When people think of the wingman, they immediately think of Top Gun. Maverick & Goose, Iceman & Slider, or Sigfried & Roy. OK the last one wasn't in Top Gun, but you get the idea. The wingman is an important part in any single man's arsenal. He's basically the friend who will take the bullet so his buddy can hook up with a girl. In most cases, we hear tales of the wingman hooking up with the ugly friend just so his buddy can score with the girl that is out of his league. In the end, the guy doesn't really care, because he's wasted his entire evening for his friend's benefit and he's getting a little payback. Even though the collateral damage that is caused to his psyche might not be worth it.
Funny thing about being a wingman is that, the person himself is probably not realizing that the girls are playing the same game. I mean, seriously, guys thinking they are taking one of the team, but if one guy is hooking up with a really hot girl and the other guy isn't, chances are he isn't that good looking or charming in the first place. Either way, I love to watch the dynamic of the wingman unfold. I love watching when the young lad sees his Friday evening turning from a date with destiny to a walk on the wild side, eventually into the walk of shame. The alcohol intake increases as he realizes that to help his friend he may very well be pulling a coyote ugly in the AM. But like I said, usually he still ends up getting lucky, so let's not feel bad for the wingman. Or so I thought. Last night, I met, the ultimate wingman. He earned his stripes...and a shot of Jager.
It was a Monday night, the home run derby had ended and the jukebox played the soulful sounds of Akon. The two young ladies at the bar were chatting it up with two guys. One guy did all the talking. He bought shots. He was like a mason pouring the foundation. I wouldn't say he was a good-looking chap. He looked like the lead singer of Fall Out Boy with a Michael Strahan gap. It was clear he had a mission. He delivered his piece de resistance, "I'm moving back to North Carolina tomorrow." Had he sealed the deal? The girls giggled but it didn't seem like he was doing all that well. His uninterested friend appeared restless. The girls giggled some more. Then he got up to go to the bathroom and one of the girls followed. Her friend gave her a stern look and said she needed to talk to her. She returned and confirmed she was not going to hook up, she just had to use the facilities. We chatted with the other girl who we knew and The Wingman still hadn't returned. The girl came back walked past us and within two minutes was locked in a passionate embrace with the quiet unassuming guy. I pointed out the amazing scene and with great difficulty we tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. Al Green's Let's Stay Together gently played in the background, only adding to the sensuality of the moment. During this lustful foray, we had barely noticed as the dejected wingman returned to his seat. His shoulders slumped, his hopes crushed, and his libido left severed, he slugged back his drink. I offered the condolence drink and he glumly accepted.
We still are not quite sure what happened last night. It would take Gil Grissom, Scully and Mulder to truly figure this out. I don't know how and why what happened did. I won't try to understand, because it was more confusing than Sarah Palin's resignation speech. I do know one thing. Goose, Slider, & Roy can not hold a candle to the world's greatest wingman. The next time you find yourself in the wingman scenario, take heed, you don't want to fall prey to the situation that this poor guy did. I hope he's doing fine in North Carolina. Away from the pain and suffering. The next time I'm out at 4am on a Monday night/Tuesday morning and I'm drinking Jager, I will raise my glass and toast this poor disheveled soul. For he is the greatest wingman I have ever known.
Funny thing about being a wingman is that, the person himself is probably not realizing that the girls are playing the same game. I mean, seriously, guys thinking they are taking one of the team, but if one guy is hooking up with a really hot girl and the other guy isn't, chances are he isn't that good looking or charming in the first place. Either way, I love to watch the dynamic of the wingman unfold. I love watching when the young lad sees his Friday evening turning from a date with destiny to a walk on the wild side, eventually into the walk of shame. The alcohol intake increases as he realizes that to help his friend he may very well be pulling a coyote ugly in the AM. But like I said, usually he still ends up getting lucky, so let's not feel bad for the wingman. Or so I thought. Last night, I met, the ultimate wingman. He earned his stripes...and a shot of Jager.
It was a Monday night, the home run derby had ended and the jukebox played the soulful sounds of Akon. The two young ladies at the bar were chatting it up with two guys. One guy did all the talking. He bought shots. He was like a mason pouring the foundation. I wouldn't say he was a good-looking chap. He looked like the lead singer of Fall Out Boy with a Michael Strahan gap. It was clear he had a mission. He delivered his piece de resistance, "I'm moving back to North Carolina tomorrow." Had he sealed the deal? The girls giggled but it didn't seem like he was doing all that well. His uninterested friend appeared restless. The girls giggled some more. Then he got up to go to the bathroom and one of the girls followed. Her friend gave her a stern look and said she needed to talk to her. She returned and confirmed she was not going to hook up, she just had to use the facilities. We chatted with the other girl who we knew and The Wingman still hadn't returned. The girl came back walked past us and within two minutes was locked in a passionate embrace with the quiet unassuming guy. I pointed out the amazing scene and with great difficulty we tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. Al Green's Let's Stay Together gently played in the background, only adding to the sensuality of the moment. During this lustful foray, we had barely noticed as the dejected wingman returned to his seat. His shoulders slumped, his hopes crushed, and his libido left severed, he slugged back his drink. I offered the condolence drink and he glumly accepted.
We still are not quite sure what happened last night. It would take Gil Grissom, Scully and Mulder to truly figure this out. I don't know how and why what happened did. I won't try to understand, because it was more confusing than Sarah Palin's resignation speech. I do know one thing. Goose, Slider, & Roy can not hold a candle to the world's greatest wingman. The next time you find yourself in the wingman scenario, take heed, you don't want to fall prey to the situation that this poor guy did. I hope he's doing fine in North Carolina. Away from the pain and suffering. The next time I'm out at 4am on a Monday night/Tuesday morning and I'm drinking Jager, I will raise my glass and toast this poor disheveled soul. For he is the greatest wingman I have ever known.
oh mannnn.
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