Went out solo again, starting at the usual bar/club, once again wearing the bright argyle sweater and sportcoat. Ordering at the bar, I met a nice AFC (emphasis on F, as I soon learned). He was with a pretty lame group, who were more or less scaring the women away. At one point I basically grabbed him and dragged him over to a 2-set, which we opened, and I think he enjoyed it a bit. He was drinking a lot to try to build some liquid courage, and his group continued to be lame. No one was dancing, and I wanted to return to the dancier bar around the corner that was so good last week, so I bounced.

The bar around the corner was where I had a run-in with the bouncer the week before. I was wondering what would happen if/when I ran into the same bouncer, whether he would recognize me. He was hanging out by the door right after the ID checker, and he recognized me right away. He half apologized, saying that whether or not he believed me, when a woman says she's being harrassed he has to take it seriously. I agreed, saying that I understood and would have done the same thing in his position (not entirely true, since I wouldn't have been quite so aggressive, but whatever--better to be on the bouncer's good side).

The previous week at this bar I had two women competing to buy me drinks, so I had high hopes for something like that happening again. It's funny, because while I acted the same, dressed the same, went the same time and day of the week, this time the reactions I got were far more skeptical. I can only guess that I wasn't actually acting the same because of different expectations.

I approached one girl who was friendly a bit, and then she introduced me to her 20-years-her-senior Irish boyfriend, or so they said. I chatted with him for a bit and moved on. Danced with some girls, and talked to another girl who was very friendly but then rejoined her friends, who were leaving. I didn't ask for a #, because as before, I was pretty sure she'd give me but far less sure that I'd ever call it, and I feel bad getting numbers and never calling. At this point I started texting a girl who I'd been talking to online, who I knew lived in the neighborhood. I couldn't entice her to come out--she said she was in her nightgown--but my innuendo in response to that was well-received. We made a date for later this week.

As I was leaving in my car, I saw the AFC from the beginning of the evening trudging up the hill in the snow, so I pulled over and gave him a ride home. This was a nice ending.