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Alcohol is my sticking point

Alcohol is my sticking point

by Matt Savage

Saturday night started off to be very promising as we gathered our troops together for a night of going down in flames. I was dressed in a snazzy new outfit which was composed of older pieces of clothing that have been sitting idle in my closet. We had a plan to hit up a live show at a small venue near Boston University, likely to be filled with hot babes ripe for the picking.

As soon as I stepped out the door, the plan had changed. I was to meet one of my friends at the local tavern where he insisted on getting dinner and drinks to pre-game. I was reluctant, wanting to stick to the original plan, but soon gave in with his promise of being quick. So, I met him and my other wing, Stick, at the local watering hole.

Two 22oz. beers later we were entrenched in a darts game with no hope of getting to the show. We decided it best just to stick to the local bars in an attempt to not waste time on logistics. We finished our darts game and after being at the first bar for over three hours (with no attractive targets) decided to hit the next venue.

A quick jaunt down the street finds us at our next watering hole. This place, though slightly better in terms of females than the last was still disappointingly barren. The only thing to do were make conversation amongst ourselves and drink our beers.

We decided to finally hop in a cab and head closer towards one of the nearest college bars where there were sure to be some HBs. The next bar was far superior in quantity and quality of women, it was time to game. I opened several sets of HBs and rotated my time between the three sets. Eventually, I was blown out of two of these sets. The third, a two set, with HBboobs was looking quite promising.

Unfortunately, by the time I started showing signs of a solid pick up artist I had already consumed copious amounts of booze. I am not sure what ended up transpiring with HBboobs because the fire water has burnt this part of my memory from existence. From what I was told the next morning, I ended up mumbling some sort of incoherent drivel in an attempt to get the girl’s phone number only to be shot down with a look of disgust. Apparently, we had also went to yet another bar, in which I preceded to try to fight a guy three times my size. Luckily, cooler heads prevailed and I was not pummeled into the ground (thank-you wingmen). Somehow I ended up in my bed only to awake to a floor covered in potato chips.

So what went wrong with this night? Clearly, my over eagerness to drink got the better of me and my game suffered severely for it, basically it’s a bit of a drinking problem. Recently, I have been toning down my drinking so that I may be wittier in my bar conversations, however tonight was just shameful. If I truly want to be a man capable of sweeping women off their feet, It’ll be necessary that I not become an intoxicated fool.

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