Ladies and toast

By John Reid

A few Thursdays ago, I was at the Den having a good time, talking to friends, getting drunk — nothing special. I hadn’t a clue how special this night would become. During a lull in conversation, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned slowly, fully expecting a drunken friend to start slurring nonsense at me. Needless to say I was taken aback when I realized it wasn’t a jackass friend barely in control of his motor functions, but a girl! A smoking hot girl! She actually looked like Rachel Leigh Cook when she stole my heart in 2001’s Josie and the Pussycats. Naturally, I moved out of the way, apologizing and assuming she needed to get by. And this is when the night got Harry Potter on me — magical, that is. She didn’t breeze by on her way to the dance floor, but instead stopped, put out her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Jenna.” Time froze, people stopped dancing, beer stopped flowing and I stopped breathing. This attractive young lady had just approached me! I wasn’t in the way, she wasn’t asking me to buy her a drink, she actually just wanted to meet me.

Now I know what you’re thinking, “Good God, I meet people every night I get to the bar, what the hell does this guy look like?” If you look at the picture at the top of this article, you can see I’m not exactly worth writing home about. I may not be pulling numbers off my windshield when I leave to go home at night, but I’m also not so bad that I’m calling numbers in the back of the classifieds yet either. I do meet my fair share of the fairer sex, but not often does a good looking, sober, drink-in-hand-kind-of-girl approach me and I can honestly say that nothing could be hotter.

Why doesn’t that happen more often? Blame evolution. Historically, men have always been the pursuers. Women hold the power to wait as the pursuee and pick and choose whatever guy seems least likely to be the type that’s going to be poking them on Facebook for the next three weeks. When that balance is upset, shit gets real. Then it’s like in 40 Days and 40 Nights (yeah I know, but sometimes TBS just has a lock on me) when the girl gets mad at Josh Hartnett for taking their power away because he’s not chasing after them, but then Josh finds true love and everyone’s happy except for the guys that stayed up till 3 a.m. to watch a movie on TBS with all the nudity censored out.

Well I think the balance needs to get upset a little more often. Ladies, how often does Cosmo tell you that confidence is the sexiest thing you can wear? That magazine may spew bullshit, but they nailed it with that revelation. So show your confidence and make that first move, because somewhere between the bra burnings and Danica Patrick, women assumed an equal position. Gone should be the days when guys were literally poisoning themselves with alcohol just to gain the courage to dance with that gorgeous redhead the next time “My Humps” came on.

Essentially, what I’m saying is this: ladies start driving that stupid old pickup truck, it doesn’t matter what he says. Or more simply put, take charge, whether that means picking up at the bar or asking the guy out on a date, it’s ridiculously hot to see that assertiveness. The first time a girl I was dating asked me on a date and had the whole thing organized I fell for her like she was a Chicken Ranch Melt and I was on a 2 a.m. Denny’s run. Still, I’m not saying that women should start holding doors for us and dropping plastic at restaurants — guys’ egos require us to feel somewhat useful — but forcing an early exit from your friend’s lame cocktail party to go back to your place for some heavy petting would make me melt like an M&M in your hand.

Showing initiative like that will likely have a guy pretty impressed, but it can be just the beginning. Calling the shots by getting your hand on the stick to change gears in the bedroom is ridiculously sexy. Pinning the dude’s hands behind his head, performing a little striptease, telling him what you want him to do to you — that stuff is hotter than a toaster set on 10 and us men love our toast extra crunchy.

Anyway, back to the magical night at the Den. Jenna ended up being a very cool girl and a delightful little conversation followed. Who knows where it could have gone had we not gotten separated while grabbing our jackets at close. I never saw her again, sometimes I wonder if it ever even happened…No, I’m just kidding, I got too drunk and fucked it up, no surprise. But still, I learned that night that there are women out there not afraid to take the reins and now I’m always looking for the girl that’s going to make me bow down from time to time.

If anything, this article may be something to keep in mind Sunday night at the Roadhouse after you’ve had to reject the 12th stumbling idiot in vertical stripes. The best move you may have could be to gather your confidence, grab a drink and introduce yourself to one of the guys without frosted tips who is still sober enough to focus on the eyes in your face and not the ones on your chest.

Men may have evolved to hunt and pursue, but I would be sincerely surprised if many of us would say no to the prey biting back from time to time.

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