Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo

OK, I think I'm sufficiently recovered from the weekend. The girlfriend of a buddy of mine and her roommates had a bbq down at their apartment on Balboa Island (think Martha's Vineyard with it's quaint and narrow streets, daytrippers visiting craft shops, 'cept, well, sunny year round). When I arrived around 7pm, the guy to girl ratio was very Silicon Valley which sucked cuz that was one reason I left Silicon Valley (at least they didn't head to the computers for some network gaming). There was one stunning single woman there, we'll call her OC Chick, who looked a lot like a very young Marg Helgenberger. I asked my buddy about her, and he told me that, alas, she wasn't interested in Asian guys and plus she was really picky (which probably accounts for her being single). Also, she mentioned to my buddy that she wasn't intersted in any of the guys who showed up (which included yours truly at the time). I figured she was out of my league anyway, so I didn't feel that self-conscious when I talked to her.

Anyway, she was very low key and a guy's type of girl--loves sports and bought the new Eminem CD that day to support a fellow Detroiter. At least two other guys were trying to hit on her, oddly both named Matt. One was a tall ex-jockish Aryan of a fella, and the other was a small guy who looked a shade over fourteen. Neither of them were that successful. Aryan Jock went for the hard press approach, which apparently annoyed OC Chick. Small Fry went for the conversation about relationships approach (Gawsh darn it's so hard to find a nice girl, I can't believe that you're still single, gee willickers) though with a subtle bait and switch gambit -- he mentioned how he fell in love for like five minutes with a girl he was talking to earlier that night, aw shucks, look how sweet I am don't you want to jump my bones now approach. Subtle, but ineffective.

Me? I didn't try, knowing what I knew. Plus, at the beginning of the night, the body language was totally "Don't friggin talk to me"--her arms were crossed, she was leaning back in the chair away from everyone. When I did talk to her, it was mainly because she looked a bit bored and I was just makin' conversation.

Fast forward a couple of hours. I'm slightly tipsy. OK, I'm drunk. Other women have shown up, but they're yellow sistas who be dissin' da yellow bruthas and one cute round-eye but with a three year old daughter. Now, I have a strange thing I do when I get drunk. Some people get belligerant. Some people get maudlin. Me, I breakdance. My buddy said he didn't believe me. My buddy's girlfriend said she didn't believe me. OC Chick heard this, and became really excited. She started touching my arm and begging me to breakdance. "Well, I'm not that drunk yet." "Do you want a shot? Any shot. I'll take a shot with you." "Hmmm, maybe a shot wouldn't be a good idea, you know, with me moving around a lot."

My buddy slipped in the Cruel Intentions soundtrack with Fatboy Slim's "Praise You" cued up. Next thing I know, the floor clears and everyone is looking at me. Hell, so I start doing the worm, a back flip, then spinning on the carpet. OC Chick gave me a big grin and said, "Your friend told me you were fun, but I didn't believe him." Fast forward half an hour, Small Fry was making his play for OC Chick and I was playing cool again. My buddy had to leave. His girlfriend, OC Chick and the few people left decided to go to The Village Pub--the cheese factor there was on Velveeta level. A balding sixty-something guy on the keyboards belting out Jimmy Buffet tunes with a balding sixty-something guy on sax accompanying him.

I sat at the same two seater table with her, but Small Fry sat in the seat next to her. My buddy's girlfriend sat next to me and asked, "So, are you making conversation or what?" I had to give her the negatory answer since Small Fry was still pulling the whole earnest shtick on her (any belief that I had playing the overly nice guy card when meeting women totally evaporated that night). We all had fun requesting Neil Diamond tunes until closing time. And OC Chick kept giving me random looks with goofy grins for the rest of the night (which I returned). She begged me to request "Bad Bad Leroy Brown," but unfortunately last call intervened.

Now, do I have any illusion that she was interested? Nah. I did the whole keeping slightly out of pace with the rest of the group thing to see if she followed, but she kept her own pace. When we got back to my buddy's girlfriend's pad, the rest of the guys started to leave--Small Fry got a small hug outta' OC Chick. Unfortunately, OC Chick decided to go to sleep before I could say goodbye. Like many other nights, I left sans digits. But on the hour drive back to Westwood (got back around 3 in the morning), I felt content. Aryan Jock guy got nothing from her. Small Fry got a cheap hug. I received full on eye to eye looks (not glances, but looks) combined with wide friendly smiles. I fell asleep happy.