Life. Men. Alcohol. Shoes.

Thursday, March 23

There's a reason it's called a Wing MAN

The other night out with College Friend, I determined the guy/girl wingman combo is the perfect setup...

No competition - 1

Increased approachability - 2

Easy conversation starter - 3

(The unexpected guy/girl wingman combo allows you to size up potentially interesting individuals without being obvious.)

Unbiased opinions - 4

The boyfriend/girlfriend card - 5

(Trumps the terribly ineffective lesbian card.)

Enough sexual tension to keep us protective of each other - 6

(Not wanting to see the other with a "dog" we cockblock the unworthy.)

While at the bar, College Friend met a beauty (think Penelope Cruz), as they got to know each other, I entertained her three hanger-on dude friends. One was a smashing mirror of Sean Austin (you know the fat hobbit?) who was coincidently completely wasted.

At 4am my wingman duty was complete, College Friend and Penelope had exchanged numbers and there was no sign of their night ending. I however, had no interest in the Fat Hobbit and said my goodbyes. (The following details have just been relayed to me, in a post-night out call with College Friend.)

College Friend and Penelope didn't want the night to end, so they headed to the corner diner. Her wingmen, including the Hobbit, accompanied them. Somewhere between placing orders and the food arriving, the Hobbit passed out at the table. As they all finished eating, one of his friends joted a quick note, "Please take me home," pinned it to the Hobbit's chest and left him seated at the table.

That's it. End of night. Isn't that terrible? Isn't that the worst display of friendship you've ever heard?


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