The Cult of Melinda

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Saturday, January 20, 2007

FLASHBACK: The Melinda Moment

Okay, I said I'd explain the "Melinda moment" or "pulling a Melinda". Let's just say I'm not extraordinarily gifted at picking up certain social cues, especially romantic ones. I have been known, on rare occasions... Okay, stop the snickering... to completely miss the fact, obvious to EVERYONE within range, that a woman is flirting with me.

It typically goes like this. I'm at a club with friends when a woman comes up and starts a conversation. I'm friendly and polite and treat her the same as pretty much everyone who strikes up a conversation with me. Often, she's rather hot, but... being a "gentleman"... I try to pretend that I don't notice. So, she wraps up the conversation and walks off, which leads one of my not-very helpful friends to walk over and read me the riot act.
"Melinda! What was wrong with her? Why didn't you go for it?"

"Huh? Nothing was wrong with her. She was hot! Not to mention rather intelligent and funny! It was definitely a struggle not to drool."

"Then, why didn't you go for it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"She was hitting on you!"

"No, she wasn't. That woman was waaaaaay out of my league."

"Dude! She was freaking hitting on you! We were all watching, waiting to see what you'd do!"

"Huh? Fuck! Could you find a way to tell me these things BEFORE I screw up?!!! Jeez!"

Or to be more specific, here's a real-life Melinda moment for you to enjoy. I met MacKenzie in college, when we were both living in the dorm and hanging in the same crowd of wild and crazy friends. MacKenzie is... well...



Yeah. I know. Anyway, MacKenzie was the source of quite a few Melinda moments, some of which I'm too much of a gentleman to go into. A couple of weeks after meeting MacKenzie, a little birdy told me that she was all excited about the fact that I was kind of into the "MacKenzie Butt," a legendary phenomenon unfortunately not visible in the pic. This gave me ideas, ideas I would not have acted upon were it not for "Ladies' Night." For those of you not familiar with Ladies' Night, this is a night when, for a few hours, women drink free.

Free liquor and an "Indian liver" as my friend Alfred calls me don't go well together. I get intoxicated rather easily and begin to behave rather strangely... even for me. I am suddenly unbelievably cool, the absolute life of the party, and capable of trying and getting away with almost anything. Really.

So, one night, my freaky friends and I were at Ladies' Night kicking back when an odd question came to my mind. Mackenzie had just gotten a new piercing, a spike protruding oh so dangerously (in a sexy way) from just below her lower lip. How, I wondered, can you kiss with a spike sticking out like that? Hmmmmmmmmmm.... Sans alcohol, I probably would have just asked. With alcohol, I proclaimed, "There's something I've just got to know!" Then, I kissed her.

Kissing MacKenzie is... Well, there are far too many appropriate toe-curling, stomach-tingling, mind-blowing cliches that apply here. Anyway, due to Major Cock Blockage, MacKenzie and I never went beyond kissing. But kissing MacKenzie as often as possible became my Holy Grail. Unfortunately, it's impossible to stay drunk ALL the time.

One night, some friends of ours drug us to a death metal concert. Neither MacKenzie nor I were very impressed. So, we decided to leave and head over to the gayest greasy spoon on the planet, The French Quarter's own Clover Leaf Grill. After some great food and awesome conversation, we went for a walk.

For the first time ever, I would share what I considered the most romantic place in the Quarter with a woman who wasn't the future wife of one of my friends. It's hard to describe and I don't have pictures. Along Decatur Street is a long strip of French and Spanish colonial buildings that now operate as restaurants, bars, book stores, candy shops, etc. One building has an archway leading to a long winding passageway between it and another in the back, filled with greenery, wrought iron benches, interesting old brass statues dotted here and there, and a wishing well. The wishing well was my goal but it's was dry! Dry!

So, in a spontaneous moment, I led MacKenzie around to the Boardwalk that followed the less trafficed part of the Mississippi as it ran along the French Quarter. There, along the river, in the moonlight and silence, I pulled a couple of quarters out of my pocket and told her to make a wish. We both tossed our coins toward the river. Mine went in. MacKenzie's bounced off the rocks below.

It occurred to me in that moment, as I turned to look at her, that I could make my wish come true. I could kiss her... sober! And maybe, just maybe (okay probably) MacKenzie would kiss me back.

Instead, I muttered something about getting back before our friends came looking for us and headed back in the direction of the bar. THAT is a Melinda moment.

Sucks to be me.

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