An Open Letter to the Douche Who Put The Moves on My Girlfriend at the Bar Last Night
I can appreciate why you wanted to put the moves on my girlfriend; she is, after all, very attractive. In fact, I found myself in a similar situation five years ago, which is why-and-how I’ve come to write you this letter offering a few suggestions.
If your purpose was to undermine me during the conversation she and I was having at the time, fine, but it would be wise to wait for me to start talking before interrupting to inquire about what the tattoo on her shoulder said. While it was a pretty smooth move, it hinted at your inability to read if not your apparent nearsightedness, as you were unable to decipher its meaning from a distance of roughly three inches. This also leads one to question the efficacy you had as a sniper in the Marines (thank you for your service).
Perhaps your myopia contributes to your deficient skills of observation. For example, the next time you see a woman drinking Glenfiddich, do not buy her a Bud Light. Hedge your bets by at least ordering a Jack-and-Coke. Also, be careful when assuming one’s ethnicity. I see what you were trying to do when you said you didn’t support The Wall, but my girlfriend is Japanese, not Mexican, which I realize you’d be “totally cool with” if she were.
I get why you’d want a lady at the bar to know that you’re unattached, but slipping that information in by letting her know your daughter was taken by CPS is probably not the best way to do it. I can see how you would think this is a twofer, as it allowed you to segue into military history by way of the opiate addiction, but I’d suggest your best course of action is to not bring this up at all on your next meet cute.
And yes, while your arms were sufficiently and demonstrably bigger and stronger than my own, the passion which which you discussed them at length (as well as how you use them to drive your truck and shoot your guns) has no doubt disappointed other women you’ve met in similar fashion who have not read the work of Alfred Adler.
Now, this is just my opinion, but if you’re going to use your “absolute favorite song of all time” as an excuse to vigorously yank on a woman’s arm and ask her to dance, at least know a little bit about it. Admittedly, “Wagon Wheel” is a pretty good song, but that doesn’t make Darius Rucker the greatest songwriter of our generation, or even the writer of “the song that is the theme song of your life.” To that end, I would suggest diversifying your tastes. I understand that neo-redneckery is en vogue, but I would think that wearing nuchal Oakleys kind of obscures your whole colophon.
Anyway, I hope these suggestions find you well.
Best of luck,