Beautiful People
Went to see Hostel 2 with a friend, then we headed to this party at Luna for some FOS/BOS Abi thing that turned out to be pretty dead because of Southside pulling everyone away. Didn’t really matter much though—when the two of us are out somewhere together we tend to make our own thing anyway.
We’re walking around the place and I notice this guy. Tall, built, longer brown hair, eyes that actually make you look twice. There’s something on his neck—a scar or a brand or something—and it just works, makes him more interesting somehow. The whole night we keep coming back to the same question: how do you actually approach someone like that? What’s the move? What do you even say?
By two in the morning I’m ready to leave. These guys are always so far up their own ass, and there’s no way we’re getting anywhere with him anyway. My friend shuts that down quick though—says if we leave I’m just going to spend the entire drive home complaining about not trying, so there’s nothing for it but to stay.
He walks past us and she just hits him with this confident Hey, stop for a second.
No warning, no discussion with me first. He stops, looking confused, and she starts pitching this party we’re supposedly throwing in August, talking it up like it’s going to be the event of the year. He’s still just staring. I jump in trying to save it, trying to loosen the whole thing up. It doesn’t work. Then he says something I’ve never had anyone say to my face before: just pretend he’s a good friend of mine and I won’t be so nervous, won’t stammer and second-guess myself the whole time.
I don’t have a response to that. This guy just broke me down in the middle of a bar. Arrogant doesn’t even start to cover it. So I tell him he must really think a lot of himself. I don’t think anyone’s ever told him that before. He looks at me like I just materialized out of nowhere. Then he asks about the party again and I’m already done with this, so I tell him we should probably just forget the whole thing about the party.
That was supposed to be the beginning of some other direction—some kind of redirect. But he doesn’t like it. Just turns around and walks away without a word. Leaves us standing there.
I get it. I broke every rule about approaching someone. Did it completely backwards. And after what he said, I was already checked out anyway. But it just confirmed what I’ve been pretty sure about for a while: beautiful people are almost always assholes, and they’re definitely not interested in people like me.
We head to the car. I’m driving, and my little Elvis is parked right by the entrance. Immediately some drunk girl is banging on the window wanting a ride home. Then his friend shows up asking if I’ll drive him out to Buchloe for ten euros. Come on. I tell them both no, pretty clearly. We drive off and somewhere between leaving and getting closer to Stotten, the whole thing hits us funny and we’re both cracking up at what felt like an absolute disaster maybe thirty minutes before.
Some people just have a gift for this stuff. Walking up to someone, making it work. I’m clearly not one of them. Never have been.