The first time I gave a guy my number without him asking for it was about two years ago. He looked like Zach Braff, and to my surprise, he never called. That was so Braff of him; always losing girls’ numbers…
I don’t give out my number often. That was actually the only time, until last Wednesday.
I was at a show in the Valley with my friend. We were seated in the back of the room, watching some comic who was on stage making fun of gay people. After he established that he was clearly homophobic, he polled the audience: “Are there any gay people in the crowd tonight? Clap if you’re gay.”
Of course, no one clapped.
So after a few seconds of silence, I decided to volunteer. Then the guy seated at the bar behind my table turned around and asked me if I had just fake clapped that I was gay. I told him no, and used a joke from my column last week: “I haven’t decided yet,” I told him.
He laughed and turned back around. We had shared a moment. I turned to my friend, Jen and asked for her approval of his hotness. She agreed. Then I asked her if she dared me to give him my number. This is my way of making it seem like I it wasn’t my idea. She took the bait and challenged me. So I turned around to survey the situation.
And that’s when I noticed the back of his shirt.
It said, “MAKE THE PLAY!”
I guess it was some kind of sports shirt from high school or something. I turned to Jen and told her that I couldn’t see myself dating someone who wears a shirt like that in public. Then she reminded me that he was probably thinking how he could never date a girl who eats sushi out of her purse. (I had snuck it into the venue and was trying to hide it from the waitstaff.)
“Touche,” I said, with a mouth full of rice and imitation crab.
So I waited until we were about to leave and scribbled my first name and number on a cocktail napkin. Then I walked up behind him, tapped him on the back. He turned around as I slid the folded napkin across the bar and said, “Your shirt inspired me to ‘make the play.’”
I didn’t wait for a response. I just turned to leave. Smooth, right?
I could hear him and his friend laughing at my awesome pick up line. Then he shouted after me, “Hey Nikki, what’s your last name?”
“Glaser.”
“You were on Last Comic Standing, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, I remember you.”
Holy crap, I thought. This dude remembers me from a mere three minutes on TV over two years ago! Amazing! We are meant to be.
Then he raised his hand to reveal the ring.
“I’m married,” he said.
I was speechless. I never look at ring fingers. If I’m going to act like a Sex and the City chick, I should follow all of their pre-number slipping procedures.
I told him I appreciated his honesty and walked away. Then I turned back around and told him not to wear that shirt in public because it sent the wrong message.
That was the end of that.
But no.
Then the next day my roommate IM’d me to ask if I slipped my number to some guy the night before. I told her yes.
“I used to work with him,” she told me. “He just IM’d me to say that he met you and you tried to pick him up, but I told him you’d never do something like that and you just probably wanted to be friends.”
“No,” I told her. “I have enough dude friends. I meant business.”
And I did. We would have had such a great story to tell my sister’s kids (I’m not going to have any). But alas, he’s married.
So it goes. I swear, after this incident and a series of other failed attempts at finding love, I truly believe that all the good guys are taken.
And that’s why I only date men with girlfriends.
Nikki Glaser is a stand-up comedian living in Los Angeles. Go to www.myspace.com/nikkiglaser for info.
