Just Wink: A Tale of Flirting

In August two of my three best college buds (Bestie and Male Bestie) and I decided to reunite in North Carolina, at the home of Bestie. We hadn’t all been together in almost two years and the time had come for the Wonder Triplets to activate!

Male Bestie (MB) and I flew in on a Wednesday, prepared to crash in a two bedroom condo already occupied by Bestie, Bestie’s BF and Future Boyfriend (hereafter referred to as he/him). It was a tad bit cramped but that just gave us more of an opportunity to interact with each other.

Thursday night Bestie brought us (me, MB and him) to the local bar, Hannah’s Haus. One of the ways I like to judge establishments is by the writing on the bathroom wall. The better the stories, rhymes, stickers, etc., the more comfortable I feel with a place. Hannah’s was one of the best yet.

Oh poetry, you slay me.

Yes, a handle specifically made for hovering over a toilet seat. Genius.

Who could deny the hilarity?

We kicked off the night by grabbing beers at the bar. Oh how I missed the taste of Yuengling. It isn’t sold in Maine and I hadn’t had so much as a sip of it in well over three years. At the time it tasted like nectar from the gods. Bestie left us to go walk some dogs she was pet sitting, one of her myriad jobs. Alone with the boys I began my descent into Drunkville, population: me.

So, this was happening.

While the boys made small talk, catching each other up on the events of their respective lives, I began acting like a desperate housewife. There was a lot of hair flipping and coy smiles as chugged my alcohol. I was determined to keep pace with the boys, quite the feat for my first time drinking after almost two years without a drop. I was inebriated enough that I texted my roommate to announce that I was drinking, thinking she would find it as fascinating as I did. She didn’t. Bestie finally returned after about half an hour.

It was to be a night of games. We started with cornhole. I was sure that they were purposely giving me the wrong name, trying to make me say things that sounded dirty. We’re that kind of friends. Bestie decided to split up the teams based on where we were born. The Mason Dixon line was to be the divider. I was paired with him given that I was born in Tennessee and he was from Virginia. We worked surprisingly well together, pretty much smashing the competition. Or I was smashed. One or both of these things.

FOOSEBALL! Also known as the portion of the evening when I was very obviously flirting. If you can even call it that. What’s it called when you think you’re flirting in a very sexy manner but are actually being/looking super awkward? If a word has not already been invented, might I suggest referring to it as Maggie-ing? I chose this time to show Bestie a text I had sent to my roommate earlier in the night: “Drunk and flirting with a guy in skinny jeans. This is my life.” I wasn’t subtle in what I was showing her and there was a lot of juvenile giggling and oh so smoothly motioning towards him. And by oh so smoothly I mean obvious as fuck.

While we played Boys vs. Girls teams I told Bestie I would wink at her when the object of my flirtation was within sight. Only my version of telling is the same as most people’s version of shouting. He very obviously heard the conversation and when I gave an over dramatic wink, the deal was sealed. I had made a ginormous ass of myself. Also known as a standard Thursday.

We moved on to Jenga. The Jenga game they have is very impressive. Rather than playing with little blocks, the pieces are huge. Think 2×2 blocks of wood. Despite being well under the influence at this point, I had the steadiest hands and quickly wrecked the competition. Did I mention that I’m a tad competitive?

This, children, is what is commonly referred to as crushing it.

Next we settled into a game of Battleship. I somehow finagled it so I was on the same team as him. No doubt it was done with about as much subtlety as a tornado. I kept finding ways to touch his arm to get his attention or gently bump him with my elbow. In retrospect what I call gentle probably felt like a Mac truck ramming into him. I’d like to mention that this entire time was spent winking to Bestie and loudly pointing out that I was winking. Winner.

We left the bar for the night and started the short walk home. Seeing as I am a genius, I decided to walk on the wall of the cemetery across the street. In a skirt. Imagine my embarrassment when a gust of wind hit, revealing my not at all sexy underpants. I somehow managed to make it without cracking my head open. Thank God for small favors. Life: 1, Maggie: 0.

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2 comments

  1. Hey sometimes, those objects of our desires require 2×4’s upside the head to get their attention… what can i say? speak from experience…haha.

  2. I’m glad he finally got the hint so I could stop embarrassing myself. Oh wait, I continue to embarrass myself on a daily basis 🙂

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