Wingman

Last Thursday afternoon I took a much-needed break from writing to do five hundred push-ups in the nude while drinking a nootropic-enhanced protein shake, listening to NPR, and feeling especially disgusted with the state of the world. About that time, my former neighbor, Dr. Tom – a stoic emergency room physician and self-proclaimed ladies’ man – texted me to inquire if I’d be willing to assist him in a romantic endeavor. “Go on,” I texted back, feeling skeptical. “Well,” he wrote, “I need you to have a late lunch with a slightly annoying woman while I seal the deal with her friend.” Having suffered through something similar for him on a prior occasion, I swiftly declined. However, a few minutes later I succumbed to his well-rehearsed bribery and found myself en route to a popular sports bar in Southie. “Hell,” I thought, “at least this slapdash caper will give me something to write about.” 

Fast-forward thirty minutes and there I was, lounging at the bar and devouring hot wings as a sloshed Tom sat at a nearby table, regaling his tipsy new squeeze with boastful accounts of his emergency room woes. I’d been trying rather hard to avoid conversation with the annoying woman (we’ll call her Tammy) sitting to my left, after her A) being extraordinarily rude to the bartender without the slightest provocation, B) repeatedly referring to herself in the third-person during an overly loud phone call, and C) promptly warning me that she was “in an extra bitchy mood after a super stressful week.” The source of her stress? A malfunctioning home tanning bed. That sort of comically myopic whining about distinctly first-world problems is near the top of my list of pet peeves, so for that and numerous other reasons I thought it best to avoid speaking rather than tell her the truth. However, my sentiment would soon change.

The following is a transcript of our “discussion,” which I recorded on my phone after sensing that a clusterfuck was imminent:

Tammy: “So, does the cat have your damn tongue or what?” 

Me: “I’m eating. And I’m always quiet around people until I understand who they are.”

Tammy: “That’s weird. Who am I, then?” 

Me: “That’s not worth exploring at the moment.”

Tammy: “What? Why? Because you don’t have any idea?”

Me: “Because I don’t want to fuck things up for Tom.”

Tammy: “What the hell do you mean by that?”

Me: “Never mind.”

Tammy: <increasingly haughty tone> “Whatever. Tell me about Tom. What’s his deal, anyway?”

Me: <restrained chuckle> You’re using a loaded question in the hopes that I’ll clumsily reveal something undesirable about my friend so that you can melodramatically intervene and attempt to ruin his chances.

Tammy: “Smart guy, eh? You study psychology, right? Then tell me this. Why would you get a tattoo on your face. That’s stupid.”

Me: “You’re about twenty pounds overweight, right? Then tell me this. Why would you get sliders AND nachos for lunch? That’s stupid.”

Tammy: “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Me: “You lack perspective.”

Tammy: “You don’t know anything about me!”

Me: “I know everything about you.”

Tammy: “Then tell me, smartass.”

Me: <audibly sighing> “You’re a colossally insecure and bitter woman who unsuccessfully attempts to mask her obvious lack of confidence with unearned arrogance, baseless presumptions, theatrical egotism, and a warped sense of self-entitlement. You’re just smart enough to recognize that you aren’t intelligent, but rather than compensate for that by being kind or funny or interesting, you make bitchiness your primary mission in life. In the end, you’re a laughably oblivious, carbon-copy twit who would rather wallow in jealousy and self-loathing while randomly spewing vitriol than make any effort to be a more worthwhile human being.”

Tammy: “Go fuck yourself!!”

Me: “Are you going to eat those sliders?”

<Tammy storms out of the restaurant>

Postscript: I definitely fucked things up for ol’ Tom, but the eavesdropping bartender picked up my tab with a smile.

 
 

9 Responses

  1. LOL says:

    Amazing.

  2. Andy says:

    Brilliant writing my friend. What became of Tom’s new squeeze after that glorious shitshow?

    • Jon says:

      Thank you. She left the restaurant in a frenzy almost immediately after her friend. However, Tom simply laughed about it upon hearing my side of the story and listening to the audio recording.

  3. A Big Fan says:

    What are you doing outside of social media to promote this website? Every guy in America needs to be reading this shit.

    • Jon says:

      I’ve been distributing fliers and I currently have some guerrilla marketing schemes in the works. We’ll see where it goes from there. Thanks for reading.

  4. Susan D. says:

    Love this. May I consider this a primer on the mid-life meet and greetđŸ˜‚

  5. Ruston says:

    That is worth reading twice. Enjoyed it.

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