I remember the exact night this story occurred. It was September 8th of this past year. How do I know that, you ask? Well, I had spent my morning/day watching my favorite football team (the Tampa Bay Bucs) lose to the New York Jets in horrific, embarrassing, game-ending fashion.
Looking back on that day, it’s interesting to think there was a point in the season where I actually had hope for the Bucs’ season, but that’s neither here nor there for this post*.
Either way, as I went to the game with a couple of my friends and I’m no longer in grade school, we were not strictly in attendance to watch the football game. Tailgating started around 10:30 in the morning and seeing as how there were only four of us total, there wasn’t much to do aside from drink (and, occasionally, eat).
Of course, the game gets going and we don’t stop drinking. In fact, all the beer from the day is making us more aware of how rapidly ‘last call’ at MetLife Stadium is approaching, so there’s now a little urgency in each sip.
Once the game is over, mind you, it’s only four in the afternoon. It’s a gorgeous day out, I’m drunk but not wasted… I’m not ending my day here.
Now, as we all know, drinking tends to beget poor judgement and a little… shall we say… desire for companionship. So, like a moron, I begin scrolling through my phone for two things… First, someone (anyone) to continue drinking with once I returned to Hoboken… and Second, any girl in my contact list that I hadn’t already either burned a bridge with, insulted or otherwise ruined an opportunity for some sort of physical interaction.
I found the former in my roommate (who was actually going to be out watching the 4 PM games anyway) and the latter in a girl I had been texting with from CoffeeMeetsBagel. We’d discussed meeting for a drink at some point in the near future, but ol’ booze brain decided it would be a good idea to meet her that night.
This is where the fact that no one calls each other any longer really hurt this girl. Because we were texting, she had no idea that I had been drinking all day (and would continue to for another 4-5 hours until we met up) and had a hoarse voice.
But, her loss. I had an inkling this wasn’t a great idea, but pressed forward. We agreed to meet at 9:30 and I continued on my path for the day. That path, mind you, included drinking through those 4 PM games and finding more friends to drink/eat with during the Giants/Cowboys night game.
It was at this point in the night where my friends (three women that weren’t drunk at all) pointed out how ridiculous** my plan to meet a girl after dinner in my current state was. I disagreed with them, on the grounds that even though I did agree this was a pretty self-destructive plan, it would at least be pretty funny to see it happen. Somehow, they didn’t see the humor in it.
I headed downtown with my roommate to the bar where I’d meet this girl. To review, consider the following:
- I’d been drinking consistently for nearly 12 hours at this point.
- I was wearing a stained Bucs jersey (with only an undershirt beneath).
- Because I didn’t put any suntan lotion on, my face was lobster-red.
- I had very little voice left.
None of these stopped me as they should have. For some reason, I pressed on, laughing all the way. In fact, at one point, I nearly convinced my roommate to head to the bar with me. In retrospect, that was the only way I could’ve made this date more awful for her—by bringing a friend.
Thankfully, we both reconsidered the idea and realized that me going as presently constituted was enough.
The date was (spoiler alert) one drink in length. Before I could do much talking (although she could probably tell something was off with me), she told me some boring story about how she was doing in Fantasy Football that day***. I decided it was probably best to say something Fantasy Football related, which she didn’t seem to care about. By the time I’d asked if she wanted to get another drink (more for my own enjoyment than hers) she already was getting up to leave.
Unfortunately for her, we both live in Hoboken and in the same direction from the bar we were at. So, I offered to walk her home. She gave me the first (what I thought might be) courtesy “No, don’t worry about it”. I asked again, she repeated again, this time with actual vigor.
I didn’t ask again, simply turned on a dime and headed up the street to where I lived.
We never spoke again and I don’t blame her.
But, at least I had a little fun.
*For those interested, they’d go on to lose 7 consecutive games after that opening week loss and finish the season 4-12. Both the starting QB and the coach from that game are no longer with the team.
**You could have also went with obnoxious, asinine, stupid or rude there.
***”Some boring story” about Fantasy Football really is redundant, isn’t it? Just “a story” about Fantasy Football would’ve sufficed.
scott spinelli 