1-Dec-2004

Sorry it took so long to continue. My cousins in Houston had problems with Internet service. I’ll write about Houston later. Now then, where was I…

We got in, had a drink at the bar downstairs. This was a multi-level club. The bottom level was a mini-concert of sorts, with a stage and someone singing. Boring, so we went upstairs, where there was a club floor and good, hard techno music. I got another couple of drinks in me, and was good to go. I had now reached a point where I was definitely non-self-conscious. I wasn’t in any danger of falling down or anything, I wasn’t that drunk. But I no longer had any reservations about dancing near an attractive girl and actually trying to dance with her (without seeming too sketchy, of course). In fact, at one point, I was dancing next to these two girls, and one of them turned towards me and we started dancing. And for about 30 seconds, there might actually have been some grinding. I was so excited, I actually tossed the remainder of my lollipop, which I had gotten from the bathroom (this was one of those clubs that had a guy in the bathroom whose sole job was to direct you to the next available urinal and hand you a paper towel when you’d washed up, and the sinks were covered with all sorts of lollipops and candies). Of course, shortly thereafter the girl went back to dancing with her friend, and they kinda wandered away. I’ll assume it wasn’t because of me.

One thing about this club… there were a fair amount of girls, but there were a LOT of guys. And some of them definitely looked like they were looking for other guys. In fact, I think at one point a guy actually tried to hit on me. I was spending a good amount of time walking through the crowd trying to find girls to dance with. I heard someone talking to me, in a friendly conversational tone. I turn and see this young dude smiling at me, and he’s talking some more. I don’t remember what he was saying, I just remember that I didn’t want to deal with it. Now, I’m not homophobic in the least. I’m all for gay marriage and such. But when I’m drunk in a club and looking for girls to dance with, the last thing I want to do is indulge in polite conversation with some guy I don’t know, gay or not. I mumbled something, faced forward, and kept walking.

Later, I went back to the bar for water. I was pretty dehydrated at this point, and was trying to compensate. Now, in California bars, they don’t give you water in a cup for free, you have to buy bottles. I hate that (and will try not to do it if I ever start tending bar, but more on that later). I asked the ;female bartender for water, and she gave me water in a glass, and I ;was definitely happy. ;She was pretty cute, so I started talking to her. I don’t think I actually heard her say a word, she was mostly just nodding or ;shaking her head. ;
Me: “So, how often do you get asked out?”
She shakes her head to indicate no.
Me: You’re lying, I’m sure you get asked out a lot (I think I said this. I’m fuzzy)
I think I even told her that the only reason I wasn’t asking her out was because I wasn’t from the area. Real charming, no? ;But wait, it gets better. I ask her for a pen, and start writing on one of the bar napkins. I don’t remember the text exactly, but the gist of it was:
I don’t believe you don’t get asked out, because you’re the prettiest girl here. And I’m drunk, so you know I’m being honest.
She read it, smiled at me and said Thank You. I walked away, feeling pretty good. Was talking to my cousin V in the hallway outside, and I ask him
Think I should give her my phone number? Why not, right?
Sure, go for it.

So I go back to the bar, ask for the pen again, and start writing another note on a napkin:
Name: Chirag
Location: San Jose
Cell:
(I was concentrating here, to make sure I didn’t screw up) 713-xxx-xxxx (Sorry, I’m too smart to put my real number here. )
I don’t know if this will work, but I figure I might as well try. Just so you know, I’m not usually this sketchy.
She reads this note too, smiles and thanks me again. I motion her closer and tell her:
Next time I come down here, I’m asking you out.
She nods ok, and I swagger on out. That’s right, I swaggered.
(V told me later that both times she read my notes, she blushed.)
I was feeling pretty good. The way I figured it, worst case, she was flattered and had a cute story for her friends the next day. Best case, I’d get a call. Win-win.

When I told my friend Tina about this later, she said that she was impressed at how smooth I was. I later told the story to my sister, who is one of my fiercest critics (in a good way, usually). When I mentioned the “I’m drunk, so I’m being honest”, I saw her raise her eyebrows in the “DAMN” kinda way. I asked her,
Was it smooth?
Yeah, it was smooth.

Hehehe… of course, this sets a bad precedent. I am now convinced that the only way I can be totally calm and cool and smooth with a girl is if I’ve had a Long Island or two under my belt (or in my stomach). Who knows, if I’d been drunk the first few times I’d met Tanvi, college might have been a wholly different experience for me.

To be continued (basically the rest of the night, and the following day when I see HOLLYWOOD!!, as well as 90210)

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