I decided to look for a wingman (or a wingman trainer).
Is it a wingman if your buddy is female? Wingwoman? Wingperson? Winged one?
Grant it, with me it’s more like “wing-and-a-prayer”-man, but this could be important.
Do you audition for these? Put up a notice on Craig’s list? Could I force one of my friends into training?
Right now, my friend B is my wingette. She sort of got trapped into the job.
I was looking fabulous… well, kind of hot… ok, appealing in an untamed sort of way… alright, fine.. sort of matronly. Let’s not focus on me, here.
I was waiting for B to arrive at brunch when I spied a table featuring some appealing maleness. Being completely incapable of doing anything about this by myself, I turned to the time honored tradition of whispering to my friend, Wingette.
First, the key question– does he like girls?
Wingette survey says: Yes!
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Next question, are he and his friend waiting for girlfriends, or at least female companions that are of no blood relation?
We had a brief scare when a woman with a baby stroller pulled up near the table. Let’s face it– that would be my luck. If I can choose an unavailable male, I will. But in the end stroller lady was parked at a nearby table. Whew.
Of course, all of this was being observed with the utmost of care. My frantic turns to look over my shoulder with a half body twist and tilt probably went completely unnoticed. This is where B really came in handy– she had a nearly clear view. All she had to do was occasionally pop up like a mole to get a good look.
So, I’m tilting and twisting and she’s popping, when the guys were joined by more guys. Apparently, a manly brunch was ensuing.
Excellent. All systems go. Here we go… Any moment now…
Yeah, we had no idea what to do.
Now, B is a hot blond, so I thought I’d throw her into them somehow. Of course, I wouldn’t have told her this first, just for the true air of authenticity. Can’t have her faking the sprawl across the table. But also, she’s married. So, I figured if I send her in, they’d be crushed with disappointment that they couldn’t have her, and then I could swoop in and charm them with my availability.
But in reality, I wasn’t sure what I was swooping in to do exactly.
She and I decided to go for a casual, slightly saucy walk by on the way out.
So, naturally, they were gone by the time we got outside.
Yeah, we need some training.
P.S. A moment of silence to mark the passing of Max, George Clooney’s beloved pet pig.