Brain: Look at the title of this!
Me: Yeah, so?
Brain: Don’t make me laugh! You can’t flirt, and you wouldn’t even have a CLUE if someone was flirting with you…….even if they were doing it in your lap.
Me: Who am I, Santa?! Why would someone sit on another person’s lap to flir-
Brain: (cuts off C.S. mid-sentence) What are you doing right now?
Me: Typing? duh!
Brain: GGGGo..Go! Go sit in the corner and face the wall! What you just said was the dumbest thing I have ever heard!
Brain: Fine! You wanna know why women flirt at parties and large social gatherings by sitting on your lap?
Me: You are gonna tell me even if I say no! So why did you even-
Brain: (cuts off C.S. mid-sentence again) PHYSICAL CONTACT, you childish putz! When women flirt, they make innocent physical contact. For instance, a touch of the arm that lingers a little longer than a normal friendly nudge, or a special smile with a glimmer or ‘look’ in the eye. Lastly, and again, in a crowded party or social gathering, a lady might sit on someone’s lap to “hear them better.” They may even say, “oh, there are no seats left; can I sit here?”
Me: You’ve been spending too many late nights staying up, haven’t you?
Brain: That’s…That’s beside the point. When was the last time you tried flirting with someone?
Me: I will admit, it has been a while.
Brian: Its been over a year! You past “a while” two weeks after the last time you flirted.
Me: So what if it has?
Brain: If you don’t use it, you lose it!
Me: Oh, don’t give me that!
Brain: Ok, “Mr. I’m still smooth,” show me what you got?!
Brain: What do you mean what? Let’s go to the bar and show me that you can still do it!
Me: It’s late!
Brain: What are you? Retired?!
(head to the local bar)
Brain: First off, you chose to go here? Strike one!
Me: It’s late, and this place is close to my house. This was not planned AND I have work in the morning!
Brain: (whispers) ssssttttrrrrriiiike one!
Me: Shut up.
(saddle up at the bar, middle seat.)
Me: (orders a beer and sips it looking around the bar)
Me: (glances at the sports game on TV.)
Brian: None of that now! Plus, you don’t even like sports!
Me: Fine! (scans room again)
Me: (another gulp of beer.)
Lady: (walks up and takes a seat next to me, leaving an empty seat between us.)
Lady: Wanna buy me a drink?
Me: Whatda ya have?
Lady: Jack and Coke.
Me: (Orders drink. Slides it to the lady.)
Brain: Ask her something.
Me: (to Lady) So uhh, what brings you out tonight?
Brain: God, you are creepy when you talk!
Lady: Just quit my job.
Me: Oh, what did you do?
Lady: I was a sexual harassment lawyer for a local firm.
Brain: Only you man, only you could get this kind of audience.
Me: Ah, I see! What are you going to do now?
Lady: I have a friend at the D.A.’s office who said they had an opening that I would be perfect for.
Brain: You. Are. Screwed.
Me: Good time to celebrate! Congratulations! (raise glass for cheers)
Lady: Thanks! (clinks my glass)
Me: Forgive me for asking, but if you are celebrating, wouldn’t you want your friends here with you?
Lady: They all went home earlier because they had “work.” pppfffff. (Has a cute, funny look come across her face)
Brain: (whisper) You little son of a –
Me: (Cutting off Brain’s thought) Well, if we are celebrating, we need to dance!
Brain: Yeah, what?!
Me: Yup. (walks over to jukebox and turns on a party song.)
Me: (Starts to wiggle to the rhythm.)
Lady: (starts to join in.)
Me: (making relaxed drunken eye contact with the lady.)
Lady: (doing the same with me)
We move in closer and closer, eyes never leaving each other. Our lips about touch…
(Bang! BANG! BANG!)
Me: (Waking up with my head on the bar. My beer spilled around my head.)
Bartender: Hey, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.
Me: What? Wh…What happened?
Bartender: You walked in, ordered your beer, took two big gulps, looked around, and then passed out on the bar. You were moaning something about a pretty lady.
Brain: By the way, strike two for passing out before anything even happened. And strike three for spilling your beer. GO HOME!
Me: (pays bill and heads out the door, head hung low.)
Me: (sees a familiar lady standing by the curb with another woman waiting for a ride.)
(We lock eyes.) (whispering to myself) I think…was that…is that?!
Lady: What are you looking at CREEP!
Me: Oh!…oh. Nothin’… sorry.
Me: (Drive home and go to bed.)