sitting, and I instantly understood why I hadn’t noticed the dremu before now. Her friend was UVKLREY! A real WVhog! She was so unattractive that my manhood instantly became bologna in my pants.
“Oh well, at least I’m still drinking for free, “I thought, as I resigned myself to the role of wingman for the evening. As the evening progressed, I dutifully played Drake’s straight man, made him look as good as possible to the dremu, and kept the uvklrey chick occupied, giving Drake plenty of time to get in with the dremu. Believe it or not, I began having a lot of fun as the evening progressed. Though I was definitely NOT interested in her physically, I found myself getting along with the uvklrey friend very well. After a half hour or so of truly animated and stimulating conversation, I was even interested enough in her to get her name – Tammy.
Like I said, Tammy was nothing to look at, but she was witty enough to keep the conversation going, with surprisingly few of those awkward lulls that wing-people experience when talking to one another so their friends can hook up.
“Oh shit,” Tammy exclaimed!
“What?”
“It’s my boyfriend.”
Drop by tomorrow for the second installment.
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