Tommy Boy: A Cautionary Tale

Friday night, I made my first trip out to Astoria's Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden. I was escorted by the very sexy lady pack of Curly, Meg, AZ and Celine, who does not have a blog but makes lovely jewelry. Not long after our arrival, a man named Tommy made his way over to our table.

A man who approaches a table of five women has to be either very brave or very stupid. It didn't take long to figure out which one Tommy was. Guys, here's where you start taking notes on what NOT to do when you're crashing a Girl's Night Out.

He sat down at the table and made it clear that he was there for AZ. Which was fine by the rest of us, but not so fine by AZ. At one point, I made a trip to the bathroom with her, where we devised a plan; I would text her when we got back to the table, interrupting her conversation. She would read the text and laugh. I would then say, "Is that Ben?" She'd nod and then apologetically tell Tommy that she had a boyfriend and he was coming to meet us. The result? Bye bye Tommy.

We didn't have to execute our elaborate plan, though, because in our absence, Tommy had asked around the table and been told that AZ had a boyfriend. So you'd assume at that point he'd make his exit. Not Tommy. Tommy got up, moved to the other end of the table and started working his magic on Meg, and by magic I mean his fake Irish accent even though he was born and raised in Long Island.

Now this is where Tommy made his first mistake. Even if Meg had been interested in him, there's no way she could have felt like anything other than sloppy seconds after he came to the table for the sole purpose of picking up Alyssa. So we told him that, and then he made his second mistake.

"When I came over to the table, I was attracted to three of you," he said. What we heard was, "Three of you are hot. Two of you are not." I wanted to know who the third one was, but I was vetoed by the table. I'm pretty sure it was Curly, because he criticized her level of Irishness with all the grace of a 4th grade boy pushing a girl down in the schoolyard during recess. He also took the fact that she's a lesbian quite personally, as if it were his own penis that sent her to the other side, just that moment.

The couple sitting at the table behind gave up communicating with each other at one point to fully take in the show that was Tommy. The more agitated Tommy got, the more he said the wrong thing and the deeper he dug himself into a hole that he was never going to get out of. As a group, we were divided on whether or not to feel badly for him. I was on the "no fucking way" side of the fence, but then again, I'm a raging bitch.

In the end, Tommy stormed off and never returned. We may not have been able to actually teach him any lessons about how to properly hit on girls in bars, but hey, at least we got a pitcher of Hoegaarden out of it.

On a related note, my next post will explain why I walked around all day yesterday with a pale yellow g-string in my purse.