In the Meantime

I just have one of those faces.

That's the only explanation that I have for it. Or perhaps I subconsciously give off this "confess your crimes to me" vibe. Whatever it is, people seem to open up to me.

Case in point. A few weeks ago, I went to a Brewers game with a few friends from work. After seven innings of underwhelming Brewers offense (fucking Glendon Rusch was out-pitching our best hitters...), we retreated to the Metavante Club. Hell, if we have to watch a crappy game, we might as well do it in style. There, I met a co-worker's daughter, a rather attractive and flirty young lady who seemed to take an interest in yours truly. Not being one to offend, I started talking with this young lady, who we will refer to as A.

After the game (how the hell do the Milwaukee Brewers lose 2 out of 3 games at home to the Colorado freaking Rockies, huh?), we were booted from Metavante and headed downstairs to Fridays. A and I continued talking at the bar. I will spare you the details of the conversation, but let's just say that things seemed to be going well. At least things were going well until a wall of button-down striped shirt walked up. This guy, Captain Cockblock, decided that he wanted in on the conversation. This guy looked like he came straight off the Water Street assembly line: the aforementioned white-striped button down, the "I was an athlete in high school but now I'm just big and overweight" physique, the sixth grade vocabulary, the whole nine yards. He was painfully average.

Anyway, I'm not the kind of guy that's going to get all confrontational about a situation like this, especially for a girl I just met. If they want to talk, fine. I will direct my attention elsewhere. It didn't take me long to find something to keep me occupied. When Captain Cockblock sauntered his Cro-mag ass over to where A and I were standing, he left a rather pretty young lady standing alone at the end of the bar. I'm sure you're seeing where this is headed.

I started chatting with this other girl, who we will call C. C and I talked for well over an hour. Well, let me rephrase that. C talked to me for well over an hour. I honestly didn't say a whole hell of a lot during that time. I just stood there while she poured her heart out to me. Apparently, C had moved to Milwaukee a little over a year ago. She spent the previous four years in Chicago, and fled north to Milwaukee after a long term relationship went sour. Her last year was spent with a new fella here in Milwaukee.

Unfortunately for her, there were some major issues with this chap. He was in some sort of depression-like funk that made him unbearable to be around. This funk also killed any desire he had to have sex with C. Like I said, I just have one of those faces. People tell me things like this.

Anyway, this had obviously become an issue for C. She moved out of their apartment and was crashing on a friend's couch. During the course of her story, C apologized to me half a dozen times for rambling on and on about her problems. Each time, I told her that she had no reason to apologize and that I understood what it was like to be in a relationship with "issues". You just have to talk about it. C agreed and said that she didn't have many friends in Milwaukee that weren't friends with her (ex?)-boyfriend. The whole shared friends thing can make a bad situation even worse when a relationship goes down the shitter. Even Captain Cockblock, who was a "friend", wasn't someone she could talk to about this. Apparently, he was kind of a douchebag (shocking, I know) and not the kind of person that one would speak to about real problems.

C continued talking about her situation and how it affected her personally. Aside from the normal relationship drama bullshit that it caused, the whole situation was a huge blow to her emotionally. I could definitely see what she meant. Here is a very pretty girl whose boyfriend has no desire whatsoever to have sex with her. That's a huge blow to the self-esteem. I could imagine how that would screw with one's head. Then, she let this one fly...

C: "You know, I just want to get fucked."

I have never done a stereotypical Hollywood spit take before but when she said that, I almost let a mouthful of Captain and Coke spew all over the bar. Followed by...

C: "You're really cute."

Okay, at this point, I felt like I had wandered into a Penthouse Forum letter. Fridays was closing and the bar staff really wanted our group (the only people left) to get the hell out. We obliged, but not before I got C's number. I'm sure that this whole situation is a pile of hell on earth drama that I don't want to get involved with, but eh, you only live once.

The whole episode was pretty weird, especially for a Wednesday night. Crap like this happens to me sometimes, though. People open up to me for no discernible reason. There was also another time where a girl told me that she recently went to the gynecologist because she thought she had HPV. Turns out it was just razor burn from shaving. How the hell do I always meet these people?

I like said, I guess I just have one of those faces.