I have a buddy who fancies himself quite the ladies' man. Well, let's be frank, I have lots of buddies who fancy themselves quite the ladies' men. I think it's a predisposition of the male species to err on the side of confidence, or at least the appearance of confidence, when dealing with the fairer sex. Obviously, this is not always the case and even the best looking, most intelligent, genuinely hilarious guy deals with bouts of insecurity, but when was the last time you saw a homely, overweight, snaggle-toothed girl approach a super hot guy in a bar and lay down her best game? That's what I thought. To all of the gorgeous women reading this blog, and I like to imagine there are thousands sitting on pins and needles waiting to see what I'll write next (I'm a guy, that's what we do), how many times have you been approached by a guy with a beer gut, stained shirt, bad hair, and a braided belt and had to reject his advances while he fumbled on oblivious to your rejections? Long story short: if one sex is more prone to out-punting its coverage, it's the one with the external plumbing, just saying.
Anyhow, back to my buddy; we'll call him Kevin. Kevin is not a guy who consistently out-punts his coverage. It's not that he's an Adonis or anything, but the kid has a lot going for him. He's funny, intelligent, and confident. In most cases, that will carry a guy pretty far. Interpret "pretty far" as you will. So, Kevin was in the gym at his apartment complex the other day working out when an attractive young lady we'll call Jennifer walked in to take a spin on the treadmill. Kevin was actually about to finish up his workout, but being ever on the prowl, decided to extend his run for a while in the hopes that there would be an opening to initiate a conversation. He's cagey for his age.
A good twenty minutes later and feeling closer to his aerobic limit than he would like, Kevin decided to call it quits. Women love a fit guy, but a guy who passes out on the treadmill screams manorexic. As he was toweling off and collecting his things, Jennifer decided to introduce herself by way of saying she was glad he had finished his workout because she was going to be embarrassed if she started after him but finished before him. They exchanged casual banter and then as they were leaving she gave him her apartment number and said if he ever wanted to hang out he should stop by. Success!
Back in his apartment and basking in the glory of attention received, Kevin's sense of victory was soon tempered with the realization that there were two apartments with the same number in the complex, albeit in separate buildings. One was four doors down from his apartment and the other was across the street. Thinking there was no chance he would not have noticed a sultry vixen living mere feet from his front door, he confidently concluded that Jennifer must live in the same numbered apartment across the street. When he ran this logic by me a few days later I had to agree that it made sense. All good so far.
As he was working late hours that week, he decided he couldn't just stop by after he got off work. Again, this makes sense. A knock on the door at 11:00PM screams, "I really just want to do you." Every guy knows that even if that is precisely all he wants, actually admitting to it isn't going to get him anywhere. However, he didn't feel he could wait the 10 days until his schedule settled down as she might think he wasn't interested or, even worse, forget she'd invited him over in the first place or even who he was. There could be nothing more awkward than knocking on a girl's door and then reintroducing yourself and reminding her how you met as she stared at you blankly...except maybe the spelling of the word "awkward." Seriously, it's pretty awkward. Look at it. I'm right.
Kevin decided that the best course of action was to leave a note on her door with his name and number on it that said, "Hey, I'm working odd hours this week, but if you want to grab a beer sometime soon, give me a shout," then he skipped off to work. At about 9:00PM that night his phone rang. Thinking it might be Jennifer, he answered hoping she would suggest a beer that night. A guy on the other end of the line asked menacingly, "Is this Kevin?"
Now, up until this point Kevin hadn't done anything wrong. He could have easily said yes and then explained himself innocently if it turned out, and it was looking like it was going to turn out, that Jennifer actually had a boyfriend who may have come by and seen the note before she had. Sometimes though, you're put on the spot and you freeze. It happens to the best of us. Once, during my freshman year in college, my girlfriend, who went to another university, came in to town to visit for Valentine's Day weekend. I was going to a conservative Baptist university with dorm visiting hours and couldn't have her stay with me. Additionally, a dorm room with a roommate, microwave, and no private bathroom says a lot of things, but "romantic soiree" isn't one of them. We decided to stay in a hotel close to campus. I thought everything had gone off without a hitch, but then my dad called midweek and sounded really, really put out. Our conversation went something like this:
Me: Hey dad!
Me: What's up?
Me: Everything ok?
Me: You sure?
Dad: Yeah. Just getting ready to leave town for work.
Me: You're sure everything is cool?
Dad: Yeah. Oh hey, I got something in the mail today asking me how I enjoyed my stay at the Courtyard Inn across from your campus on February the 13th. Care to explain that to me?
At this point, a laundry list of innocent excuses went streaming through my head at warp speed but none of them seemed even remotely plausible and I'd already paused for about 10 seconds so I answered with about the only honest thing my mind could muster at the moment.
Kevin similarly froze and came up with the considerably less honest but equally idiotic answer, "Wrong number," and then hung up.
Clearly, the guy was going to know it was not a wrong number. Seriously. Kevin had written it down on a piece of paper and even if the guy thought he'd misdialed, he could look at his phone and check what he had dialed against Kevin's personally handwritten and signed number.
About an hour later, wondering why on earth a chick with a boyfriend had asked him to stop by, his phone rang again. The caller ID displayed the same number from the menacing guy who he'd told had the wrong number. Not having come up with a better game plan in the interim hour, Kevin let the call go to voicemail.
The guy left a message. It went something like this:
Menacing Guy: Hello, Kevin Pearson, and this is in fact Kevin Pearson's number. Kevin Pearson from Wabash, Indiana who went to Indiana University and studied political science and lives at 3301 146th Street, Apartment 3B. You need to call me and make things right on your end because, to be honest, you're getting into creeper territory and you need to explain yourself. If you don't sack up and call me, things will escalate because I will escalate them.
At this point, Kevin is FREAKING OUT. Who does that?! And what does "escalate things" mean?! The guy already did some serious internet digging to get ALL of his personal information and then called him back and told him about it. Isn't that already an escalation?
So, seeing no other way out of things and not wanting Ike Turner to break down his door, Kevin called the guy back.
Menacing Guy: Hello, Kevin.
Kevin: What the fuck, dude?
Menacing Guy: This is Cornelius. You've got some explaining to do.
Kevin: Dude, I left a note on a door because I met the girl who lives there in the gym and she said to stop by some time to hang out. There isn't anything to it. We're both new in the area. I'm not trying to be shady. How did you get all of my personal information?!
Cornelius: You let me worry about that.
Kevin: What is your deal?
Cornelius: That's all there was to it?
Kevin: Yes! I had no intent. We didn't even talk about relationship stuff or anything. She just said you guys were new in the area and didn't know many people.
At this point, Kevin is assuming Cornelius is her boyfriend (a safe assumption) and, although he's not lying, he's definitely spinning things for damage control.
Cornelius: Ok, man. If you say so. I just gotta watch out for my girl.
Cornelius: Why'd you say I had the wrong number earlier?
Kevin: What? I haven't gotten any calls this evening.
Cornelius: Whatever, man. Say what you want to.
Clearly, this is an awful lie and Kevin really has no way out of it, which makes the next part SO MUCH WORSE.
Cornelius: Sharon's a hot girl and guys are always trying to creep on her.
Kevin: Wait, did you say Sharon? The girl I met was named Jennifer.
The girl he met was Jennifer. And she lives four doors down from Kevin. No way Cornelius believes any of this.