A good friend does not necessarily a good wingman make

Some women get subtle, some do not. It wasn’t until I was edging towards 30 that I realized some things should only be left up to the first of these.

Scenario: Marketing gals. Post-work. Dive bar. Beer. Men in suits. You do the math.

As several of my girlfriends and I were sitting around a high-top table simultaneously debating which purse should get the prime purse hanging property on the single hook below, appropriate forms of organizational change management, the best hair dresser in town and the virtues of garlic fries over cold pizza (yes, we really can have that many conversations at one time), I couldn’t help but notice the group of suits directly in front of me.

Working in the corporate world of L.A., a group of suits is not out of the norm.  But there was an odd thing about this particular group – one was consistently and repetitively looking in our direction. 

When someone is sitting in front of you, one table over, directly in your line of site, it only requires four somewhat awkward and accidental incidents of eye contact in short repetition to realize, he wasn’t looking in our direction, he was looking at me.

I subtly shifted my weight to optimize the maximum get me out of his eye line now situation while my girlfriend looked at me with a knowing nod. While the shift and dodge is used extremely rarely in my reality, my friend recognized the action. Most would subtly raise their eyebrows in a questioning where?  But my friend took the less well-known tact that aligns more closely with the let’s be blatantly obvious descriptor. Don’t get me wrong, I am typically a fan of straightforward communication. This was not one of those moments.

While her girl radar attempted to zone in, her head shot from left to right, back to left and then to the right as I did a slight head nod to help her identify the source of my sly shift and dodge.  I wondered how long it would take for her to actually pull a muscle when I offered up under my breath “scruffy guy, directly across from me.”

Directly across from me was translated 90 degrees to the left as her eyes began to track through all of the non-suit wearing, clean-shaven guys drinking their beer and minding their own business. 

After she stood up to “stretch” I finally shook my head and countered with the strategic point directly at him under the table move. With this gesture she was able to identify the source of my weight redistribution and nodded in acknowledgement.

A few more happy hour beverages in and I may have been inclined to stand up, walk over and address the scruffy faced suit directly to ask if my beer choice was really that intriguing. This was not one of those moments.

But the evening was not without its learnings; while I didn’t end up with a date, I did mused over the revelation – a good friend does not necessarily a good wingman make.