and the role of the wing will be played by…

We’ll be taking a break from the usual ubf perspective on all things you should stop doing, start doing or do horizontally related to the dating game. Instead I’m going to bring you into one of my recent nights of randomness.

On this particular evening, I stepped out for a drink with one of the homiettes I hadn’t seen in a while. While we caught up on the latest happenings in each other’s lives, we noticed a guy on his dolo right next to us. Given our similar levels of melanin in the ‘we are the world’ bar, he felt comfortable enough to pop in and out of our conversation sporadically but mainly kept a drink in his hand and his eyes on the door. Once I realized he wasn’t going to be robbing the place, I assumed his eventual company was running on a little cpt.

Fast forward 30 minutes or so and two females greet him with the standard full frontal hug displaying their knowledge of each other’s existence prior to this meeting (not relevant to this story but anytime you can type full frontal you go for it…right?). The homiette and I continue to converse in what has now become the black section of the bar.

Then the randomness begins…

Enter 1.5 attractive females (2 girls…1 attractive one and 1 that has an attractive friend) that must have missed the last NAACP meeting as no one from our section knew them. I and homeboy formerly known as dolo dude take note of newly found target barmate and her accompanying assets. I do believe the exact phrasing went something like, “Damn.”

He then simultaneously gives his friends the heisman and begins to saunter towards the 1.5 fine girls with a walk that says “I’m going to go holla.” Hearing opportunity do its best police knock for my new found friend, I inform the homiette that his chances would improve significantly with a wingman. Being a true homiette, she approves the idea.

***Pause for station identification…as ubf historians know, this is not normal behavior for me as I tend to be more of shooting guard than passer… but after seeing what a cold hearted lady dog karma was last week, I decided to do some paying it forward…and I was drunk…back to your regularly scheduled program***

So my friend of 46 minutes and I introduce ourselves. The standard ‘My name is onetrik and I’d like to see what combination of impressive personal characteristics, drinks and incidental contact could lead to coitous’ begins. But this time there was a twist. As the designated wingman, my job was not to pump team onetrik but instead I was there to do my best rondo and drop dimes for this dude. Now given the nearly 10 years I’ve spent in these streets with elrock, I’d be able to lob him well timed and perfectly executed assists. But dolo dude (whose name I didn’t even know at this time) made for an infinitely more challenging exercise that would only become more difficult.

For starters, our approach found me standing next to a disproportionate amount of the fineness while he was mistakenly located next to the speed bump (appropriately named as she could only impede the potential of a positive outcome). Next he reveals that he is a comedian which now means two things: 1) He is going to play the funny guy card which I had in my hand ready to throw out; 2) A comedian in LA not on the Kings of Comedy path isn’t really a real job so I now have to down play what I do in real life. Not too mention the speed bump decides to ask me what kind of car I drive as it was a relevant point to some nonsensical story I was telling. I then have to determine do I go with the correct answer which will no doubt sway the panty droppage unfairly in my way or do I lie. I went with a lie in the form of the joke only to realize that I had indeed played the funny card moments after he just unsuccessfully told some of his material. As the holes in our ‘friendship’ began to become evident, the speed bump (playing her role ever so well at this point) asks how we know each other.

[Insert awkward pause]

He then offers the truth but with a small addendum…that we thought they were BOTH attractive. So my wing mission has now hit a little turbulence as he has officially set me up with the 0.5 of this duo.

Go through 20 more minutes of wasted life conversation and I realize that he has no plans on wrapping this up. At this point, the homiette is second guessing her approval and I’m second guessing my assistance in this poorly thought out plan. We are then luckily saved by the lights of the bar coming on and a lovely 6’4 350lb pound man asking us to not go home but get the hell outta the bar. Dolo dude suggests we exchange information given apparent pending success. Following that uncomfortable ‘I just gave my number to some random guy’ moment,  I sense my chance to exit sans speed bump’s feelings being crushed so I excuse myself to the bathroom. I come out to only find the homiette waiting and no sign of the others.

I make it the crib for my late night viewing of skinemax ESPN classic reruns to receive the following text:

“My nig good looking out 2nite”

Yes it was indeed a good look.

onetrik…realizing I’m more of a breast man than wing…

 

 

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About usbottlesandfriends
The tales of unpredictable truths from those guys your mom warned you about.

7 Responses to and the role of the wing will be played by…

  1. JQ says:

    That was awfully generous of you… he would have a gotten a, “may the best man win” and shorty would have gotten the full representative.*

    *disclaimer: in my single days

  2. The D.E.F.I. says:

    Anyone not with me is against me; if I don’t know you or know someone who knows you, I’m not taking the wingman hit for you. It’s a favor that you do for someone who’s earned it, either through their own wingmanning in the past (or potentially in the future), or through some other personal sacrifice.

    I think you just earned a year’s worth of karma. Make good use of it. Great read.

    And, FYI, I think the “I’m a comedian” thing is true in ANY city, not just L.A. If you’re a comedian in Pittsburgh and you’re not making major moves, it’s not going to have any effect in the drawer-dropping business.

    • I’ll most likely ruin this good karma on a random #whyidrink friday….but as is life…

      the “comedian” thing can not only be transferred from cities but to other occupations such as “actor”, “professional athlete (not in the league)”, “model”, “black father”…I’ll stop there….

  3. Soumynona says:

    Onetreeezay! I missed you guys, it’s been a while. I commend your wingmandom. Giving your number to a random cat is hilarious, pretty soon he’s gonna send you texts to his comedy shows or try and get you to join his primerica (ponzi scheme) team. I will say this, impromptu wingman offers a range of flexibility bc you can (un)intentionally hit on the hot chick among other things. Thereby giving added practice (not that any is needed but I’ve always been a guy that loved practice) until the next time you go Tru Grit on ’em

  4. Pingback: what’s in a number… « Us, Bottles, and Friends

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