The Nice Girl
For my good friend Shaun
It's been my experience that at every large party, there is one of these specimens: The Nice Girl. She enters the main room of the party with a big, beautiful smile and usually curly hair that you just want to tug while you're railing her from behind…here's a little second person account for ya.
Across the room, you see her: the target. She's gorgeous: your type completely. You get your bearrings, smack yourself in the face a little (you have a nervous habit, alright?) and walk over. You're drunk. She's not so drunk.
“Hey Sarah,” you say. “My name's Michelle,” she responds. “Okay Sarah,” you respond. You've had past success with this routine. She smiles and hits you “Okay, you're just an asshole.”
“That I am,” you say. You've learned from your buddy Nick Gaudio that things should be like this. You've established a certain relationship with the girl, she knows you're not intimidated. It's a lame trick, but why not? You're down to your DOS prompt for flirting. Except now instead of C, colon, slash, you think C, colon, slash, poke, poke, poke (nerd joke for ma readers!).
You go on to talk about your hometowns, your interests, your hobbies, basically anything you can come up with while concentrating on her eyes and not her fabulous tits. She's not from the same area, but an area like yours. She likes the same music; she's an ex-weed smoker like you. She loves to hear about your fascination with cars, all the while still smiling a bright white smile.
You're thinking, “I've got this one” and the night proceeds as such. There is no reason to think that this bangin broad doesn't want to hop your bones at the party. A few girls come over, picking up the good vibes between you two. Life is wonderful.
Until…
WHAM. “I'm leaving.”
What? W-W-What? Is that right? No. No. No.
Something doesn't compute here. You should've been sticking it in her meat pocket like underappreciated pepperoni.
Well it's time to at least ask her number right?
You again center yourself, this threat wasn't expected. You ask for the number. She smiles, “I'm sorry, but I'm strange about giving out my number, goodbye.”
And that's it, dude. I'm sorry. Your buddies had to sit around the party and notice your pain. In fact, your failure may even seem like a disappointment to them (after one of your friends CALLED IT AND YOU STILL STEPPED IN TO FAIL ANYWAYS!!!!! just kiddin, heh).
What happened here?
Obviously, son, you're not familiar with the Uncommonly Nice Girl. She's single, cute and otherwise your type. She flirts and smiles and acts interested in everything you have to say, only to leave you feeling as though you wasted your whole night dicking around the bush. She was a waste of time, and you can only hope she sees what she's missing the next day, remembers your name and then takes the extra effort (which she most likely won't take) to add you to facebook.
So, you take solace in your friends, most of the comfort coming from the music (Pilot, “It's Magic”) and the alcohol (shitty Natty from a keg). Nick Gaudio is there to tell you what you did wrong, though tell you good job for trying. Ryan and Sam are there to laugh.
Though, the jokes on them, when the girl Sam is taking home only talks about the size of Nick Gaudio's dick on the car ride home. See, you knew that they fucked, but you didn't realize that Nick Gaudio has a much bigger penis, and that girls talk about it all the time, hence his success with women. You mope but concede to the thought of your best friend having a monstercock.
But Nick realizes the problem, after this girl talks about his cock for at least 20 minutes. You find comfort in the fact that Nick convinces this girl to kiss another girl when they're dropped off at their apartment. All watch as Nick convinces them to kiss not once, not twice, but three times. You're happy that he was brought along, you tell him and he puts on Skid Row's “I remember you” while a beer is passed to each man in the car.
The Uncommonly Nice Girl fucked you good, son; but at least you saw Nick Gaudio manipulate two stupid women and your buddy Sam get his just desserts.
It was a good night.
The End.