When I think of wingmen, I usually think of Barney on How I Met Your Mother. But when I try to think of a good wingwoman, nothing really comes to mind. A wingwoman is basically the female equivalent of a wingman. Sometimes girls need help too. But sometimes trying to get a little help from your friends makes you even worse off than you would’ve otherwise been.
I told my friend the other night that an ideal guy for me would be like Adam Scott’s character from Parks and Recreation. Because he’s cute, funny, and awkward, and not typically the type of guy you would really go for. But you grow to like him. She asked me if that kind of guy would even go to a bar. I think he would go, but reluctantly. She told me I should look for a guy who looks out of place and as if he just came from work. No such guy was to be found. Everyone at the bar was just drunk and obnoxious and wearing a whole lot of plaid. I know, you’re thinking, what did I expect? My friend proceeded to point out to me what she thought was the closest version of Adam Scott for me. I nearly threw up a little as I glanced at the weedy, nerdy hipster who was only awkward because he was so drunk. She failed at knowing my type. She failed at being my wingwoman.
I had also promised another friend that I would try to be her wingwoman. And who does she pick out? The guy in the house band. Who just happened to be the hottest guy in the bar. How can you call dibs on the hottest guy in the bar? That’s just not fair. Some other random chick gave him her number. A lot of random chicks probably gave him their numbers. He’s the kind of guy who probably has tons of girls throwing themselves at him all the time. There’s something sexy about a guy in a band. Especially when he’s a great guitarist in a great band.
I’m generally not the biggest fan of house bands, but they were really great. I loved all the songs they played and their versions of them were great. I danced and sang along whenever they were onstage (which was probably insulting now that I think about it, as I am neither a good dancer nor a good singer). I just wish I’d had a bit more personal space. Or any at all for that matter. It hinders your ability to enjoy yourself when you’re constantly being shoved by the masses in the crowd. At times I fought the urge to punch someone in the face (I figured I may not fare so well in a bar fight). There was a fight near us of one point and some guy got put in a headlock and kicked out the door. Not sure what he did. Maybe it’s best not to know.
So we danced whenever the house band played. And we danced close to the stage. A little closer each time they went on. At one point we were right by it and the hot guitarist moved closer to the edge. He held out his guitar pick and gave it to me. And then motioned for me to strum his guitar for the duration of the song. I have no musical talent whatsoever so I’m not even sure if I strummed in time with the music. I don’t even remember what song it was that was playing. But yeah. I just remember being happy. And then I remembered that my friend liked him. And that I had failed as her wingwoman by falling for the same guy as her. That’s why you don’t call dibs on the hottest guy at the bar. Things will never go well when you do that.
So yeah, now I’m sort of in love with the guitarist from the house band at Joe’s Apartment. I mean, as I looked around at all the drunk obnoxious guys that were filling up the place, no one could compare. And if I couldn’t have the hot guy, I didn’t want to settle. I’ve heard that they do play there regularly, so I could always go back. That wouldn’t be too creepy stalkerish, would it? I mean I like the music they play, that alone is reason enough to go back. And if not, I always have the guitar pick to remember him by.