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T0mShane

Awkward situations support group thread

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Hi, my name is Tom and I get into all kinds of sh*t. This one was particularly distressing and I’m wondering if you bros have any perspective that might help me get past the trauma. And, maybe, add tales of woe that we might find instructive.

 

The scenario was thus: My gym is a quarter mile away from my local pub, which i love, so today I decide after the workout to stop in for some dinner and a few pops, but it’s Friday and the bar is full, expect for one seat next to this portly woman, who gladly offers it up. For those that don’t know me, I’m exceedingly attractive in the Matthew Modine-circa-Visionquest-Days sense, and I’m also silky smooth with the ladies, but for real all I wanted was a salad with some avocado in it. 

 

Anyway.

I sit down, and there’s one mantra I have in life and that’s this: “Don’t talk to people.” It’s simply not worth it. Especially at a bar. Within five minutes, people will start telling you all their deviant/tragic/incriminating sh*t if they think you’ll listen, and people always think I’ll listen. So, I don’t talk to people. 

BUT, some backstory. A few weeks ago—have you guys ever met anyone who didn’t have a chin and their lower faces were basically a sheathe of flesh filled with lubriderm lotion, like their face was made up of a skull with a water ballon taped to the bottom of it? So, yeah, my brother and I, a few weeks ago, were in this bar and a woman with this water balloon condition elected to tell us about how bad her boyfriend was and we were like, wow, harsh, but whatev. Anyway. Tonight I go in there and the water ballon woman whose face looks like that Nazi guy in Raiders of the Lost Ark when they open the Ark of the Covenant is in there with her less attractive friend, whose head is literally like a Jack-O-Lantern that someone painted pink. 

 

So, this is the dilemma. The Jack O Lantern woman is the woman in the seat next to mine and almost immediately she starts to tell me about her cat and I’m trying to not get drawn into a conversation because wtf, but she keeps going on and on about this f*cking cat and I don’t want to hurt her feelings, so I’m basically responding with grunts and nods and sh*t hoping she’d get the hint or whatnot, but ALAS she doesn’t and transitions into telling me about all the cats she had prior to this one and I’m like, ready to die for real.

And here’s the dilemma: I’m getting bumped from my left side (JO’L is on the right) and when I peek over to see who’s bumping me, I see that it’s none other than Dawson’s Creek Michelle Williams (probably) and she’s trying to get my attention, CLEARLY. Now, I love Michelle Williams. LOVE. LOOOOVE. And this woman was either Michelle Williams or a Michelle Williams impersonator and I’m like, this is karma and I’m supposed to lay my seed upon this woman’s fallopian tubules. But, JO’L is now showing me pics on her phone of this cat and I don’t want to hurt her feelings by turning to Michelle Williams, so I’m like, “wow cute cute cat wow” and my hope is that Michelle is able to ascertain the complexity of my predicament and, I don’t know, see that I’m a good guy for not flipping out on Cat Pumpkin Woman, but she doesn’t, and in that moment I’m trying to navigate this situation and Michelle gives up and tells Adam, the bartender, that she’s ready to “settle up” and she throws down a credit card with the Mets logo on it and I’m like, yo, I have a million Mets jokes that would charm Michelle, but I’ve still got Pumpkin Head running a blue steak about this F*CKING CAT OMG.

Denoument: Michelle pays her tab with her Mets credit card and leaves and I let out an audible whimper. I drink two more beers and Cat O’Lantern Head starts asking for my number and the bartender sees my plight and just takes my credit card so I can be loosed into the night where I can step in front of a Metro North train. 

 

Friends, how should I have handled this? 

 

 

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Simple you should have said excuse me to the Cat Pumpkin Woman and politely turned your back on her and started conversing with the hot chic, something tells me you have a thing for fat chics ( they need lovin too)or you were afraid of the hot chic but no need for advice you blew it. 

Did you wreak of a sweaty damp moldy sock maybe your confidence level was low because you smelled like a bum after the gym workout. 

Put a missed connection post on Craigslist and hope like hell the hot chic sees it. 

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5 minutes ago, joewilly12 said:

Simple you should have said excuse me to the Cat Pumpkin Woman and politely turned your back on her and started conversing with the hot chic, something tells me you have a thing for fat chics ( they need lovin too)or you were afraid of the hot chic but no need for advice you blew it. 

Did you wreak of a sweaty damp moldy sock maybe your confidence level was low because you smelled like a bum after the gym workout. 

Put a missed connection post on Craigslist and hope like hell the hot chic sees it. 

This is exceedingly cruel and I reported it for abuse, but fair.

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Well, there's always the rejection hotline (605-475-6968) but that would be flat out mean

All in all … don't sit next to someone you do not want to talk to  

 

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The lady to your left was a hooker. That's the only explanation.

You should have taken the lady on the right home, stopped off for some tender vittles and ... well you are the writer you can figure out the rest of the script.

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5 hours ago, The Crimson King said:

Well, there's always the rejection hotline (605-475-6968) but that would be flat out mean

All in all … don't sit next to someone you do not want to talk to  

 

I guess this is right, in retrospect. There’s a reason that seat was empty in the first place, so I got what I deserved.

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5 hours ago, Maxman said:

The lady to your left was a hooker. That's the only explanation.

You should have taken the lady on the right home, stopped off for some tender vittles and ... well you are the writer you can figure out the rest of the script.

SERIOUS REPLIES ONLY MAXMAN

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2 minutes ago, joewilly12 said:

Surveillance video of T0mShane at the bar @T0mShane

Image result for guy shouting on a roof gifs

This works on so many levels and also eat my dick 😂😂😂

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My God, Tom is hilarious.

Next time give the pause index finger to the JOL and be like "1 sec" (dont be arrogant about it) and turn towards the one you really want to talk to. This way its a polite STFU to the JOL person and she doesnt lose face, and then the Michelle person sees your a guy who knows what he wants and are willing to go for it. You were way too f'ing nice and this Michelle person was probably not intuitive enough or appreciative enough to notice it. Thats gonna happen like every time. So next time go for the kill shot on JOL and get what you really wanted. 

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1 hour ago, Barton said:

My God, Tom is hilarious.

Next time give the pause index finger to the JOL and be like "1 sec" (dont be arrogant about it) and turn towards the one you really want to talk to. This way its a polite STFU to the JOL person and she doesnt lose face, and then the Michelle person sees your a guy who knows what he wants and are willing to go for it. You were way too f'ing nice and this Michelle person was probably not intuitive enough or appreciative enough to notice it. Thats gonna happen like every time. So next time go for the kill shot on JOL and get what you really wanted. 

EB, thank you, brother. I think you’re exactly right. This was helpful

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20 minutes ago, T0mShane said:

EB, thank you, brother. I think you’re exactly right. This was helpful

Tom, you're the f'ing man. You are hilarious. From now on, just go for w/e you are thinking. Dont look back in a few years and go woulda coulda. YOU ARE THE MAN! F it ! 

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12 hours ago, T0mShane said:

SERIOUS REPLIES ONLY MAXMAN

Ok Tom, DCL is here. If this story is true you are a sweet endearing man who should get to leave with the Dime  piece at Least a few times in your life instead of stuck with some Chick sewn together by the scientist from “ A Nightmare before Christmas. “

In that case you have to decide real quick if you want to die by starvation of firing squad. You chose starvation and their some nobility in that obviously recognized by the kindly bartender. Nobodies feelings got hurt, JOL went home thinking you will call and the hotness has little to no recollection of you. That means she doesn’t hate you and since we are all friend here it’s ok to admit that’s gotta be pretty close to a win. 

What you could have done and no I’m not recommending this, I’m simply supplying an option.

Personally I would have ordered 12 orders of wings, 2 Growlers and look at the cat pictures asking to see more commenting on the quality of her pussy cat emphasizing the former eventually creeping her out enough to leave. Win win because I get to eat in peace and she gets to tell her friends from her “ Woman with Moon faces” support group, this short, fat, bald, 144 chicken wing eating fat dude kept asking to see pictures of my pussy.” Then she could feel all good about herself and show the ladies she still has it. The confidence of all the big headed ladies would grow almost to the size of their heads. 

Now back to you Tom: If you really wanted to try to take the sexy home that night you would have to put the cigarette in your mouth, blindfold your eyes and accept your fate. 99% of the time you die 1% you get the story of your life nobody will believe anyways. 

You should have started crying the second the sexy sat down next to you .No Tom, not for the typical reasons but to show your vulnerability. Actually to work the sympthy angle but you work that out for yourself later. 

Then when JOL ask why you are crying  very loudly tell her its because her kitty reminds you of your pet Kitty Tanny that died this fall from the shingles when he busted Nana in Florida. The tell JOL it’s too painful and turn away from her towards the hotness. Hopefully JOL puts her swollen mit on your shoulder and says a quick prayer for your fallen kitty. 

Now: You be facing the hotness and keep sniffling a little. Then just look right at her and straight up ask her,” Do you know what it’s to lose your pussy, do you?” Don’t crack a smile, don’t blink , just stare into her eyes as sincerely as your Irish eyes will carry you. Ok?

Try that next time and hit me up again if you need more help. 

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52 minutes ago, The Crusher said:

Ok Tom, DCL is here. If this story is true you are a sweet endearing man who should get to leave with the Dime  piece at Least a few times in your life instead of stuck with some Chick sewn together by the scientist from “ A Nightmare before Christmas. “

In that case you have to decide real quick if you want to die by starvation of firing squad. You chose starvation and their some nobility in that obviously recognized by the kindly bartender. Nobodies feelings got hurt, JOL went home thinking you will call and the hotness has little to no recollection of you. That means she doesn’t hate you and since we are all friend here it’s ok to admit that’s gotta be pretty close to a win. 

What you could have done and no I’m not recommending this, I’m simply supplying an option.

Personally I would have ordered 12 orders of wings, 2 Growlers and look at the cat pictures asking to see more commenting on the quality of her pussy cat emphasizing the former eventually creeping her out enough to leave. Win win because I get to eat in peace and she gets to tell her friends from her “ Woman with Moon faces” support group, this short, fat, bald, 144 chicken wing eating fat dude kept asking to see pictures of my pussy.” Then she could feel all good about herself and show the ladies she still has it. The confidence of all the big headed ladies would grow almost to the size of their heads. 

Now back to you Tom: If you really wanted to try to take the sexy home that night you would have to put the cigarette in your mouth, blindfold your eyes and accept your fate. 99% of the time you die 1% you get the story of your life nobody will believe anyways. 

You should have started crying the second the sexy sat down next to you .No Tom, not for the typical reasons but to show your vulnerability. Actually to work the sympthy angle but you work that out for yourself later. 

Then when JOL ask why you are crying  very loudly tell her its because her kitty reminds you of your pet Kitty Tanny that died this fall from the shingles when he busted Nana in Florida. The tell JOL it’s too painful and turn away from her towards the hotness. Hopefully JOL puts her swollen mit on your shoulder and says a quick prayer for your fallen kitty. 

Now: You be facing the hotness and keep sniffling a little. Then just look right at her and straight up ask her,” Do you know what it’s to lose your pussy, do you?” Don’t crack a smile, don’t blink , just stare into her eyes as sincerely as your Irish eyes will carry you. Ok?

Try that next time and hit me up again if you need more help. 

I’m in a restaurant reading this and can’t stop laughing lol

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21 hours ago, T0mShane said:

Friends, how should I have handled this? 

Shoulda stepped in front of that train.

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2 hours ago, T0mShane said:

I’m in a restaurant reading this and can’t stop laughing lol

Oh good. Tell Moon Face Dr Crushlove says hi. 

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6 hours ago, T0mShane said:

I’m still apoplectic about this 

This one is so easy.  You pick any cat at random, audibly (so that Dawson’s Creek can hear), say how cute the cat is.  When she turns to look, disgusted that you’re a grown man commenting on dead cats at a bar, you invite her into the conversation by getting her to weigh in on cuteness of said cat.  As she is looking at pumpkin heads phone, you make eye contact with her.  Pumpkin head can’t see your face at this point, and you mouth “HELP ME.”  If she was actually interested, she doesn’t leave and she bails you out.  You begin what ultimately ends 2 months later with her changing her locks and you needing to find a new gym.

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9 hours ago, TeddEY said:

This one is so easy.  You pick any cat at random, audibly (so that Dawson’s Creek can hear), say how cute the cat is.  When she turns to look, disgusted that you’re a grown man commenting on dead cats at a bar, you invite her into the conversation by getting her to weigh in on cuteness of said cat.  As she is looking at pumpkin heads phone, you make eye contact with her.  Pumpkin head can’t see your face at this point, and you mouth “HELP ME.”  If she was actually interested, she doesn’t leave and she bails you out.  You begin what ultimately ends 2 months later with her changing her locks and you needing to find a new gym.

On the plus side, “two months” would constitute a really healthy long-term relationship for me. 😂

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On 12/31/2018 at 4:19 PM, joewilly12 said:

@T0mShane Cant wait to hear about your New Years Eve escapades.

True story: I went to sleep at 9. I got out of work at 5 and stopped into my bar for a few drinks, and the place was filled with all these working men rushing to get a lid on before they went home to their wives. A couple dudes were talking about the Jets job and how they can’t interview anyone until the playoffs are over and—like a fool—I commented that the NFL changed that rule and anyone can be interviewed on the off week. Now, listen, I never tell strangers that I’m a Jets fan because talking about the Jets with people you don’t know gets weird really quick and I can’t handle it. Either they’re die-hard old-timers who want to reminisce about Mickey Shuler for four hours, or they’re casual fans who comment that Rex Ryan was “good” and then twenty minutes later my shirt is off and I’m out on the sidewalk pouring gallons of kerosene on a stack of mutilated corpses. So, anyway, I get drawn into a conversation with these old-timer guys and I got this sense that I was being confronted by the Ghost of Christmas Future because these old dudes were just hardcore sad and angry about the Jets and Bowles, and one of them wanted to hire Bill Parcells and I was like, hey that sounds like me! And then, boom, like, I was in this existential crisis.

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On 1/6/2019 at 11:46 AM, Bugg said:

Do you have any relationship with the barkeep to get the ML's name off the credit card receipt? Then you can ...pursue (stalk?) her properly. 

PS-if you want to stalk the real Michelle Williams, here ya go; 

https://www.nydailynews.com/life-style/real-estate/michelle-williams-moving-ditmas-park-article-1.2275332

I draw the line at straight up stalking. I rely on subterfuge in all areas of my life because I like to pretend I’m a British spy.

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Was at the bar with my brother and a coworker (Zach) tonight and a woman sits down next to me, flush with the crazy eye, and does that thing where she talks loudly to the bartender about her day, including a detail indicating that she has an “ex.” I’m trying to avoid making eye contact because I’m still burned by the events of the Pumpkinhead Travesty. And, also, I think I’m in love with a much younger (25 y/o), but insanely hot, female coworker. So, anyway, the woman tells the bartender she’s a personal trainer who works with MMA fighters and my misogyny takes over and I turn to her and say, “I just have to ask, can you kick my ass?” She doesn’t respond positively to the obvious disrespect of my question, so I try to walk it back by saying, “Because I’m made of iron.” My idiot brother intervenes and starts saying “don’t punch him, he’s kidding, he’s kidding, he’s kidding, Tommy, stop, stop, he’s kidding.” My brother is an unrepentant cock-blocker riven with jealousy for literally any accomplishment I incur, sexual or otherwise, so he’s trying to hose down this moment for me before it reaches its inevitable moment of life-affirming crisis. The woman looks me in the eye and sees my steely resolve. There’s some electricity for real. My brother is all, “HAHA STOP OMG HAHA” and I turn and hold up a “chill out a sec” finger in his face that upsets him and he gets up and leaves. The woman’s name is Lauren, but she goes by “Lolo,” and I think this is fruitful knowledge. Anyway, I assure her that I’m not being sexist, but that I know for a fact that most regular people can’t throw a forceful or accurate punch, and that I’m intrigued by her saying that not only can she throw a punch, but that she trains other people to throw a punch. I’m intrigued! So it’s going well, despite my coworker being tipsy and trying to intervene in the high-voltage sexual/ feminist rage staredown me and Lolo are engaged in, and I’m thinking I should make my move. But then this thing about my other, hot coworker gets up in my head and I sort of stand down, and Lolo’s meh friend shows up (whose face looked like a melted candle) and decides she’s not into Zach, so she pulls Lolo out of the conversation like she’s Dorothy pulling Toto away from one of those flying monkeys. So, I pay up and tell Lolo is was nice to meet her, and that I hope we meet again, and she says, “in a parking lot, in the rain, when I have my gloves.” 

Q: would you have pressed her to punch you in the face? A good old black eye would be a legendary story and I could have gotten a date out of it. 

Q2: was is stupid to antagonize her about her MMA Street cred? Like, that’s kinda rude, but I was looking to initiate a non-superficial response.

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I somehow stumbled into this thread a month late but it has really made my Saturday morning.  I have so many questions but the first obvious one is this....Do you live near Chernobyl?  On multiple occasions you've encountered women at the local saloon who have some degree of JOL condition, Raiders of the Lost Ark nazi guy face or a mug resembling a melted candle.  A little advice -- stick to the beers and don't drink the water in that town.

Back to your OP.  You could tell the conversation with Catwoman (not Halle Berry) wasn't going to be pleasant from the start.  The second that first cat photo is presented you have to cringe, almost as if hit with a sudden case of appendicitis, and avert your eyes as you mumble, "I'm really, really sorry....but my grandmother was killed by a cat.  I just can't look, hear or even think about cats."  As she sits there in stunned silence for a moment, this is where it's perfectly acceptable for you to scan the bar, try to make eye contact with hotties and blink twice for help.  You're not being rude by blatantly looking around at this moment.  When she finally mutters, "Oh...I...uhhh....I'm sorry, I didn't know," that's when you say,  "I know, it's not your fault.  I'm sure your cats are wonderful but the one that killed my grandmother with rabies is still on the loose.  They never found it.  It's still out there and in all reality (pause) it will likely kill again.  So I.....I just can't....I can't really talk about it anymore.  Again, it's not you....I can find another seat at the bar."  At this point you're now obviously the victim in the situation, you've been polite but you've also made it clear that you're so uncomfortable that you're willing to move your seat.  With no other open seats at the bar her only logical accommodation is to refrain from talking with you.

Option 2 to the above - Tell her the grandma story but then punch her in the face.  Mention that you're like Michael J Fox from Back to the Future and that in about a week you're going to have a conversation with a woman in this same bar where you'll pass up the opportunity for a fistfight with a feminist so you're trying to accomplish that here and now since you were triggered by a cat photo.  (She probably won't believe the time travel part)

Thoughts on Michelle....Sigh.  These moments happen to me occasionally although I'm older now and most of my game is stale.  Having been happily married for almost 20 years I do relish conversations with intelligent, attractive women while on business trips or when out for a guys night but I take the ball to about the 10 yard line and have to take a knee.  It's still fun though.  My move in your case, other than trying to blink towards Michelle for help earlier in the conversation with Cat O' Lantern, would totally revolve around the Mets CC.  The second she plops that baby on the bar it's, "No no no...that card isn't accepted here.  Also, there's a 3 drink minimum and you've only had 2.  Yes, I'm counting.  And the third drink is on me.....I'll be paying with my New York Jets Visa Debit card that gets me Reward Points I'll be using for a free hot dog at MetLife stadium when the Jets lose to the Buffalo Bills next Fall."  At this point Michelle is either laughing, feels incredibly sorry for you because of the dead grandmother and your Jets fandom, or she's now looking around the bar blinking for help.

Finally, a request - I'm not going to say we should sticky this thread but would appreciate you revisiting it with future updates, especially about additional evidence of radiation-like symptoms of locals.  You could be the next Erin Brockovich.  More importantly, if you pull another multi-month disappearing act we'll have some clues to go on.

Godspeed, @T0mShane!

 

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On 12/28/2018 at 11:28 PM, T0mShane said:

Hi, my name is Tom and I get into all kinds of sh*t. This one was particularly distressing and I’m wondering if you bros have any perspective that might help me get past the trauma. And, maybe, add tales of woe that we might find instructive.

 

The scenario was thus: My gym is a quarter mile away from my local pub, which i love, so today I decide after the workout to stop in for some dinner and a few pops, but it’s Friday and the bar is full, expect for one seat next to this portly woman, who gladly offers it up. For those that don’t know me, I’m exceedingly attractive in the Matthew Modine-circa-Visionquest-Days sense, and I’m also silky smooth with the ladies, but for real all I wanted was a salad with some avocado in it. 

 

Anyway.

I sit down, and there’s one mantra I have in life and that’s this: “Don’t talk to people.” It’s simply not worth it. Especially at a bar. Within five minutes, people will start telling you all their deviant/tragic/incriminating sh*t if they think you’ll listen, and people always think I’ll listen. So, I don’t talk to people. 

BUT, some backstory. A few weeks ago—have you guys ever met anyone who didn’t have a chin and their lower faces were basically a sheathe of flesh filled with lubriderm lotion, like their face was made up of a skull with a water ballon taped to the bottom of it? So, yeah, my brother and I, a few weeks ago, were in this bar and a woman with this water balloon condition elected to tell us about how bad her boyfriend was and we were like, wow, harsh, but whatev. Anyway. Tonight I go in there and the water ballon woman whose face looks like that Nazi guy in Raiders of the Lost Ark when they open the Ark of the Covenant is in there with her less attractive friend, whose head is literally like a Jack-O-Lantern that someone painted pink. 

 

So, this is the dilemma. The Jack O Lantern woman is the woman in the seat next to mine and almost immediately she starts to tell me about her cat and I’m trying to not get drawn into a conversation because wtf, but she keeps going on and on about this f*cking cat and I don’t want to hurt her feelings, so I’m basically responding with grunts and nods and sh*t hoping she’d get the hint or whatnot, but ALAS she doesn’t and transitions into telling me about all the cats she had prior to this one and I’m like, ready to die for real.

And here’s the dilemma: I’m getting bumped from my left side (JO’L is on the right) and when I peek over to see who’s bumping me, I see that it’s none other than Dawson’s Creek Michelle Williams (probably) and she’s trying to get my attention, CLEARLY. Now, I love Michelle Williams. LOVE. LOOOOVE. And this woman was either Michelle Williams or a Michelle Williams impersonator and I’m like, this is karma and I’m supposed to lay my seed upon this woman’s fallopian tubules. But, JO’L is now showing me pics on her phone of this cat and I don’t want to hurt her feelings by turning to Michelle Williams, so I’m like, “wow cute cute cat wow” and my hope is that Michelle is able to ascertain the complexity of my predicament and, I don’t know, see that I’m a good guy for not flipping out on Cat Pumpkin Woman, but she doesn’t, and in that moment I’m trying to navigate this situation and Michelle gives up and tells Adam, the bartender, that she’s ready to “settle up” and she throws down a credit card with the Mets logo on it and I’m like, yo, I have a million Mets jokes that would charm Michelle, but I’ve still got Pumpkin Head running a blue steak about this F*CKING CAT OMG.

Denoument: Michelle pays her tab with her Mets credit card and leaves and I let out an audible whimper. I drink two more beers and Cat O’Lantern Head starts asking for my number and the bartender sees my plight and just takes my credit card so I can be loosed into the night where I can step in front of a Metro North train. 

 

Friends, how should I have handled this? 

 

 

What exactly is the problem?

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