Friday, June 24, 2005

6/6/04 The Mating Game

Another Friday night has fallen on the city once again. Normally, I reserve my going out for Saturday nights, but I made an exception this time. A new concert venue has opened up downtown, and I must check it out. A local band made good has returned to Houston to entertain the hometown crowds. I got dressed in my normal club going garb and hit the streets.
The bus lets off at the edge of downtown’s eastern edge, a virtual no man’s land at this time of night. I walked the empty street in search of the new venue and found it An old garage has been converted into a nightclub. Yet again, Houston ingenuity strikes again. It’s amazing how a gas station can become a restaurant or a movie theater can become a video rental place or a bookstore. Waiting in line, I see I’m among the anxious local music fans hoping to get a glimpse inside.
After a bit of waiting, the doors fly open, and we filed in. Inside the venue it’s cavernous. Spotting a bar, I go directly there and wait around for the show to begin. Standing there, a woman got my attention. She’s tall, skinny, skimpy clothing. Offering to buy me a beer, she has unlocked the secret to picking up a man. The best way to a man’s heart is not through his stomach, but his liver.
Returning the favor for buying me a beer, I engage her in conversation. We make idol chitchat, but then she’s made her first fatal mistake. Her opening line was do you come here often? Oh, the agony of pickup lines. I didn’t hesitate to tell her that it was opening night. She looked like a poor woodland creature caught in the headlights of an oncoming 18-wheeler. Her only response is oh, before moving on to the next lone wolf.
She placates him with niceties, and plies him with beer. I hate to tell her that there’s not enough alcohol in the world to make her look good. Later on, the show started with local bands to warm up the crowd for the headliner. She’s kicking her duffel bag, er, purse across the floor in order to get a better glimpse of the band.
The girl’s had enough. I can tell by her enthusiasm in joining a small mosh pit made up of about three guys. It’s time for the headliner, but not many patrons in sight. She’s struck out with all the other guys, so she’s pinned her hopes on the lead singer recognizing her. I headed out into the street and wandered aimlessly, shaking off the frightening prospect of having actually gotten drunk enough to go home with her.
Once again , I've returned home empty handed. As always, there's next week. No telling where the night will take me then. One thing I will remember is to watch out for her, and women like her.

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