No, you can be mine!

The Art to being The Wingman.

I can’t say I’ve perfected it. That silent support. The gentle nudging together of a mate and their object of momentary attraction. Followed by a stealthy departure for them to “get better acquainted”.

Apparently my sudden, “Oh gotta go…uh…over there….uh…to stand in that corner….yes yes, on my ace, no, I enjoy my own company sometimes…ok, I’m going” disappearances are not as subtle as I picture them to be. I leave my mate and their hotness more awkward than if I’d just continued as the bicycle’s unneeded third wheel. My attempts of winging in fact expose their bad flirting attempts, & doom them to failure.

I do not just break the ice, I blowtorch it away from under their feet.

And who can come back from that with any dignity.

But then again, I am a chick who turns to a guy after his fifteen minutes of effort on me and says with a chuckle, “Are you hitting on me?”. [he he he – one way to topple an arrogant man!].

But occasionally I get it right. [I can almost feel one of my mates reading this post thinking, “This had better not be leading to a story I think it is heading to!” Naaa, I wouldn’t do that to you… I fear your wrath!]

Take the other week, in a pub, when an ex snog of hers bolsters through the door and suddenly he is buying us drinks and chatting chatting. I watch the scene unfold with lacking effort from both sides.

And so the Wingman status is called into action….

It is me who takes his number, “So, hey, you must come to such-and-such an event. I’ll give you a shout about it. Uhhh, just remind me of your number....”.

Chat chat random chat. More drinks. Occasional back touching noted.

Champs is suddenly intrigued in her phone for ages with very important sms’s….this makes her unable to engage in this conversation with the two… mainly sms’ing mates saying, “Wake up already and entertain me. I’m playing wingman. PHONE ME! URGENT! If you call now, so-and-darling-so is gonna get laid. PHONE!”.

Chat chat random chat. More drinks. Back touching has increased to lingering looks between the two. Maybe a head occasionally rested on the other’s chest or head. But still in the pretence that it is a friendship touch.

Wingman Champs: “Uhhh, it seems your mates are going. And we’re still keen for another drink. I’m sure we can give you a lift home. Well, not me, I’m not the driver. But your house is on the route home for so-and-darling-so from my house”. (Obviously a complete lie and all three of us know this. It is at least a 10 minute back track. But a wingman’s gotta do what a wingman was born to do…). Oh is that my phone ringing….”

All in all. I am owed much thanks for my excellent efforts the other night, several weeks back. I have learnt well. My efforts have gone from being as stealthy as Tom Cruise on an Opera show to James Bond getting the girl from a leisurely stroll out of an ocean.

So….How was the date the other night, my so-and-darling-so friend?! He he he.