Choices

March and April of last year, I was e-mailing back and forth with "Ann".
She sent me a few pictures and wasn't entirely repellent.
She mentioned that she was going away for "girls weekend" at the Irish Village on Cape Cod.
http://www.capecod-irishvillage.com/index.shtml
She suggested I meet her there. I gave her a rather non-committal answer.
The week leading up to "girls weekend" was really bad. Lots of bad stuff was happening on both a personal and professional level. I was driving home from Westwood to Boston at 8:00PM Friday, having made the decision to spend the entire weekend in my apartment eating meatball subs in my underwear. As I approached the turn-off that would take me to Boston, I made a snap decision to drive to Cape Cod (about an hour and fifteen minutes away). I realized that I had nothing, no reservation, no toothbrush, no love potion, no "protection", nothin'.
I made it to the Irish Village and strolled into the office. The desk clerk (whose name was Seamus I think) hooked me up with a $40 room. I immediately drove to a convenience store and bought some essentials (toothbrush, toothpaste, and those things...).
I went back to the room and made myself presentable. I headed over to the bar that's on the property not having any idea what to expect.
Walking into the bar, I felt like a T-bone steak being waved in front of a pride of hungry lions. There were a few couples strewn about the bar, but it was mostly "cougars". I have no illusions about my appearance but I was getting "the eye" from perhaps a dozen different women. I knew immediately it was going to be a good night...
The prettiest girl in the bar was up talking to the band (if you can call 2 Irish guys with fiddles a band). I strolled up to the bar and ordered my usual "two Bud Lights please."
Within a few minutes one of the cougars approached and started talking to me. She said her friend (the really hot girl) was going to sing with the band and was wondering if I was willing to sing back-up with her. I said I'd be happy to after a few beers. I told her 19 beers should just about the right number.
After a minute or two, she introduced me around to her friends (who included the lovely Eileen). They were curious who I was with, and I explained my situation. They claimed to have nobody with their group named Ann and invited me to hang out with them. I then told them that if I suddenly started calling myself a different name (Steve Mason) to play along with it. They agreed.
I had a delightful time getting to know Eileen. She was a hospice nurse who lived north of Boston, she also ran an Irish dance studio.
After what seemed to a very short time, last call was announced. Eileen told me that they were having an after-hours party in the "party room" and she invited me.
As Eileen and I were walking over, the subject of relationships came up. She said "How come guys like you never ask me out?" To which I retorted "you'd never go out with a guy like me". Eileen said "You should ask me out and find out." Well I asked her out and she gave me her number.
We got to the "party house" and the cougars were joined by a bunch of guys who were wearing hats with the initials "SFO" on them. I eventually came to learn the SFO stood for the Shit Faced Open, an annual weekend-long golf tournament. I worked the room confident that the hottest girl there wanted to go out with me, and the night was only going to get better.
I struck up a conversation with a lovely girl named Lisa.
As I was talking to her, a few new girls joined the party. Among this new, and obviously intoxicated, group was a big red-headed bruiser with a Red Sox pullover jacket that would have fit me with plenty of room to spare. She made a b-line straight over to the girl I was talking to. Before I could say anything Lisa blurts out: "Ann, have you met my friend Charlie?"
The recognition was almost instantaneous. I went from having nothing but potential with the hottest chick there, to having a shit-faced bruiser in my lap.
I am now faced with a quandary. Do I go with the shit-faced bruiser who's a sure-thing, or do I take a chance with the really hot girl?
Those of you who know me, know how I chose...
The bruiser and I slip out the side door and head to my room.
When I got to my room it became apparent how bombed Ann was. I put her to bed in one of the two beds and I slept in the other. Her snoring convinced me I made the right decision.
The next morning I woke to more snoring. I gathered my few belongings, snuck out, and got some breakfast at the restaurant. As I headed back to my car thinking I had made a clean getaway, I ran smack into Ann. She apologized for her inebriation and promised to make it up to me if I wanted to come back that night. I told her I'd think about it.
I drove back to Boston regretting the entire night. I had to pull-over twice to vomit also.
I called Eileen a few days later and she said she'd been hoping I'd call. I asked her if she'd like to go out and she said she would but first we had to talk. She said that "the rumor around the campfire" was that I had hooked-up with Ann. I explained what happened in a manner that made me look like a hero. She seemed to buy it. I told her I'd call her in a few days to arrange a date.
A week passed and I couldn't find the courage to call her (no booze). She called me a few days later and asked if I'd still like to go out. I said yes and promised to call her in a few days to confirm. I never called her back. Too scared.
Life comes down to a few moments. One can recognize those moments for what they are and act or, one can assume that more and better opportunities will present themselves.
I failed to recognize the opportunity.
C'est la guerre...