I’m out of here.” The three of us walked to a table and discussed our desires.īarb’s desire: Party with her friends until the bar closed. After an hour of this, Ron approached us. We made out in corners and on the dance floor only when her friends weren’t looking. Obviously, Barb’s men had remained quiet and tolerated her poor kissing skills. Since that day, I had adjusted my tongue velocity, and now I receive compliments all the time. When I was in college, a girl told me coldly, “Okay, you know what? You suck at kissing! Slow down and stop moving your tongue so damn fast.” I was baffled because I seriously thought I was good because my first girlfriend had said so. Her tongue was moving so fast that kissing her became more of a task than a pleasure. I thought that by the time girls reached the age of forty-two they’d evolve into decent kissers. Well, I think you need to tell your friend that I am going to buy you a drink, then walk with me toward the hallway so we can make out.”īarb whispered something to her friend and took my hand. Her: “Well yeah, hence the term ‘open marriage.’” Me: “Are you serious? You both agreed on this?” I was still doubtful about the “married” thing. I carried on, eventually stumbling upon Barb sitting at a table with her girlfriend. One girl stopped talking to me because someone around us laid a grisly fart, creating a ten-second stink. I circulated through the bar, hitting on chicks. I wasn’t concerned whether my new target had seen me hit on the tall cougar in the smoking area moments before. Hopping from one space to the next gave me a fresh start no matter how many times I got rejected. Girls in any one area couldn’t observe the other areas. Woody’s was different there were four separate areas where I could work: the hallway, the bar and table area, the dance floor, and the smoking area. The animal in me thinks it essential to hit on girls without the whole damn bar as witnesses. I loathe bars that are simply one giant room. It wasn’t a huge bar, but it had a certain dynamic that made it perfect for my style. Woody’s Wharf had emerged as my favorite bar. I tend to confuse or anger younger girls, who ultimately accuse me of “being creepy.” But when it comes to older women, I have a magic potion. I can walk up to the hottest milf/cougar at the bar, and, more often than not, hook up with her. I possess a secret pheromone that attracts women between the ages of thirty to forty-five.
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