Saturday, February 25, 2006

I (really!) Do

When getting ready to go out with Pretty Polly last night, I expected we'd have a few drinks, have some girl talk, maybe meet some boys, and possibly kiss them.

I did not expect us to end up at a wedding.

I swear, all of the following is true, even though remembering it and writing about it feels surreal.

When I met up with Polly, it was close to 11:00pm and she had already been drinking with other friends, so I had some catching up to do. No problem. I downed a few cocktails, we saw the bar we were in had no Prospects, so we moved on to the next place.

Polly's friends wanted to get dessert, so we stopped at a bar/cafe. At a table near us, I spotted a beautiful sight: eight people, six of them men. I pointed this out to Polly and she said they looked a bit young, around 23. I agreed, but guessed their age to be more around 25 (which is doable). We made a bet on it (loser bought winner's drink) and I said,

"You know there's only one way to solve this. You're going to have to ask them."

Polly went over and started talking to them. The guys were French, all of them 26 (I won the bet). Of the two girls, one of them was a guy's sister, which improved our odds even more. Polly conversed with them for quite a while. I would have gone over and introduced myself, too, but the tables were set close together, so logistics made it impossible. Instead, I waved hello to them.

Polly told the French guys the next bar we were going to and encouraged them to join us later. Go Polly!

While this was a nice way to kick of the evening, I knew we could and would do better.

When we got to our next destination, we were dismayed to see a line of people waiting to get into the bar. What was going on? We passed the crowd and all of a sudden Polly shrieked, spotting an old actor friend.

"Actor Friend! What are you doing here?!"

He was visiting from the west coast and attending a friend's wedding. The wedding was that evening. It would take place in the back room of the bar that we were waiting to get into.

Actor Friend had a plus one and could get one of us in, but was worried about having a second guest. Polly and I weren't worried.

The groom walked by and I congratulated him on his impending nuptials. Actor Friend asked if he could bring an extra guest, the groom said sure, and that non-problem was solved.

We finally got inside the bar, which was packed and buzzing with an immense festive energy. If you didn't know a wedding was about to take place you could have sworn it was New Year's Eve.

There were hot guys galore. We slowly squeezed past people as we tried to get to the back room. Polly and I were giddy. We started talking to a trio of cute Dutch guys, but had to keep moving. A super-tall, super-cute redhead and I smiled at each other as he headed out of the bar.

"You should come with us!" I said, as we passed each other.

We both turned around and he smiled again. I waved for him to come back. The crowd kept us moving in opposite directions.

We reached the back room. It was wedding time!

A friend of the groom's performed the ceremony, which took place on a small stage. It was a wedding between these two absolutely adorable hipsters and included a "vow off". Hilarious. There was a moment during the real vows when I think everyone in the room got teary. It was a bizarre and beautiful event.

But it gets even stranger. Somehow in all the shuffle, I ended up near the stage. The bride threw the bouquet. I caught it.

That's right. I caught a bouquet at a wedding in a bar for two people I never met before in my life.

Then there was karaoke. The guy who performed the wedding was emcee and to kick things off, he sang Billy Idol's "White Wedding". Of course!

I put in a song and went to find Polly. In my search, I ran into a couple of the French guys from the cafe. I talked to them for a minute, but they had a snotty attitude and I grew bored faster than you can say 'escargot'. I started a conversation with a hot guy who helped film the wedding, but his breath was so bad, I couldn't stay near him long. I introduced him to Polly and she was horrified by his breath, too, but she managed to ply him with gum. Not sure how (or if) she made out with him.

I was having a great time, enjoying the happy vibes. I introduced myself to the bride, congratulated her, laughed about catching the bouquet, and promised to invite her to my wedding.

It was sometime during a rendition of George Michael's "Faith" that I ended up standing next to a tall, gorgeous guy, dressed in black, who looked like a brunette, male version of Uma Thurman. I said something about the song to Boy Uma and he said something back, but it didn't spark a conversation. I decided I'd stay where I was and see if he'd check me out and start talking to me again.

He did.

Banter banter banter and we're making out. Somebody singing Simple Minds' "(Don't You) Forget About Me" and it feels like we're in an 80's movie.

Boy Uma's friend came over and gushed about what a gentleman Boy Uma is.

"He is such a great guy." Boy Uma's friend reiterated.

"Is Dolly still here?" asked the emcee, from the stage.

I waved my bouquet in the air and made my way up there. I channeled my best Deborah Harry for Blondie's "Call Me" and had my little rock star moment.

Back to Boy Uma. More kissing and then we're at the bar. Boy Uma bought me a drink, more kissing at the bar, he told me about being an architect, which I found really sexy for some reason, and yet more kissing.

Then he mentioned something about a girlfriend. It's a long distance thing and she knows he fools around with other girls. I told him I have things going on with other guys. I was worried he was going to go into guilt mode, but he probably found it hard to talk about his girlfriend with my tongue in his mouth.

It was time to go. He walked me outside to get a taxi. It turns out he lives less than a mile away from me. Why not share a cab? Why not indeed.

Two stops, we told the driver.

In the cab, we were, of course, kissing some more. There was no mention of him going home with me.

Then he put his hand down my pants.

Let me tell you, when you are high on a stranger's wedding, buzzed from half a dozen drinks, and a hot guy is fingering you in the back of a taxi, it's hard to think straight.

There was only one stop.

I may have mentioned this before, but it can be really tough to get me off when I've been drinking. It takes some serious perseverance. Boy Uma rose to the challenge (no, not that way; he kind of had whisky dick) and he succeeded. We spent the next four hours fooling around and did manage to have sex a few times, though he kept getting soft. Which was too bad for him, but he took care of me many times over. Boy Uma was truly amazing with his hands.

We had a good, natural chemistry, and he would have made a decent fuck buddy, I think (especially since he lives so close by). At the same time, I have a feeling he's still burdened by the girlfriend thing, so I didn't give him my number or email when he left.

I passed out, happy to have the bed to myself. Didn't wake up until after noon.

My Chinese food's here and I'm starving. I think my appetite is justified...

29 comments:

Anonymous said...

You are fucking amazing. I've been following your blog for a little bit now and as denial is the first human response, I could not believe this stuff was for real. My next reaction was of disgust. But after some introspection, I realized that I was projecting. Why the hell not do what you do? you are an incredibly smart, vivacious woman who's living it up in the big city and is just sampling life's possibilities. Who can argue with that? I realized if I were capable of the same antics, I would engage in same!

One question as a PUA in training: how the hell do you get a girl to kiss you so quickly? what are these guys saying to you that you wind up making out with them (in what seems like, according to your blog, microseconds)?

-Your Fan

Anonymous said...

Wow, "sex and the city" meets the "wedding crashers". ;)

"I said something about the song to Boy Uma"... and it was "numa numa".

Bama Girl said...

You got him to leave your bed so you could sleep in peace. Love it.

Anonymous said...

Re: see beginning on the 14th entry in comments from 2006-02-23.

I expected more from you than hiding behind a male who openly states that “especially if you're like me and intend to live forever.” Nobody lives forever, but a lot of us live in reality. Reading your blog, I thought you were a sensible lady, even if, as you state, “I am only in my mid-20's.” You do not give the impression that you can not standup and be counted on your own, even if you had a long Friday night/Saturday morning. Thank you though, I did understand your comment today though of “doable.” Yes, 23 yo to 26 yo is doable for you.

Concerning Rich’s mathematical miscalculation one is not limiting their odds if one uses Rich’s fifteen year rule. In 1960, there were 3 billion people on planet Earth. In 2000, 6 billion. There are currently 3 billion people my age (44) or PUA Dave’s age (42) or younger. Considering approximately forty-five years since 1960, and using Rich’s formula of fifteen year intervals, that places an additional 1 billion people on Earth for each fifteen year group. Considering a global life expectancy of approximately sixty years, that would give you a fishing pool of half the world’s population, depending upon which way you swing. Assume, heterosexuals, homosexuals, males and females are equally divided on Earth, therefore you have seven hundred and fifty million sex partners to choose from. Assume one sex partner a day. That is 2,054,795.5 years of different partners or even dates. Even live forever Rich is going to bored with sex after that many years. Now I have generalized the numbers, if we spent the time to calculate the actual numbers based upon the art of doubling, your choice of sex partners within seven years either way would be greater (yes, I believe seven years + or - is the magic number. It may be as higher as or lower, as much as 10 years depending upon where you are in life).

Dolly, as a man probably old enough to be your father, and one that spent a great many years dating (no the mother of my children is no longer a part of my daily life, and what is up with this soul mate stuff?), before I would latch comfortably onto the protection of LF Rich, consider the absolute possibility that he is not only as PUA, but an old pervert. I propose that we refer to him as OP Rich, as only an old pervert would want to seduce a twenty-something girl, rather than relish, and I do not mean to be disrespectful, but a women with experience. Oh by the way, I do not believe in the MILF culture, as experience requires experience.

I have reached the glorious age of 44. I am neither here nor there. Currently, according to familiar statistics, I have not reached middle age. That comes at 46, but hardly can I say that I am youthful. My temples have grayed, although I attempt to hide it behind an extreme mass of very full and long hair, and my neatly trimmed beard is now white, not gray, white. Odd, as I still see a seventeen year old male when I look quickly in the mirror. I try not to focus, as that strains my eyes. Mon Dieu, it is a bitch getting older.

What I do know is enjoy your youth. Do not let people rob you of youthful pleasures with other youths. There is plenty of time to be old. Unfortunately, we live way beyond the useful existence of our bodies, so enjoy young while you are young. When you get old, enjoy old. I did and do.

-- said...

I can barely remember anything -- and I LOST MY PHONE!! I don't have your #. Call me!

Anonymous said...

i didn't think it was possible for someone to be such a buzzkill at 44.

Rich said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Rich said...

call me an old pervert will you?
hey DQ Anon (for Don Quixote, you self-righteous windmill-jouster you), try to read the following in as stuffed-up an old English accent as you can muster (failing that go for French)

"YOU SIR have offended not only my honour with your ad hominem attacks but the honour of my lady-friend Dolly..."

Now slap yourself really hard with a velvet glove and drop it on the ground. I'd do it for you but you're 44 and pbly financially stable enough to buy yourself a decent pair...

"I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL, PISTOLS OR SABRES, AT DAWN OR DUSK, CHOOSE, YOU OLD SCALLYWAG!!!"

While waiting for a reply, I may as well carve you up with wit...*

*I shortened this post so as not to take up big fat space on poor Dolly's blog, read mine instead for my biting repartee.

darius451 said...

Dolly, Actually I'm glad someone is commenting on age. I recently had a PU that I wasn't able to close, and the girl claimed age as the reason. In you and your lovely blog readers opinions, is age that big of issue when it comes to guys? I am 26, and the girl was 20. Thanks

BG said...

I think if you spark enough attaction girls will lie about their age to get with you.

Older chicks will say they're younger, younger chicks will say they're older (gotta watch out with the latter).


I think Dolly will agree to this.

Rich said...

"Odd, as I still see a seventeen year old male when I look quickly in the mirror."

see? that's how 'old' this man is really behaving.

Seriously, most of us are more or less the same people regardless of how much time has passed us by. I really don't see why we have to discriminate based on age.

NotCarrie said...

I need to go to more weddings!

Anonymous said...

nice. now what's the word on TV tyler?

Dolly said...

Woaaaahh, there.

I don't want to get too involved in this debate on age, but I will say two things. First off, I have a major pet peeve about anyone (male or female) lying about their age. Second of all, while I have an age range that has typically worked for me, I would consider dating someone outside that range if I had a special connection with them. I have known younger men who acted wise beyond their years and older men who acted like little boys, so age is not necessarily an indicator of maturity or intelligence. I think this whole debate has been blown out of proportion.

Anyway...

Anonymous 1,
Thanks for your honest feedback. I don't know how I kiss guys so quickly. A lot of it is body language and being attracted to them from the get go.

Bama girl,
He didn't want to spend the night, either. I didn't shoo him away.

NotCarrie,
I think it helps if the wedding is full of cool, cute, young people and is held at a bar. But that upbeat atmosphere is unbeatable!

Anonymous 5:06pm,
I'll update about TV Tyler and all the others soon...

Eurosabr03 said...

Oddly, the natural's problem of "I don't know how I do what I do" seems to hold for Dolly as well. Or not so oddly. Perhaps UmaGuy can tell us how he does what he does.

Dolly, did you debrief him at all? It's Standard Operating Procedure for PUAs/Playettes, after all...

Larissa said...

only you. love it!

Damn It Anyway said...

I'm thinking of starting the Dolly Quote Of The Week" website.
This will be the first quote of the week.

"Let me tell you, when you are high on a stranger's wedding, buzzed from half a dozen drinks, and a hot guy is fingering you in the back of a taxi, it's hard to think straight."

Psyneh said...

amazing.. loved your field rapport :D

NotMiranda said...

Awesome wedding! (and you continue to amaze me) : )

Dolly said...

Euro,

I did debrief him, but you and I have very different definitions of "debriefing". ;)

It's not a common practice of mine, because I'm not looking to perfect some kind of formula of being able to get any man in my bed. I like the serendipidous nature of these events. I think I would be more useful to me to debrief a guy who I went out with once or twice, who then lost interest, to see if I inadvertantly said or did something off-putting. I mean, it's all well and good to say it's his loss, but I know women can put out needy or clingy vibes and I'd like to know I'm not doing that.

pawlr said...

I think what men respond to often for LTRs is a calm feminine presence that is feminine but not wildly oscillating. Its a scary thought, I know, but I think basically they're looking for the masculine aspects of their mother. Guys go to therapy for this stuff, you might as well exploit it ;)

Eurosabr03 said...

You have the magic formula: you're hot. Only a guy who's gay, in an exclusive relationship, thinks you're too young, or is medically unsound is going to refuse you. Errors & Omissions excepted. "Game" for you means getting them to come back and invest the time & emotional effort in the other things besides sex that make a re-la-tion-ship (ack, I said it!) worthwhile from your point of view. So while PUAs debrief with "What was the tipping point in your decision to sleep with me?" yours would be different, related to your different goal. Of course.

CoatMan said...

Good random wedding crash! And, for the record, a hearty appetite is always justified.

Dolly said...

Pawlr,
I'm not so sure I agree with the calm femine presence thing, because I have seen so many guys go for the fucked up girl. Lots seem to have the bird-with-the-broken-wing syndrome. However, I'm past the point of thinking how I may not be right for a man; I've switched it around and now it's all about whether he's right for me.

pawlr said...

Good for you! Nice to see a healthy attitude in a female, for sure. That "bird-with-a-broken wing syndrome" is either a "hero complex" or a "pygmalion" one. I agree, lots of guys have it. They get off on it, its an ego thing.

Anonymous said...

I can only hope I meet you some day, preferably in a bar with a wedding. :-)

jjcinders said...

i have been reading your blog for a while now dolly and of all your stories this is one of my favourites. My best night ever ony included making out with 3 guys and i felt like female PUA central. I can completely relate to this sort of night that crazily escalates. Your quote on being fingered in the back of a cab will go down in history as one my fave honest, lovable, sassy girl quotes.

Boomerfartz! said...

"broken wing"?
Yah, I've spent years trying to figure that one out. Seems I'm a "wing repairer", or thought I wuz.
Fact is, you can't... repair that is, but you can offer aid and comfort only to end up getting either crapped on or treated like a "brother" or "good friend".

It's weird cos I never think in terms of "ego" but maybe there is something to this cos a weak ego might drive some to be attracted to these types.

I've learned though that you shouldn't let the same dog bite you twice. When you do you get what you get, and that's usually a kick in the arse... eventually.

Those with broken wings tend to secretly despise the kindness of the opposite sex and think of it as a weakness... JMHO.

Best thing you can do is just go with the flow and look for someone whose issues do NOT include the "broken wing". Sad to say, that's pretty irredeemable unless caught at an early age, buy someone with some smarts and a good "shrink"...

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Boomer

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