The night began when I showed up at Birthday Girl's place of work. For the record, and your understanding of this story, Birthday Girl is the girl I'm interested in for the duration of this story. I'm paying some girls at work to take me shopping and...do whatever so that when I go out I'm not just in the same old jeans and button down shirt. I don't have a problem with the jeans and button down shirt, and if you do, you are a hipster loser that goes drinking too often so go away, however I do want to be able to dress better than the competition around here. Sadly, that shopping trip hasn't happened yet, so my gear was limited to my standard brown shoes, jeans, and JBoss or...wow that's an embarassing slip. Some kind of overpriced button down shirt with the word "Boss" in the brand name that I had to buy because I couldn't find any other shirts that fit. Anyway.
In the beginning of the night it was just me, two other dudes, and her. I began to wonder if she is one of those girls who is an expert at just sort of keeping guys in orbit around her, like I always suspected Laura was. I steeled myself for whatever possible outcome.
The night began at some mexican-ish bar called Pesos which is awesome at something according to someone to recently raved about them to me whose identity I can't recall. Ten people were coming and Birthday Girl had apparently decided not to make a reservation. This turned out to be a problem, since there is only like one table configuration they have that can support 10 people, so we were stuck in booths. This became a major element throughout the night, as we started in the middle booth, then accepted an offer to move to the both on the end so they could add a table, and then were told we were a fire hazard and got moved to the both on the other end. On the bright side, most of the eventual 10-ish people that showed up were girls, so that was pleasant. One of them was a cool russian chick who brought birthday girl some roses.
By the time we got to booth number 3 most of the people were drunk. Girls were climbing in and out of the booth, etc. Birthday girl was super excited that everyone was there. Enter this guy Kevin. I know. I don't normally use names of people in seattle, but more on that later. Kevin is this guy who I thought was Birthday Girl's boyfriend. He's not. Found out later that he has a girlfriend, but its reasonably clear that he wants Birthday Girl. Don't we all.
I don't know of a nice way to say this, so, drunk people are morons. We'd been there for hours, and everybody was trying to leave one at a time, getting the poor waitress to cordon off their drinks into individual bills over and over again. I had assumed that we'd be doing that thing where everyone chips in for the birthday girl, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen. Who would pay for her unnecessarily many shots of petrone? Once a critical mass of people had invidiually paid their tab fraction, it was mostly girls left on the tab, so I intercepted the waitress with my card. Party Rules say when you're out with a bunch of girls, you pay. So I used my operations card, instead of my food card, figuring this counted as sort of an adventure. Two of the girls got all happy. One gave me a kiss on the cheek (yessssss). Then Birthday Girl got super excited and jumped up. I thought, you know, based on her trajectory, that she was going for a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but instead she kissed me right on the lips, which caught me off guard in front of everyone. I don't like, or what to be one of, those guys that try to get girls by tossing money around, especially since I don't really have any, but I have no qualms about exploiting the relative differences in our valuations of discretionary income by paying for drinks at a bar. The bill was obscene, even for four people. I make sure the waitress got plenty more than a 20% tip. Call it hazard pay.
Most of the people went home. Me, Birthday Girl, 'Bb9 (who I have no interest in but through whom I met Birthday Girl) and the cool Russian chick who was carrying the flowers she brought. Birthday Girl was hammered. I watched the other two girls hold her up as we made our only bar change of the night, leaving the crowded scene at the mexican-ish restaurant for the empty-but-in-a-cool-way vibe of the theatre bar that 'BB9 loves to go to. Halfway there, everything changed. Birthday girl realized she didn't have her camera. We stopped on the sidewalk and she looked through everything. It was gone.
I offered to go back to Peso's and look for it while they continued on to the theatre bar, knowing full well that my chances of success were slim. I had glanced the last two tables over pretty well and would have seen a camera. I went back. I checked. Asked some guys who were now filling out one of the booths. No luck.
At the theatre bar, Birthday Girl was ridiculously upset. Apparently, that had been an extremely espensive camera that she had just purchased, and she was about to leave for a trip to south america in a few days. Not only was the price of the camera relative to her income a crushing loss, but she was beating herself up over it. Also, Kevin was there. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was just go home. This is a problem, because she lives in the suburbs, and she was going to drive herself home. We tried to convince her to stay but she booked it out of there while most of us looked on in shock. Kevin ran after her.
I wrestled with the conundrum of doing the right thing. It wasn't exactly my place to steal the keys of someone I barely knew. Especially since, if anyone ever tried to do that to me, I would come very near killing them (you don't have do be a judo master in order to trip someone that can barely walk straight on their own). Still, it wouldn't do so just this there and let her drive. I've seriously never had this problem before. None of my friends have ever been so irrational. Then I decided--fuck doing the right thing--I like Seattle better with Birthday Girl in it, not dead, and not jailed for DUI. I paid my tab at the theatre bar and headed out in search of Birthday Girl and Kevin, having only a rough idea where they went. BB9 went back to Peso's too look for the camera again, and the cool russian chick just went home. My my perspective, that left just me, Kevin, and a very drunk girl in play.
I headed out from the bar, hoping I'd run into them. I saw shadows straight ahead. As I neared I could tell it was them, and switched to the soundless roll-step I learned way back in marching band; if there was any intelligence to be gained in the next five seconds, like if they were making out, you know, deal me in. They weren't making out. Birthday Girl was either crying or freaking out. Kevin was going what every normal person would do. I hung out near them, letting this other guy take center stage, and we eventually convinced her to go back to the bar for a while. The next twenty minutes would be spent hearing her insist over and over again that she was totally fine to drive. I don't know if you've noticed this, but people who are actually ok to drive after a night out never insist loudly about it. Thats how you know. The more they insist, the more drunk they are. If they just give you a simple "fuck off, I've had 4 drinks in 4 hours," you know their ok.
Just outside the bar...damn I forget what he said, but Kevin gave me some kind of hostile command about letting her drive home. Given that we were both clearly interested in this girl, I wasn't surprised by a shot across the bow, but I was momentarily shocked that he was siding with a course of action that could easily end with Birthday Girl driving into the lake. Damn. This story would be so much better if I could remember his exact words. Ce la vie. Anyway, I didn't get a chance to reply, or even stare for long, because Birthday Girl jumped in and said something.
The next stage of the night was the nightmare planning problem. We had 1 drunk girl and her car that both needed to be transported into the suburbs. It was a pretty simple planning problem, really. Only a few elements...you don't even need a computer to solve it. Here's the catch, though: all possible plans had to be approved by an irrational drunk girl who just wants to go home. The original plan was for her to stay over at BB9's place. That was out. Waiting in the bar until she was sober enough to drive: that was also rejected. Even if it wasn't, that would have been made more complicated by the fact that she was regularly asserting her alleged sobriety with slurred words. There was also this issue with me and Kevin clearly not trusting either other. For some reason, I remember not expecting him to make a move, but he seemed concerned I was going to take advantage of her, which I think revealed his own intentions. It was like the united states verses russian in our own little cold war. I suggested we take a walk in the park until she sobered up. That got rejected. Birthday Girl insisted many times that she would just sit in her car until she was good to go. I said that I or we would sit in the car with her; that got rejected. Her taking a taxi home was out of the question, and I didn't have cash on hand to just hand the cabbie--would have had to have been some bullshit with the credit card. I offered to drive her car home and then cab it back to seattle, and even texted BB9 for the number of a taxi company that handled that area. That seemed like the best solution to me; I would get her home, she would get to go home with her car, and but not spending the night my motives in this whole business wouldn't be tainted, except probably in Kevin's eyes, who I assume was assuming I would cancel the cab when I got there and try to take advantage of her.
Then came the second plot twist of the night. Kevin just gave up, and said ok drive home. I didn't say anything, other than something about walking to her car, knowing damn well that whatever happened I wasn't going to let her drive. Something didn't feel right about the way he just gave up like that, especially if I was going to walk her home. It was like in chess when you ask yourself why your opponent just sacrificed a knight for apparently no reason. I was too focused on Birthday Girl's safety to think about it.
So we left the bar. I was glad that I was finally alone with her, but also sad because I realized that she would probably hate me for what I was about to do, and preventing her death/DUI was probably about to cost whatever chance I had of dating her. Still, Party Rules are Party Rules. We pressed on.
She swore a lot and used slurs that I normally, in my personal brand of anti-policial correctness, don't find offensive. We got to her car and she started fumbling for her keys. My battle plan was to wait for her to try to open the car door with them, and then grab them like James Bond and strongly insist that I was driving. I had noticed she'd be getting at least moderately agreeable when you forced it on her hard enough. I have the number for the taxi company; the plan was ready.
She couldn't find her keys.
She dumped her purse out, slamming each item individually onto the trunk of her car, breaking some of them. After her first pass through her purse I put everything back while she went through the duffel bag with her work clothes in it. She was about to repeat the slamming routine with her purse when I told her I'd do it. No keys.
She started to freak out. I calmed her down. Then in a sudden twist she apologized profusely for embarrassed me in the restaurant by kissing me, which was interesting since I wasn't aware of being embarrassed at all. I didn't know if she was fishing for reassurance, but I knew what I was going to do about it either way. I grabbed the back of her head, right down at the neck, and turned her towards me and kissed her on the lips. I kept it brief, and pulled away after only a few kisses. In hindsight, I probably should have just continued making out with her right there in the street. Anything to give her liver time to process that ethanol. Instead, our attention turned back to the keys.
Suddenly, I pretty sure I knew exactly where her keys were, and I was pretty damn sure I knew why Kevin just let her go; he knew she wouldn't be able to drive. I don't know if he boosted her keys himself, or if she actually left them. I really doubt the latter. Whatever the case, it was an excellent play. In fact, it was badass. He could let her go like that because he knew she'd be coming back. Right around then is when, in my head, he ceased to be Kevin and instead became known to me only as K-Dawg. I was soundly beaten. It took a few minutes to go through the process of "oh, where could the keys be" and who might have them, and when did she last have them. I suggested she text Kevin.
He was waiting outside, smoking, when we got back to the theatre bar. The first thing he said was to look directly at me and say something like "So she's going to drive home now?" like he was making a threat. The hell she was; she was still walking and talking drunk and I knew which pocket he kept his little knife blade in. Again, though, I didn't get a chance to reply, which probably would have been more of a stare anyway. Birthday girl got her keys back, and I kept my distance. Figured I'd let him take his best shot. Then he left. Birthday girl and I walked back to her car. Then I came up with my last move. I had previously offered to give her my camera, which wasn't as fancy as hers, but at least did take pictures. I told her that if she walked with me to my place, and took the camera, I would walk her back here and let her drive. It was my best delay tactic, I mean other than sitting on the hood of her car and trying to make out with her again. She agreed and we headed for my place.
On the way we stopped in this sort of corner side street. It was the kind of out of the way place that, if my life was an FPS, you would likely find health and chaingun ammo there. She had brought up my dancing again, and for some reason kept focusing on merengue, which is like the one I knew the least. So I showed her a few merengue steps right there on the sidewalk. It was pretty difficult since the tequila was making her an extra shy dancer.
We continued walking home. Most of her anger was now directed inward, not just a frustration over the incredible loss, but at what she thought was her sheer stupidity for losing it. In my opinion, when you have ten drunk people switching between three inadequately sized booths, things like lost cameras happen (I'm personally just glad none of us guys got a heel in the testicle). She wouldn't hear it. She said she was a fuckup. Then I told her what a fuckup was. I described to her a caricature of the kinds of guys the girls I fall in love with usually end up with. I said a fuckup is a guy who lives which his parents (unless he's european--then its cool, BTW), doesn't have a job, never finished school, and thinks that pulling out is an acceptable method of birth control. She beamed at me when I said that, and stopped chiding herself to much.
When we reached my place, I made her waffles and showed her my cam. No interest. Didn't have the screen on the front for when girls take pictures of themselves. I had a picture of me and Firefly Girl on it anyway, as well as some ancient salsa lesson videos that I felt I should keep since I paid for them, so I gave up. Though I was still willing to walk her back to her car, I converted the futon in my living room to bed mode while she finished the waffles and she just crawled onto it. I tucked her in with some closet blankets and made myself some tea.
The next morning I woke up early and couldn't sleep. We played around with some music; me on guitar with her doing vocals. Sung through some of her favorite songs. She has an amazing voice. She's actually amazing in various other ways, but they don't contribute to this story.
We parted company halfway to her car. She brought up the kissing thing again and apologized again, so I kissed her again. Then we went our separate ways and I ran to make it to my morning meeting in time.
We've kissed multiple times and I still don't know if she's interested at all; it seems like there is something holding her back, but I can't read what. I've had this feeling before; I guess its just part of the game. Also she's gone back to being flaky. Also she's like leaving in a few days. All I can do is play my best hand and hope for the best.
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