As you may recall, at our last meeting our fair maiden/ sweet singleton (c'mon, I'm allowed a little creative license, right?) was headed off to a Stir even to meet toads or a frog, come what may.
I should have been more specific. I was looking for a *male* frog or toad. As it turned out, the ladies I met were a better replacement for a potential suitor - we really hit it off and I know we'll have many great times together in the future. So if success is determined in how many numbers you go home with, I did pretty well. There were 29 women and eight men who signed up for the event; I came home with two contact numbers. Believe it or not, them's good stats. By the way, before we move on... did you notice something? I said 29 women (including myself) and eight women. Eight. Men. That's roughly three and a half women for every man. Those are amazing odds... for the guys. Notsomuch for the rest of us. ; )
When I walked in to the venue, I spied an open barstool flanked by ladies to the left, ladies to the right. Not having yet realized the male:female ratio yet, I sat down and ordered a drink thinking I'd move to more testosterone filled pastures after a bit. I didn't. I started talking to the ladies sitting by me, and we shared parenting stories, dating horror stories, and the like. It was enjoyable and entertaining. And we were not interrupted by any other attendees. As the ladies and I chatted, we soon came to the conclusion that this was the best it was going to get. We were right. We decided that after we were done we'd move on to more local sites where hopefully the pickins wouldn't be quite so... slim. Before we were able to wrap things up, one of The Eight approached us.
He was pretty harmless at first glance - had on a t-shirt and jeans, about 55-65 years old and was easy enough to talk to, especially since he was the only one who'd been brave enough to start talking to us. Turns out he's from the same area of town as we are and we had a nice conversation about his job, the local market, etc. When it was time to go, we (and by "we" I mean me and my lady friends) said we'd meet at another venue and headed out, waving goodbye to Ralph*, The Brave.
Later at Venue Two we were at the bar, eating pizza and listening to music when what to our wondering eyes should appear but
The next night was yet another eventful night, the beginning of our local Irish pub's St Patrick's Day celebrations, as St Patrick's Day is the pub's High Holy Day. My friends and I gathered for a quick pint and a brief opportunity to enjoy the place before it's descended upon by SPD partiers who only visit once a year the way others only go to church on Christmas or Easter. We had effectively secured our favorite table (prime real estate, thankyouverymuch) and were having a grand ole' time. Until...
I felt a pat on my back. Smiling I turned around to see what friend had joined us and saw... Ralph. Ralph the Brave was quickly descending into the ranks of Ralph the Stalker. Now, I know he has a good heart. I mean, I'm pretty sure he does. He seemed harmless at first. But... that's a little much. I thought it was a coincidence until I remembered part of the conversation from the night before when Ralph asked if I would be at the Thursday night event. "Nope," I told him... and proceeded to explain about the pub's SPD celebrations. Stupid, silly, mouthy Missy. Too much information. Just no. I should have said just "no" - always talking to much. Oh well. As we talked he said, "We have a friend in common!" I was stunned and asked who - he gave me a little information and I realized who it was, but I was still stunned. Here's the deal: all I could think was "What could have possibly prompted you to be talking about me to someone else after knowing me less than 24 hours and truly knowing very little about me?"It was... creepy! It was! I guess I could be flattered, but I was creeped. Out.
Soon after that, one of my friends asked if I needed help. Gentle reader, understand - I have been in many an uncomfortable conversation with a man. I have had ample experience in getting away from the unwanted advances of a stranger. It's easy for me and I have no problem making my excuses and getting away. There's no getting away from this guy - I couldn't even fit my glass in between us to take a sip or get a breath. Extreme. Close. Talker. So when my friend whispered in my ear "Do you need help?" I said YES!!!!!! She got one of the bartenders, a huge older man who used to play college football, to come over and whisk me away. He waited around for about ten minutes and when he moved on I was able to get back to my friends. It's worth noting that while one friend offered help, she first went to my best friend and said "We need to help Missy!" to which she replied "Nooo!!! This is too fun to watch." In her defense, I bet it was.
Now... I feel bad about this, even today. I'm not a mean person. I'm not an unkind person. I never want to do something that makes people sad or unhappy or in any way rejected... I'm just not that kind of person. I know he felt bad when he left, and I hate that. But... he made me so uncomfortable! It was... too much. So, now I have guilt and definitely have a completely awkward situation just WAITING for me out there. As we all know, even though I have lived here six and a half years and never run in to Ralph once, you can rest assured I will run in to him over and over now. It's Murphy's Law, and it will always have the upper hand. Maybe, just maybe I'll meet a wonderful woman about Ralph's age who's a close talker and likes to stalk and I'll be able to introduce them and he'll have his happily ever after. Odds are good I'll meet her before he does, and I'll meet her at a Stir event.
*name has been changed to protect the