The Sordid Case of Mr. Blue, Part I

I have had many an occasion over the years to wonder what men are thinking, but the event that occurred last Friday night takes the cake. To fully appreciate the severity of Friday night's events, a bit of background is needed.

I have lots of marvelous friends, which shouldn't surprise anyone reading this blog. Upon the occasion of one said friend's birthday celebration, I met a gentlemen whom I will call Mr. Blue. Mr. Blue seemed like a nice fellow; however, he was married, so I paid him little mind. I saw Mr. Blue from time to time until I learned of his impending divorce. Now, Mr. Blue seemed rather interested in me, dear reader, and I was willing to give him an opportunity to woo me.

The same evening I discovered Mr. Blue was soon to be single, he asked me for my phone number. Despite having my phone number in his possession, Mr. Blue did not phone me. He did, however, friend request me on Facebook. Mr. Blue also asked after me when he saw our mutual friend, the aforementioned birthday boy and his girlfriend. Let's call the birthday boy BB and his girlfriend C.

Is everyone comfortable with the background? Well, then, let's begin The Sordid Case of Mr. Blue.

Friday night began like any evening spent with friends. My friend L and I were attending a party together, so we met at my house and then headed downtown. Our plan was to spend a bit of time at the party, then meet up with our good friend C. At around 11PM, L and I head to the south part of town to join C, BB and some of BB's friends, including Mr. Blue, who, not surprisingly, has asked if I will be in attendance.

When L and I arrive, Mr. Blue cannot seem to take his eyes off of me. Every time I look in his direction, he is looking at me. Every time L looks at him, he is looking at me. Every time C looks at me, he is, you got it, looking at me. This goes on for nearly an hour before BB sends Mr. Blue a text saying something to the effect of "What the F is wrong with you?" Mr. Blue then walks over to me and begins to chat me up. At this point, I'm honestly not sure how interested I am in Mr. Blue. He does seem a bit socially awkward, but I like to give a guy a fair chance. I chat with him and with other friends until the bar closes. We then decide to head to one of the other attendee's house. Let's call her The Mrs.

Here's a bit about The Mrs.: she is trashed and missing her husband, who has been away for work for a while. She is loving on everyone in attendance - guys and girls alike. And did I mention how drunk she is? Well, she is really, really drunk.

Being sober, I drive The Mrs., Mr. Blue and L to The Mrs's house. Soon after we get there, I suggest we sit in the living room. I sit on one end of the couch. My girl L sits on the other end, cleverly leaving a spot for Mr. Blue. BB and C sit across the room, and The Mrs. plops down on my lap. My left arm is pinned behind her back and her arm is behind my back. She is perpendicular to me on the sofa with her feet in the space between L and me. When Mr. Blue comes in the room, I suggest that The Mrs. move her feet so that Mr. Blue can sit down. She does and puts her legs on Mr. Blue's lap.

Mr. Blue goes to put his arm around me. I'm surprised. Mr. Blue is making a move. Good for him, I think.

But I mistaken.

Mr. Blue didn't put his arm around me so much as he rested his arm on my shoulders. His hand landed squarely on The Mrs.'s neck. I'm surprised by this. Hadn't he spent the last hour simply staring at me? I am more surprised, however, when he starts rubbing her neck and puts his hand on her leg. I am, you've got it, even more surprised still when she starts rubbing his chest. (I should pause to say that I think she would have rubbed any one's chest - if only they would have let her - this includes me, BB, C and L. Heck, I think she would've rubbed the sofa's chest, if only it had one.) I quickly extricate my arm from behind The Mrs.'s back and lean forward just to see if he realizes he's not touching me. This move doesn't seem to change anything.

So there I am, holding a glass of water with two hands trying not to get in the way of the two people on either side of me who are rubbing on one another. Can we all say awkward? If there ever was an occasion that called for a drink, this was it.