meet me in the club, it's going down.

He looked at me menacingly. “You see this? She just bought it for me.”

Whatever Birthday Boy, friends don’t count.

I challenge him back, “bet you I can get a guy to buy me a drink before you could get a girl to.”

He points out the obvious. “You’re a girl. Of course you can.” Then he retorts with a new proposition. “Make it three guys and we have a deal.”

Hmm, I’ll meet you half way.

“Two guys to one girl. Strangers only. Friends don’t count. Loser has to buy the winner another drink.”

He thinks about it for a second and smiles reassuringly.

Game on, Birthday Boy.

We head upstairs together and instantly part our ways.

I slowly walk towards the bar. God there are so many girls in my way, where are all the guys at?

Birthday boy’s wing-girl taps me on the shoulder, points back at him running his game.

Uh-oh, I got to move fast.

I turn back to keep moving and almost crash into some guy. Blond, skinny, very European. I look up and he’s smiling at me. Then he begins to dance.

Perfect. Talk about effortless.

I dance right back, except he’s not doing your typical bump and grind. It’s my favourite type of dancing. Fun, flaily dancing. The type of dancing I do in my underwear when I jamming to music and getting ready in the morning. The type of dancing I do when I try to make Mister laugh. The type of dancing I do when I want to look like a flaming douche-bag.

“Vat’s yar name?” Euroboy shouts over the music.

“Michelle. And you?”

He screams something through the noise but I can’t hear him. The music’s blasting too hard and he’s got a thick Euro accent. Whatever, not like his name ever really mattered anyway.

“Do you vant a drrrink?” he asks.

Jackpot. You bet I do.

Next question? “Verr ar you frrrom?”

“Toronto.”

He shakes his head, “No, verr ar you frrrom?”

Funny how everyone always likes to ask me this. I think it’s the tan and the larger-than-your-average-Asian eyes.

“My parents are from China. Where are you from?”

“Latvia. Aive only been heer 8 months.”

Oh poor boy. He’s so innocent.

All of a sudden, I get pushed from the side. It’s birthday boy, standing next to me at the bar with a girl.

What? Already? How did this happen?

He points to the brown girl in front. For a second, I can’t breathe.

Then I realize who she is. LAME. We said no friends. Clearly, I still have a chance at winning this thing. But I realize I have to move faster, even though it’s only been about 5 minutes since we started.

I turn to Euroboy, “I have to go to the washroom, but I’ll be back!”

“OK! Ai’ll vait fer you heer. Right heer o-kay?!”

My heart sinks. Oh god, he’s such a genuinely nice guy and I’m such a jackass.

I grab my drink and begin making my way towards the other room. I need to find my group again so I can give away this drink. Obviously, a guy is not going to be inclined to buy me a drink if I’ve already got one in hand.

As I’m pushing through the sea of people, I feel a firm hand grab my arm. I look over. It’s some lame, bald, Italian-looking, wanna-be body builder pulling me towards him. He quickly invades my personal space and gyrates his pelvis towards me.

What the hell is this?

I push his hand away. “Don’t touch me. I don’t like pushy guys.”

He grins and grabs me again, “Oh me, I’m not pushy at all.”

This time I shove him and shove him hard, “I said I don’t like pushy guys, so fuck off.”

I continue to make my way through the crowd without looking back. I hate aggressive guys.

I eventually find my friends and they ask where have I been.

I smile. “Anyone want a free drink?” I fill them in on the bet: one down, one more to go. They laugh and tell me to keep going.

I look around for my next victim, but some Asian guy’s blocking my view. His flaily arms are getting up in my space. I can’t help but begin to laugh at the “game face” he has on while he’s dancing.

I jokingly flail my arms right back. Then the other two guys start laughing.

Oh, he’s part of a group I see. Perfect.

All three of them begin to small talk me. All the while, all I can think about is, “When are one of you suckers going to buy me a drink so I can win this thing?”

“Is that your real eye colour?” White Boy asks.

“Yeah, are they?” Afro dude chirps.

Asian Boy points out the obvious, “They’re contacts dude. She’s Asian.”

Ha. I flaunt my shit and play my game, “I used to model and they helped give me that extra something special you know?”

White boy smiles and gives me the up and down, “Look at you, you’re definitely something special already.”

Ugh, he has triggered my lame-o-radar. I can’t help but roll my eyes, and at a glance, I realize my friends are watching me.

White boy and I keep talking, and though I didn’t realize this at the time, his friends disappeared. WHAT GOOD WINGMEN! I’m actually slightly impressed. However, I am not impressed by the lack of a drink in my hand, even after I pull out all my moves.

It’s been five minutes and it doesn’t feel like it’s going anywhere. I start pulling in the desperation card.

“This club’s kinda dry and I’m wayyyy too sober for this.”

He replies, “It’s ok, I’m sober too. It’s probably better we get to know each other this way.”

Easy there buddy, it’s a club. No one is here to actually “get to know” each other better. Buy me my drink fucker. One last desperation card.

“But I can’t dance when I’m this sober and you look like you want to dance. You think you can hook me up with an amaretto sour?”

He hesitates.

And right then, I knew to call it quits. A good boxer always knows when to throw in the towel.

His Asian friend is back and is filling him in with details about something, and there, I saw my exit strategy present itself.

One more damnit, one more. I hope I’m not running out of time.

I walk around the club looking for my next victim. I walk slow pretending as if I’m looking for someone. Random arms begin grabbing me again. I instantly slap them away. I didn’t feel like dealing with another cock-sucker.

I get to a small hallway but am forced to take a side step to make room for people to pass. The last bald guy stops and grabs my arm.

Not this again.

He says, “You’re beautiful, like really beautiful.”

He sounds almost genuine.

“Want a shot? We’ve got bottles and bottles. You can have as much as you want.”

Seriously guys, this is just too easy.

I take two shots and leave, but not before Bald guy tries to kiss me even as I walk away. I do the head dodge and giggle as I make my way upstairs to find Birthday Boy to celebrate my win. My purse begins to vibrate and I dig through it feverishly to look for my phone. I hope to God it’s not Birthday boy.

BOOM.

I get tipped off balance and stumble backwards down the stairs. Lucky for me, I was only a couple steps up. I look up and begin to apologize, but I keep getting cut off by his apologies. His light green eyes were captivating.

“I’m so sorry, it’s completely all my fault.” he says apologetically.

Umm.. he’s got to be kidding right? I clearly walked into you, buddy.

“Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

HAHA. ARE YOU SERIOUS?

----------------------

So there we have it boys. Three drinks in about 25 minutes, mostly without trying. Sadly, the only one I made an actual effort for, I was unsuccessful. The others, I pretty much fell into.

All in all, this night was fun, really fun. I’m sure if you’re a stranger reading this, I sound like a complete jerk. But guys, don’t hate the player, hate the game. HAHA. (I can’t believe I just said that)

In all seriousness though, this was fun because I forgot what this felt like. In the last 4 years, I’ve only had a window of “single life” for about 5 months. With that said, I’ve only ever been in two real relationships (including the one I’m in now). And though I’ve been insanely happy with Mister for the last two years, what I don’t understand is how people don’t enjoy being single.

Girls? You typically have your pick of the litter. I mean, strictly speaking from a club point of view, you can pretty much spend the whole night without spending a dime. Plus, you probably look your best because you’re willing to spend the time to get ready for those potential guys.

Guys? Don’t tell me you don’t secretly enjoy the chase, whether you’re chasing or being chased. And having the flexibility to look/talk/hang out with any girl you want? Feels good doesn’t it?

I mean, there are always ups and downs to everything. But with dating? I personally think the ups outweigh the downs.

Think about the butterflies the first time you laid eyes on each other. The nervous stuttering at your first quiet, sit-down dinner. The picking-up-the-phone-and-hanging-it-up because you’re not sure if you should call. The accidental hand brushing while walking side by side. The warmth of their body the first time you hug.  

It’s such an adrenaline rush. How could you not love it?

Just admit it, dating is pretty fun.