February 04, 2006

Anything You Want

It started out as a joke. Just a couple of intoxicated people having a little fun. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. No one was supposed to get hurt! When it stopped being a joke, and started being an obsession, I really couldn't tell you. Who ever can though? You don't plan on this kind of shit happening. It just sort of does. God! I wish it could have been different—for all of us, for everyone. I really do! I wish that fateful day in September never happened! Then, perhaps, we wouldn't be in this quagmire that we find ourselves in now. Things would have been different—no, better. I guess there's no point in regretting it now. Destiny had its way with us that warm autumn night, and nothing would ever be the same again. Either way, dear reader, I owe you an explanation. I owe you the truth!

Like I said, it wasn't supposed to be a big deal. My roommates and I were just going to go to the CalSO reunion the night before the Homecoming Game and have fun. Meet old friends, blow off some steam from work, have a couple drinks, and have one last foray into that slovenly, squalid pizza place we all knew back when we were undergrads (La Val's)—that was all that was on the agenda. Then everything changed: G-Unit came up with the idea of passing out business cards to be über-corporate, and equally sleazy.

I'll admit it: I really liked the idea. I had just gotten a whole box of business cards, and was just itching to use them. And honestly, what's a better use for business cards than passing them out to incredibly attractive, and equally unattainable women? They were invented for that very purpose! One thing kept bugging me though: if there was any chance of closing the deal (if you know what I mean), it couldn't be that impersonal. Normally I would have just written my cell phone number on the back, but unfortunately, my cell phone number is already on my card. It would have to be something else. Something that was the right combination of witty, cute, risqué, and sleazy.

It came to me without much thought—the quintessential saying that encompassed all I wanted it to: Anything you want, with the anything underlined twice. It was perfect. As suggestive as it was ambiguous, it could have meant anything or nothing at all.

Eager to try my hand at being the typical corporate asshole at a bar, I searched vainly for some unsuspecting woman to test the new tactic on. It wasn't meant to be that night, however. We spent almost all of our time hanging out with people we knew, and well, hitting on your friends (as fun as that is), is not nearly as fun as hitting on strangers.

Worse, the opportunity remained just as elusive the entire fall and through the winter. Bar after bar, club after club, event after event, I searched unsuccessfully for an appropriate time to offer some unsuspecting woman anything she wanted. But each time, something wasn't right. The girl wasn't pretty enough, or I wasn't intoxicated enough, or maybe the stars weren't aligned. Who the hell knows? What the hell does it even matter?

Just as I had began to give up hope of ever being the sleazy corporate asshole I was born to be, the opportunity presented itself out of nowhere this past week, as I was sitting at a bar in Los Angeles, having a drink with a friend. A woman next to us started up a conversation with us, and even stayed on after we had bought her a drink (whoa!). She fit the bill: very pretty, flirty, and sort of tipsy. It was perfect.

As the clock struck midnight, I realized I had a flight at 8 am the next morning and this would be the ideal time to part ways, with contact information slyly passed on a compact business card. I got up off the stool, saying I had to go, and reached for my wallet to pay my tab. While the bartender was charging my card, I rifled in my wallet, ready to whip out a business card . . .

. . . and realized, I didn't have one on me! I had passed mine all out at the recruiting event I had been at previously!

Shit! What?! Why?! Why does this always happen?! To add salt to open wounds, she asked me, Do you have a business card? No. No, ma'am, I don't. Believe me, if I did, I would have offered you anything you wanted.

And so ends yet another potentially sordid tale in the only way it can: with me at a computer, lamenting the could have, should have, would have. But believe you me, this isn't over just yet! I know she's out there: some unlucky girl just waiting to be offered anything she wants. She is out there and I will find her! You just wait, dear readers. Some day, some time, it will happen. I know it will! It has to! I have faith! I want to believe.