so my wingman and i were at the bar. we were just out to have a few beers, nothing big. three girls park themselves at our table, two dudes are with them and the dudes are absolutely hammered. the girls tell them off, hammered guys leave, and my wingman begs me to open the set. i'm good at opening a set. i use the "what size sweater" routine on them. HB8 answers enthusiastically, HB7 can't really hear me, HB5.. well, who cares what she says. wingman is fielding her. we talk as i try to pull HB7 into the conversation, but i'm weary. they've already rejected the hammered dudes and their shields are up. at least we're talking. about fetish clubs in the city, for some reason. HB8 clearly has a boyfriend, i'm not after her. the bar closes, we leave and head to the next bar. aww yeah, i think, they want to stay with us.

wingman orders beer, and although i've had quite enough i keep drinking. mistake right there, kids. if you start to slur, drink coke. anyhow, we keep talking until the bar closes. i walk HB7 home. no kino, no nothing. no IOI's or anything. but we have things in common. we get to her house and as a last desperate act i just blurt out "i'm getting your number" and she explains that that's not going to happen. i walk home alone.

lesson learned: alcamahol is NOT a reliable magic juice. if you can open a set after three beers, you can open after two beers. and if you can open after two beers... well, you can open sober.