Mad Game, Bro

I have expressed time and time again how much I don't care for dating.  But it would be fair to clarify that it is internet dating that I hate.  I hate having to determine a man's worth from a dating profile or a series of exchanged texts and emails.  I hate having to sit across a table from someone I don't know any further than a survey of questions answered about romantic preferences and "dating style".  This has really been the only way I have been meeting men over the past few years, as it seems harder and harder to meet men in an organic way anymore.  I don't spend a lot of times at bars, or clubs - I don't attend any group functions or classes.  I know the same 15 men I see at work each day (some of them are datable, though I don't think they believe the same to be true about me).  Any opportunity I seem to have with finding and dating men always feels more like a job interview than spending time with someone because you met them by chance, felt something, and wanted to pursue it further.

Me and my life brommate Chelsea headed out to trivia this past Thursday night.  I have heard lots of stories about bar trivia.  People seem to love it, and I tend to hate everything people love, so I have made it a point to avoid it for the past few years.  But, get a few margaritas in me, and I forget my petty objections to socially accepted activity and am game for just about anything.  As we approached the table of Chelsea's manfriends I noticed their team name was "Zack Morris and the Brick Phones".  "Okay", I thought to myself, "we will all get along just fine".

We weren't even at the table for more than 5 minutes when Chelsea announced that the guy sitting to her right, sporting one hell of a beard, would be my romantic interest for the evening.  She was basing this strictly on the fact that he had a beard.  Apparently I have a type - and it's 20 year old boys and bearded men.  Her statement was half fact and half taken as a challenge by me.  Bearded man would be mine, if for nothing more than a hot make-out session in a bar on a Thursday night. 

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that beardface and I had a ton in common.  He is also a drummer, has a long standing history with the local Chicago music scene, loves to write, and is currently getting a PhD in Philosophy.   (That last fact has nothing to do with my interests, I just wanted to brag about the fact that he is getting a PhD.  He also drives a Cadillac.  I digress.) After many shared laughs and a couple dozen cigarettes on the patio, he leaned in for the kiss.  OH BEARDFACE!  HAPPY DAYS!  Nothing excites me more than making out with dudes, except making out with dudes who have beards.

Chelsea was also running game on a young gent in the same circle of friends.  So as the bar was closing and we were paying our tabs, I decided it wasn't necessary to end the evening so soon and invited the bros over to the Katie-cave.  Lucky bastards, indeed.  The Cadillac was cozy, and the hand-holding and stop light kissing was butterfly inducing.  When us make-shift double-daters got back to the cave, a Bayside dance party ensued followed by a Kevin Smith viewing party that lasted approximately 10 minutes before we all got too handsy and had to depart to our separate bedrooms.  In retrospect, the only thing that I would have changed was Chelsea and I exchanging high-fives in passing.  Because at this point we had run game, seduced two suitors, and were closing the deal. 

I won't go into the specifics of either of our closed door activates, but it is fair to say we both handled ourselves like dudes.  We took what we wanted, no apologies, and went to bed.  Used and abused.  And it felt good.  For once to be the taker and not the giver.  To pick up a guy at a bar, to get what I wanted, and then tuck myself into bed cuddled up next to a beard and feeling very satisfied with myself.  It's not nearly as slutty as it sounds.  I didn't sleep with the guy.  Which I am happy about.  I have a tendency of jumping into bed way too soon, and then act shocked and surprised with men don't view me as "girlfriend material".  Why buy the cow, ya know?

Chelsea and I spent the following day glowing about making out with boys, and it was a lovely reminder that outside of OkCupid and suffering through first dates with strangers - there are still genuine connections that can be made by fate or luck, or just good timing.  Beardface has my number, and who knows if he will use it.  I like to think waking up in his arms versus having him leave a very passed out me in bed in the middle of the night is a good sign.  And if he doesn't, I'm not too worried.  I have rediscovered the fact that I run some mad game, bro.  Maybe it's time I disconnect from the internet dating world for a bit and just force myself to go out more.  I have a wingman with equal amounts of game to be run, so watch out single dudes in the greater Chicagoland area.  Me and my bro are on the prowl this summer, and if Beardface is any indication, you really don't stand a chance.