Tuesday, March 20, 2012

How NOT to Get a Girl's Number

I told my friend Lindsey I would blog about this story, because it’s so funny and one of those moments where you think, “dude, really?”  Since I’m 30 and not married, I have my fair share of strange dating/guy stories (like the guy who told me I “eat good for a skinny girl,” for example), but what happened to Lindsey has thankfully never happened to me.
                So we went out for drinks on St. Patrick’s Day Saturday night.  We went a little early because we knew it would be really crowded.  We had a bit of a dilemma, both of us loving basketball but not loving insane crowds, so we sacrificed the basketball in order to be somewhere we could sit down and have an actual conversation.  We were having quite a lovely time with our (very) strong drinks and catching up on life, when Lindsey got up from her seat.
                Mistake number one. 
                Because this guy came and sat right across from me.  I told him I was with a friend who would be coming back, hoping he would get the message that he was interrupting girl time (and I love my girl time) and leave, but he was pretty drunk, so no such luck.  Lindsey came back, and he stayed and tried to chat us up.  His friend Reggie came and sat thisclosetome.  Isaac (the first guy) clearly had his eye on Lindsey.  I was all over some bored body language, again hoping he would get the hint and leave.  But drunkenness and male ego won out.  Fun fact I learned in law school—men tend to mistake women’s politeness as actual interest.  Yeah no.  We were both trying to think of an excuse that would get us out of there without obviously lying, but we came up short. 
                When we did finally leave, Isaac asked for Lindsey’s number.  She told him, no, she doesn’t really give her number out to guys in bars.  A legitimate reason, and MOST guys would’ve said ok and either taken it as a rejection and been on their way or offered to give out their own number.
                This is what Isaac did instead.
                He argued.
                He told her she was lying.  He asked for the reason why she didn’t want to give him her number.   He told us we couldn’t possibly be telling the truth because we were out at a bar, so obviously we wanted to get hit on.  And he kept arguing.  I tried to be firm, but he wouldn’t let up.  Finally I got a little sarcastic and he gave in.
                I felt a little bad (only a little), but apparently by the time you’re 30, you stop caring about being polite and friendly to random guys in bars, hence why he asked for Lindsey’s number and not mine.  Although I did have a ready-made reason to tell him no (I’m taken!) had he asked.
               A couple of lessons for the fellas on this one:
    1.       As shocking as it may seem, some girls do go to bars for the sole purpose of having a drink or two and just talking.  Also, if you’re looking for some action, the sober girls in jeans are probably not your best bet.
    2.       Arguing with a girl over whether she should give you her number is not actually going to work on anyone who’s emotionally healthy.  In fact, trying to get a girl to do anything by arguing with her and telling her she’s lying is not the best strategy.

Through this encounter, however, Lindsey and I learned that the platypus is venomous via a spur on a hind foot.  True story. 


Monday, March 19, 2012

Kendall Marshall's Wrist

A week or so ago, Time Magazine published an online article arguing that for the sake of basketball in the state of North Carolina, Duke and UNC should root for each other in games against out-of-state opponents.
                Clearly, this writer is clueless.  Not being a North Carolina native himself, he does not understand just how seriously we take our college basketball here.  When he was in middle school and high school, his teachers probably did not wheel in a TV to watch the ACC Tournament daytime games.  He does not know that kids are allowed to stay up past their bedtimes for certain games in this state.
He does not know that the Carolina-Duke game means bragging rights until the next game.  Austin Rivers’ game-winning shot only mattered until the Tar Heels took Cameron and the Duke seniors lost their final home game.
And he does not understand that no self-respecting Carolina fan can cheer for Duke, no matter the circumstances.  I can cheer for any other ACC school, especially in the NCAA Tourney.  Mostly, I want the ACC to do well.  (I was thrilled that N.C. State beat Georgetown. I do not, however, want a rivalry matchup in the regional final because I might have a stroke, so I don’t really want to see them beat Kansas, unless UNC loses to Ohio, in which case, Go Pack!  College basketball math can get a little complicated.)
But you see, Duke and Carolina are not really from the same state at all.  Duke and UNC do not stand for the same things or represent the same values.  We don’t have shared childhood experiences.  Duke basketball isn’t about the state of North Carolina in any way.  A UNC fan cheering for Duke isn’t actually supporting his state.  He’s supporting New England boarding schools. 
Which brings me back to Kendall Marshall’s wrist.  Sort of.
March Madness is one of the best things in the world.  If I didn’t have to work, I could happily sit in front of the TV for 4 days straight during the first two rounds and watch basketball constantly.  But then the unthinkable happens. 
UNC’s point guard gets fouled.  Hard.  Apparently those Nebraskan Catholics play some dirty basketball.  He goes down, and you think, “oh please no!”  Then he comes back, and you think it’s going to be ok.  Except that it’s not.  Kendall Marshall has a broken wrist, and I almost cried.
For real.
I do know, somewhere in the logical recesses of my mind, that an emotionally charged reaction to the injury of a stranger is not normal.  But he’s not really a stranger.  He’s the guy that was going to lead the Heels to the Final Four. And Carolina loves its point guards.
So what happens the day after Kendall Marshall breaks his wrist? 
My pastor creates a Facebook page for Marshall’s wrist (http://www.facebook.com/KendallMarshallsWrist).
And all of Tar Heel Nation anxiously awaits news, and hopes and prays (yes, prays) that Marshall will somehow recover enough to be back on the court Friday by 7:45.  It’s not his dominant wrist, after all. 
And if not?
Well, at least we didn’t lose to Lehigh.