One of my girls is late. The waiter decides to have a little fun and tell her that the rest of us had taken two tequila shots, each. And that she must do the same. She seriously considers it, before chastising us.
"You guys are crazy! That's what strippers drink!"
We just look at each other. I belly laughed. Because isn't that what everybody drinks? Also, who calls their friends strippers as an insult, really?
---
One drink in, one lady questions what she should do about a long-lingering flirtation. With a guy she clearly is interested in, and the feeling is mutual.
Cue eye rolls.
"You are SO Jane Austen-ing your life right now."
(Seriously ladies, stop it with Operation Play It Cool. Stop it with the swooning and mooning, and just go for it, yeah? We are in the era of Independent Womanhood. Get it.)
I thought that would have done it--go for it, case closed--but she continues the same discussion, and we're all forced to chime in. The consensus is that she is Doing It Wrong.
"Stop cockblocking yourself."
"You should just touch his penis. Just touch it. For our sakes'."
(Having a friend that is the "Samantha"? That is also a real, legit thing.)
---
Two drinks in, we discuss a different guy. He's really good on paper: great job, fantastic taste in date locales, sophisticated, well-dressed; but there is zero physical chemistry. Girlfriend is on the fence. She explains what she thinks is his pickup artist strategy:
"I think I figured it out. How he gets all these girls. I think he just slowly wears them down. With fancy meals and good taste."
Cue more eye rolls.
"...You make him sound like a serial killer."
"Just keep going on dates with him. What's the harm? He sounds kind of awesome."
She doesn't buy into it. Keeps framing him as a diamond in the rough. One she doesn't want to find.
"I mean, but maybe...I've found the unicorn, right?"
"...but you don't want to ride it."
"Ugh! Just touch it! Through his pants."
I followed up on all of the above the following week. Nothing was touched.
