Have you ever heard a pickup line so inappropriate, you didn't even know what to do except laugh?
Wednesday night. Me, Stephanie, Mark. Mark and I had been shopping earlier in the evening; the tshirt I started the day with had become, over the course of the day, too stretched out for night-wear. I needed something fresh and clean and svelte, so I bought a new one. The setting: a bar on the east side of Manhattan, where the two of them rarely go; I felt a little subversive, bringing the Greenwich Villagers to the dark side. Muah ha ha ha! We have a whole side room to ourselves, so I take advantage of the relative solitude to quickly slip into my new shirt, and then I sit back down and drink some vodka.
Stephanie: Wow, you have some arm muscles on you!
Me: HA, no, I'm afraid it's just a carefully cultivated optical illusion.
Steph: No really, there's like, definition. Can I see? (and then she makes the universal gesture for "let me squeeze your bicep.")
Me: (laugh) Okay, but you're going to be sorely disappointed.
(She squeezes, my arm predictably goes squashy.)
Steph: Well, that --
Guy Who Walked Over From Bar: Hey! Can I feel that too??
Me: !! Um?
Guy: We were looking at your arms before you changed shirts, and then you changed shirts and we were all so sad that we missed the show!
Me: ...we?
(cut to several other guys still at the bar, waving.)
Guy: I mean, I already wanted to lick your arm when you were still wearing the first shirt! And now...
Me: Umm, haha! Um, HAHAHA! HAHA! Um...Thanks? HAHAHAHA!
Meanwhile, Steph and Mark are laughing themselves silly and I flounder around wildly, trying to think of something to say that can bring this little interaction to a conclusion. All I come up with is more embarrassed laughter, and a few stammered syllables. Finally after several more comments about licking my arms don't result in a "Hey, sure, you wanna??" the guy heads back to the bar, leaving me bewildered and totally blushy and stupid.
Which is totally why bars on the east side of Manhattan are totally awesome.