First part Here

Trying to help Trevor with his social life is like trying to fight a wall.

We finally made it through the rampaging hoards of revellers and took root at the bar.
Trev nudged me and said

“I’ll get these in. It’s the least I could do, seeing as you’ve come all the way to here to help me out”

And I thought to myself “No Trev, the least you could do is just stand there all night, quietly looking slow of mind, doing nothing.” Which is exactly what he did, until i stepped in and had to take control of the situation by actively attracting the attention of the horribly overworked bar staff.

As soon as the barman turned away to fetch our drinks, a nymphish little bundle of sexual energy and body glitter dressed in a fairy costume sidled up next to me and said with a gigantic smile


And I said

“Hello” and alarm bells began to ring, because she was far too pretty to be approaching me, especially when I was standing that close to Trev.

“It’s my birthday!”

“Oh, great. Happy birthday”

And she gave me a big hug and said

“Awwwww, Thankyou.”

And then she pulled away and looked at me, smiling. And I looked at her, confused. And there was a pause.

And after a few seconds with nothing to else to say to this attractive woman who just hugged me I said

“So. Do you want a drink?”

And as if by magic the bartender returned with our drinks, and said “Anything else”

So she said
“Oh, great. Thanks, and a double vodka and coke please.”

And she hugged me again. Unfortunately it wasn’t an enjoyable hug because as I glanced over her shoulder I could see a gigantic monstrostity of a human looking impossibly stern sitting at the end of the bar. His whole face and body was tensed up in rigid anger. He was staring directly into my eyes, projecting with every fibre of his being a look that told me “If you try and instigate any further interactions with this friendly young lady, I will leap across the bar and kill you and your pudgy little friend with my bare hands”

I saw that as a clear indication to move on. I was out alphaed. We positioned ourselves standing by a table on the main thoroughfare between the bar and the dancefloor. It was slightly less obnoxiously loud there. You could just about talk without having to shout and spit all over whoever is trying to listen to you. A constant stream of people was surging back and forth to reload on drinks. It seemed like as good a place as any to cast out some sort of seedy little sex net.

We stood there for what felt like an eternity not doing anything, save for occasionally pointing out someone and saying “She looks nice”, until I got fed up and thought I had better try something. Anything.

I told Trev to wait there, and to just act normal, and waded out into the human traffic. I had no idea what I was going to do, I was just feeling terribly awkward standing with Trev, pointing and conferring about how attractive the various females in the room were. I got about 10 feet away from where I was standing and sighed. This felt like an impossible task that I was far too far involved in to back down from now, so I just chose some poor passing woman to be our unfortunate prey, and opened my mouth and started talking.

I didn’t know quite how to phrase whatever weird little proposal I was clumsily drumming up in my mind so I just pointed, and said

“My friend over there wants to buy you a drink”

She didn’t even bother looking over to see who this friend might be, she just looked at me and said “What? Are you both 12?” and went about her business.

Rather than assess the situation to try and figure out if my opening could be improved, or if anything could be done to make this plan any less of an epic failure, I just slogged on, and tried the exact same line again on another passer by.

She at least had the decency to glance over at Trevor, who was staring at us intently, smiling that smile of his, and coyly waving. I cringed. I didn’t think such a plan could have been ****ed up any more royally than it already was, but Trev managed it just by being him.

She looked back at me with much less contempt than the previous woman, and said through a vaguely friendly smile.

“Oh, thanks but no thanks.”

Overcome with desperation that I shouldn’t even have been feeling in the first place I said

“why not?”

And quick as a flash, drizzled with impatient sarcasm, through a blatantly fake smile she said

“Oh, I don’t know. For all I know he could be a serial killer”

Her fear was hardly unfounded. He certainly has that look about him. I had no real way of countering such a logical argument. So I just said

“Well. You are going to feel very silly when it turns out that he isn’t.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t a cute understanding charmed laugh, it was definitely flecked with pity and tinged with an “I don’t have time for this shit” attitude.

After three more quick and unfruitful interactions like that, with Trev standing in my periphery, looking on pathetic and forlorn. I decided to change tack. This was ridiculous. I felt too much like his mum trying to finagle him a place on an unwilling football team. I didn’t want to envision that he has a mum and family that loves him. I didn’t want to have to bask in the reflected guilt and disappointment that I am 100% sure she must constantly exude from every single pore, 100% of the time. I guess I’m just too empathetic for my own good.

I felt certain that that bash and hope tactic would have worked eventually, I just didn’t have the will to see it through to the end.
I rejoined him at our table. He looked hopeful, I think. He always looks vaguely hopeful. I didn’t want to tell him just how badly it went.

“Trev mate… **** this. I’m not Hitch. You should really be doing this on your own. Just go and start talking to someone.”

“Its all about making yourself seem like the alpha male, just start bigging yourself up to everyone, until someone sleeps with you, and then run far away before the lies start to reveal themselves. Its easy”

“but literally, what words should I say”

I snapped back. I cant help snapping at Trev sometimes, he just drives me to it

“Oh, for ****s sake mate, I don’t know. Hello?
I’m not here to write a script for you. Just pick someone, anyone and introduce yourself or something, or ask if they want a drink.”

His face hardened, and he nodded like he understood. Like it was all clear to him now. Bolstered with confidence he stepped up and set his sights on a cute, smiley, confident looking blonde in a flowery dress who was making her way to the bar. He was punching well above his weight, but I left him to it any way, who knew what would happen?
--------------------i'm definitely the alphaest male here--------------------
Last edited by FunkasPuck at Oct 18, 2011,
He stepped in her path. She looked at him, they made eye contact. He said a friendly


And she smiled back, and carried on walking, and Trev came back to me with his face, as filled a face like his can be, with pride and accomplishment.

“Did you see that Fin? I got a smile. That was a result”

I suppose, yeah. It was an outcome at least. And not a humiliating one. I hoped that It was just enough momentum for me to be working with for the moment.

“Ok, great. Excellent. When she gets back from the bar start a conversation.”

We’ll see if we cant wrap this up nice and early. Unlikely, but stranger things have happened.

“About what?”

“Trev, you aren’t making this easy for me. Talk about something you like, something you are interested in.”


He nodded, but didn’t seem so sure.

“But obviously, don’t talk about sci-fi, or anime or pretty much any of those weird hobbies you have.”

His nodding got slower.

“Oh, and for Christ’s sake, don’t mention your kids, it’ll just freak her out.”

He looked genuinely hurt and surprised.

“But, my kids are good kids. I’m proud of them”

Trev, a single woman of a certain age doesn’t want kids that she doesn’t even own making her life hell. She is going to want quality time with her man, and that doesn’t include a bunch of shithead teenagers fouling up every weekend plan.

“But they live with Helen…They’re good kids.”

“Look, I’m telling you mate. Just don’t mention them, ok? Talk about something else.”

I turned him round and firmly sent him on his way.

The cute blonde was walking back from the bar, arms bent at the elbow clasping a bevy of drinks to her chest, a bottle on every finger tip. I pushed him in her path. They made eyecontact. Trev swallowed, composed himself, smiled his thin wide vacant smile and said, slightly too loudly but at least vaguely confidently.

“can I buy you a drink?”

She smiled back a polite “Are you taking the piss?” smile and said. “No, thankyou” and tried to keep walking.

Trev must’ve panicked because he stepped into her pathway, and just said

“I have kids.”

And she looked confused. And Trev must’ve seen this, because he tried to dig himself out of a hole by qualifying that statement with.

“Oh! But I hardly ever see them”

Her face and body tensed up in instant disgust and she turned her nose up and walked away.

He stood for a little while, staring at nobody in particular, smiling, and then shuffled back over to where I was standing.

“That didn’t go so well did it?”

Too much went wrong with that interaction for me to want to even attempt to break it all down for him. I just spun him back round, grabbed his shoulders and ushered him back out towards the world,

“Ok, so that went bad. You’ll get it. There’s no time to dick around, its getting late. Quick fire, quick fire, quick fire. Law of averages and all that. You ready to go again?

“Well, maybe I could just…”

I pushed him, probably a little too eagerly, into the path of another beer bottle manicured, five pint beauty that was rolling off the production line. He must’ve lost his footing because he tripped and slammed into her. All ten bottles shot from the ends of her fingers like fizzy tailed rockets, some of them smashed. All of them drenched their feet and legs. The room all erupted into a chorus of “Wahey”s, as is standard practice when a glass is smashed in a pub or club, then went back to their business, leaving The two of them arguing in a pile of spilt booze and broken glass.

I backed away slowly from the situation. She was livid, he was apologising frantically and reaching for his wallet. I went outside for a cigarette. He’ll find me. He always does.

I took the chance to spend this time alone, thinking.

Trevor deserves a bit of happiness, and if a woman is what’s going to do it, then so be it. I personally think he’s wrong. It might work in the short term, but she’ll leave him like they all do. And he’ll be knocked back down. He’s a fragile guy. The chances of him meeting a lunatic woman in a place like this is very high. The damaged ones are the easiest pickings. The lowest hanging fruit. Somewhere in here there is a woman that Trev could successfully seduce, but those women are exactly the type we are trying to avoid to prevent from plunging this poor guy further into a living hell.

Eventually he found me, and just looking at him be, just watching him shuffling around bumping into people and silently mouthing sorries without making eye contact made me realise what an impossible task this really was, and that I should probably just try to minimise my efforts before the whole fiasco makes me any more bitter and angry than I already am.

I swung wildly at the first reasonably feasible excuse for getting him to go away

“I’ve been thinking Trev, This tight wing-manning thing can only go so far before all the women will think we are a couple of gays.”

In a misguided flash of inspiration he said

“Well, I read in cosmopolitan I believe it was, that ladies really like gay men.”

While this seems to be true, Trevor is far to pitiful to even get some sympathy cooze from a ropey old fag hag.

Women like trendy inoffensive gays that aren’t going to prey on them, save for some drunken fumblings after an evening of crying over relationship difficulties.

Women don’t like shambolic old queens, who dress like IT technicians, which at a glance and push, is what category I would put a homosexual Trevor into.

He’s not beauty salon swish, he’s public toilet sleazy, at best.

All this having to talk compounded with the fact that I was growing sick of the sight of him, so I said

“no Trev, that’s not going to work. We need to split up. Go forth grasshopper. Go and see if you can chat some one up. I’m going to hit the dancefloor and see if anyone grinds up against me.

“I could try that with you”

No, Trev, listen to yourself. Repeat what I just said”

“I’m going to hit the dancefloor and see if someone grinds up against me?”

“Exactly! You sound disgusting and risk alienating yourself from everyone.
Look mate, I think you would probably work best trying to talk to someone, over in those dark corners.

Oh, and if in doubt: ask for ID. Seriously mate.

I managed to find a relatively unsoiled looking female on the outskirts of the dancefloor.
She was a bubbly bottle blonde in a ridiculously short black dress. I spun her round, took her by the hips and we headed out into the hot sweaty sea of people spasming and twitching wildly to a claustrophobic techno pounding. I got to enjoy an hour of her dancing badly and trying to devour my thigh with her crotch before she apparently turned bad and started to smell.
Midnight sobered me up and in my mind, her bejewelled undercarriage turned back into some trampled old pumpkin.

I shook it off and forced a smile. Then I took this opportunity to remember Trevor. I scanned the dancefloor and didn’t see him, and thought I had better go and see if he was ok. I indicated two minutes to the girl and made the smoking gesture, and backed away. She didn’t seem too bothered. She just continued throwing shapes and was absorbed into the throng of polo shirts that hover around the dancing couples waiting to pounce. She was still smiling, so I was happy enough to call this a draw. I got to escape, and she looked happy enough being tossed around and squeezed like a deflating beachball.
--------------------i'm definitely the alphaest male here--------------------
I ventured back inside and managed to find him. He was sitting on the leather sofas in one of the air-conditioned chillout alcoves, talking to someone. An actual woman.
I was shocked, but happy for him.
That is until I reached the two of them chatting happily and realised just who he was talking to.

“Oh, Hi Fin. How’s it going? We were just chatting about Sonic.”
He turned back to her

“Fin might be able to help us out here. Fin: Sonic 2 or Sonic 3? Which one is better and why?”

I tried to speak but there were no words. She smiled at me. She still smiled.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not. You know. Introductions”

He was stammering and mumbling, but I didn’t even have the will to tell him to spit it out. By now I realised I must’ve been staring at her, so I blinked and shook my head.

“This is my old friend, Fin. Fin, this is my new friend Maria”

I still didn’t quite know what to say. I just started talking when it seemed like the right time.

“Actually, we know eachother…”

“How have you been Fin?”

I met Maria about a year and a half ago. We met in a coffee shop. Usually I like to isolate myself from the world when I’m out and about, but the place was packed and she either didn’t notice or chose to ignore my dishevelled appearance and aggressive standoffish body language, and she asked to sit at my table. I was disarmed totally by her amazing smile, and said yes. Then she pulled out a copy of naked lunch, and I ignored all my dearly held beliefs about bothering people in public especially when they are reading, and I started a conversation about Burroughs. And we chatted, and laughed, and shared interests and anecdotes and fragments of our personality And that was that. We clicked. It all seemed too much like fate. In a world as cold and unfriendly as this one, a beautiful person with a fabulous personality approaching you with warmth and an opportunity to start a conversation on one of your favourite books is an impossibly rare blessing. Considering that we don’t live in a ****ing Sandra Bullock film. So when the time finally came for us to leave, I asked for her number, and it wasn’t awkward. It seemed right. I felt comfortable enough with her to just outright ask. And she gave it to me. And I started seeing her.

She is fantastic. She is everything that every other girl in stackers isn’t. Why she was there in the first place is beyond me. She is funny, intelligent, genuinely beautiful in a non painted bronze way. She is gorgeous, she had a wonderful brain, dark sense of humour and she seemed like one of the few people I’ve met who can tolerate my bullshit with what felt like acceptance and warmth and the love.

Or that’s what I learned from her in the 19 glorious weeks that I was seeing her before I stopped phoning her. I don’t know why I did it. I have a problem.

She was still smiling. Still friendly. But she definitely remembered me. I couldn’t tell yet if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Depends which part of me sticks most prominently in her mind.

“Good. Good, thanks. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well.”

“Good. Good.”

Still smiling.

“I didn’t know you came here…”

“I don’t often, I was here with some friends I haven’t seen In a while, but they all wanted to dance to this hideous music. Thankfully I found Trevor sitting here on his own. He’s been keeping my company. We’ve been trying to work out some of the worlds most pressing and important problems”

“Well, Sonic 2 had a MUCH better soundtrack”

She laughed.

“Agreed, but Sonic 3 had Knuckles.”

They resumed their conversation.
I was suddenly gripped with fear. Of all the women in the world who could have come in to this particular place on this particular night, why did the only one who was willing to give Trevor anything more than a passing glance or a fleeting smile Maria?
My rational brain knew it wouldn’t, but my emotional brain suddenly became terrified that this evening would turn out to be successful. What if she thought his borderline autistic weirdness was actually cute and endearing quirkiness. What if she thought his ridiculous fashion sense was some sort of well thought out statement on something or other. I felt as though God himself was ****ing with me. I needed to do something. Despite the slimness of his chances, I needed a way to put the kibosh on this whole situation.
I didn’t want to have to pull him to one side and tell him to back off. That would have taken too much explaining.
There are definitely certain unwritten rules about this sort of thing, but rather than waste time writing them all down for someone as inept as Trevor, I figured it would be far easier just to sabotage him.

Still more. at some point.
--------------------i'm definitely the alphaest male here--------------------
I have a big, super-fluffy, handsome all-grey cat named Fin sitting at my side currently. But I didn't read this, I simply saw the name Fin at the top of your second post and had to inform you of the coincidence. You already know how I feel about this story (considering my first post on your submission of part 1) so I think I'll pass on reading part 2. I did briefly, so briefly skim a bit of this and it looks very solid and well-written.... so cheers on that.
This is great. I started part 1 thinking it would be a quick read before I went to bed and now I've finished reading both parts and want more. Something about this drew me in. Looking forward to part 3
I hate sigs with a quote in them
Thanks all
--------------------i'm definitely the alphaest male here--------------------