Monday, October 12, 2009

Classy Man Awards for a Random Portland Weekend…

This weekend we saw the toast of fine men in the Portland area. I’ll share some stories of what‘s available out there for all you lovely ladies:

Honorable Mention: All the men at Space Room. From the dude who bought every girl with two legs a drink (thanks buddy)… to the random North Salem High Alum who looked at the ring on my right hand and then said, “Wait, which one is your wedding finger, are you married?”… to the guy who wouldn’t let me out of the booth at the next bar until I gave him my phone number… to the guy who had a girlfriend, but told me, “If I didn’t, DAMN!” Yea, that’s what he said and then he gave me a hug goodbye that totally creeped me out AND came to the next bar with us. Okay, he was actually nice, but, a 30 second hug for a girl you just met WHEN you already have a girlfriend…uh, too long. You all were somewhat cute and maybe just not so classy. Good job men. And Seth, your bar is fun!

Bronze Medal: My newly married friend Court recognizes a guy at Blitz Ladd on Saturday night. They piece together that he is the friend of a guy she dated (very briefly) almost five years ago. This guy introduces his girlfriend as his girlfriend, but then, apparently too drunk to remember, introduces her again as his future wife. The girl starts shrieking, “Oh my Godddddd, that’s the first time you’ve ever called me that!” and continues to be ecstatic. Guy asks Court if she still works at Victoria’s Secret, she says no…she hasn’t for YEARS. I walk up, he asks me if I work there. I say no. He states, “Well, you could be a Victoria's Secret model,” all the while making his hands air draw the hourglass shape of a girl. Creepy. Luckily Creepy’s girlfriend is down at the other end of the shuffleboard table. Then, creepy guy decides to call Court’s ’very brief ex beau’ on his cell phone to let him know we’re there. “Dude, guess who is standing next to me right now man!!!” I’m surprised he didn’t hand Court the phone. Classy, classy, classy.

Silver Medal: Same night, different man…this one a good friend of mine who has drunk texted me for four years and often lets me know how much “I f‘ing love you“ and “you rock Chait” via these text messages. How a guy can have a huge crush on a girl he still calls by her last name is foreign to me. Anyway. We arrive at Blitz not knowing he’s there, but he IS there with the Girl He Doesn’t Really Like but can’t figure out how to dump for good. I know this because we go out to eat once or twice a month and catch up on all the gossip in our lives. So, I am very careful not to do much more than say hello, even though he’s a good friend. Well, there’s two shuffleboard tables, and Good Friend and I end up on the same end. This doesn’t serve Girl He Doesn’t Really Like very well and she starts getting mad. Good friend and I create a pretend wall and don’t even look at each other while we’re talking. “Sorry you’re in the dog house bud,” I say while shooting a puck down the board. “Dude, it’s not your fault,” Good Friend says back. Well, Creepy Guy is still creeping Court out, I’m slowly starting to feel like The Other Woman as Girl He Doesn’t Really Like keeps getting angrier, though I have never done a thing to compromise their relationship, so we decide to leave. I get a text (or twenty, but who’s counting) about an hour later. “I got punched in the eye.” “Oh no, what happened,” I reply. “Told the GF I loved you and got punched.” “Bud, you may want to wait until sober to have such discussions and maybe go easy.” “Yeah, my bad. But the punch hurt.” Really, I love this guy (just not in that way) and hesitated to tell this story, but, come on buddy…you soooo deserved to get punched.

Gold Medal: Back to Space Room. There is a guy there in an argyle sweater that is way too short, pants with bunchy ankles, and Vans. I comment that his outfit is a little off…turns out the dude I am talking to is his buddy. “Oh, he just got back from Argentina, that’s why he’s dressed that way. He’s really cool though.” Umm, no…and here is proof: My girlfriend Gwyn recognizes him. So, she walks up to him and says, “You look really familiar. I think I know you from somewhere.” His reply…”Yeah, you look like my type. Did we f**k?!” She quickly realizes (maybe from the dumbass comment) who this idiot is…he was wasted downtown once and tried following our girlfriend into her condo and then tried making out with her. Some friends grabbed him and threw him out into a cab. Cooper, you are one lame ass Gold Medal winner.

Maybe next weekend will be better.

1 comment:

People in the Sun said...

Hey, no one said I could be a Victoria's Secret model, so you obviously had a better weekend than I did.