It was a Tuesday night in San Diego and I was out at the bars celebrating moving into my new place with one of my female room-mates and her friends. The night was set to be a taco Tuesday adventure.
Many of the bars in San Diego have great drink and food specials (tacos obviously) on Tuesday nights to get students and young professionals out and in the “spending mood.” With deals like “$3 you-call-its” or “$5 endless tacos,” you don’t exactly have to twist anyone’s arm to get them out to have fun.
We started our night off at a few of the slower paced and lounge-type drinking holes, each of us gulped down a number of drinks at each bar before we ended up at a place called Typhoon. Typhoon was a bar made for “the younger crowd.” When I say younger, I mean 16-20 year-olds with fake IDs or girls who are of age but act like 16-20 year olds.
This place was tricky; most of the girls were incredibly attractive, but also incredibly unapproachable. This was a venue where girls went to have their “girls’ night out.” In case there’s any mystery, these nights entail spending the evening dancing and drinking exclusively with the people in their group. Often times girls in these groups relished in the act of turning down men because it made them feel more selective and desired. Many groups of these girls were adverse to meeting new people and generally it took a little more effort to break down the unnecessary wall most people put up around their ego. On the off chance you did get a conversation going with one of these types it was like talking a brick wall. Whatever the reason for it, the hassle of talking to men they hadn’t met before was clearly a foreign concept to many of the girls in that kind of place. Which led Typhoon to also become home to the most damning, awkward, and effortless rejection-moves I’ve ever encountered. In fact, it was born and named by me in this very bar.
The art of giving “the San Diego spin” is unmistakably the most awkward way to tell a guy “I’m not interested.” Picture a somewhat crowded beach bar, a man spots one or more females not talking to anyone and decides he wants to engage them in conversation. While taking one last sip of his drink, the man conjures up a bit of courage, and sets off on an approach in attempts to start a duologue. The first “line” is delivered with style and enthusiasm and normally after that it’s assumed the girl would respond in one of two ways; she likes it or hates it. If she likes it her demeanor is positive and she makes an effort at a retort. In most any other places, if the girls hate it, they make up an excuse or say they’re not interested.
In this town, if they don’t like what they’re hearing, they might unleash a “San Diego spin.” Imagine a brief blank stare as if they couldn’t understand what you just said, you may even think they’re going to say, “I don’t speak English.” If it’s more than one girl, they may even give that look to each other for just a moment giving each other the same dumbfounded look without speaking a word. Then silently, as if rehearsed and perhaps previously choreographed, they silently turn 180 degrees. Often this half spin can be seen coupled with an eye roll or even a hair flip.
I liken it to the intellectual equivalent of an ostrich burying its head in the sand. The assumption is made that the guy will leave because it appears that she’s no longer in sight. It makes for an especially awkward moment for the guy given the silence and lack of explanation in response to his efforts to have a conversation. Interestingly enough, although the girl thinks she’s just asserted her “power-move,” she leaves herself open to the guy to further the strange situation into the territory of bizarre or even uncomfortable as he’s still just standing right there behind them.
Now I’ve tried every line to combat the “San Diego Spin”:
-“do you hear better when you face that way?”
-“I normally charge $30 to braid hair, tell you what I’ll braid half for free then we talk prices ok?”
-“I think the back of you looks great too, that’s pretty much why I came over here.”
-“This is an odd way of asking me to dance, I like your style.”
Etc… All of which have failed to elicit a reaction usually due to vapid nature and mental retardation of most of the bitches out there. But I digress, back to the bar Typhoon itself.
It’s a relatively spacious venue with seating in the front. It even has an open area for people to smoke cigarettes in booth seats or at smaller tables. There were a total of four bars within this place, two separate bar stations in the front and two in the back. Typhoon, like any “beach-bar/club” was loud, poorly lit, and packed to gills most nights; especially on the tiny dance floor. The music selection was pretty consistently euro-pop, 80’s rock/dance music, and the occasional rap song. Spot lights with reds and pinks swirled around the inside lending itself to a crowd that did a lot of fist pumping and high-fiving.
Our group of six strolled in lightly buzzed around 10:00 PM. We snaked our way through the crowd to the back of the establishment and eventually posted up on bar stools behind the bar beside the dance floor. I made an effort to continue conversing with my new female room-mate but I started to get tired of competing with the volume of the music just to make idle “chit-chat.”
Yelling over a Michael Jackson song, I leaned into my roommate Allison, “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m going to wonder around for a bit.”
Just before breaking off, I glanced over to see nobody in the entire group was actually speaking to each other; they were just content bobbing their heads to music, looking around, and sipping drinks. What a fucking waste of a night.
I wondered towards the front of bar in hopes of finding myself a cigarette but not before downing a beer, a shot, and a few sips of a mixed drink.
I’d managed to bum a cigarette as the drinks began to catch up with me. I initiated a few conversations and I wound up talking with a random couple and a small handful of girls for a good while.
I quickly identified the girls that wanted guys to buy them drinks all night. “Will you buy me and my friends’ shots?” I’d often hear as I laughed and moved on.
These girls were usually spotted by the look of perpetual annoyance on their faces until you agreed to buy them something. Even if you did buy the group of four or five a round of shots, none of the girls stuck around to talk when they realized that you were not planning on affording them the luxury of drinking for free the remainder of the night.
A few more double jack-and-cokes later and I was feeling the alcohol take effect. I’d made a few quality exchanges but I wasn’t thrilled about being there anymore. I’m a conversationalist by nature and I wasn’t really doing enough ground work with any one girl to make the night interesting. On my lap around the bar I ran into one of the guys I knew who I considered a quality wingman and a few of his friends. We all agreed that the bar was not going to produce a quality night and if we were to succeed in having any fun, our best chances were at the bar across the street. As we set off towards the front of the bar to leave, I attempted to finish my drink while walking. I was only a mere ten steps from the front door when a gorgeous girl with long chestnut brown hair stepped in my way.
She grabbed the collar of my shirt and sheepishly asked with a thick Brazilian accent, “Why are you leaving so soon?”
She sipped her drink locking eyes with me while slowly forming a mischievous smile.
I was nearly dumbfounded that anyone would decide to pick me out of a crowd especially as I was on my way out, much less this girl. It was absolutely worth a minute of my time.
“I’m going to the bar across the street with some friends,” I said looking at her and then looking back towards my friends who hadn’t waited for me. “But I guess you just gave me a reason stick around.”
“You have to speak a lit-tole` slower,” She said smiling looking me up and down, “my English is not, erm, a very good yet. You are a very cute!” She said biting her lip.
I started to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. This girl was a total smoke show; she was a 22 year old 5’7 gorgeous exotic looking Brazilian girl. She had long light brown hair with dark mysterious eyes and her body was perfect, all the right curves fitting into skin tight jeans and a low cut shirt. Let’s call her Stephanie.
“Amazing,” I thought and I may have even blurted out loud.
“Hey here is my friend; she is from Brazil with me.” Stephanie said taking me by the hand, pulling me a few feet to further from the door. I glanced over and saw a woman that looked like a toad with red hair that might as well have been ten years older.
“That’s your room mate?” I asked feeling a little disappointed.
I made a brief introduction and went back to trying to figure out how I was going to seal the deal with Stephanie.
Time passed as Stephanie and I started to talk about where we were from and how we ended up in San Diego. She told me she was in San Diego studying. After another minute of chatting the two girls begin to talk in Portuguese.
“I wish I knew what you kids were saying,” I said trying to smile while scratching my head. The older one seemed to have an agenda and I couldn’t tell if she’s mad, wanted to leave, or was just a strange kind of lady.
I started to ask her about the program she was in and while in mid sentence Stephanie batted her eyes at me and pushed closer. I lost my train of thought as she slowly leaned in, closing her eyes. Time slowed down around me just like the circus scene in the movie Big Fish.
We continued to kiss for a few minutes. I’m not sure how it happened but it just did.
Another minute of brief conversation separated by more kissing went by and I was in disbelief of how easy this was. The world around me disappeared for a moment and it was just me and this gorgeous Brazilian girl. This kind of thing never happened to me. As we continued to talk and kiss, I started to notice out of the corner of my eye an older man in his mid 60’s posted up further away at the side of the bar watching us intently. I turned us slightly to get a better angle, at first I thought he was just a weirdo perving on young people at a beach bar, but it seemed like more than that.
It was also clear that he was unmistakably out of place in that bar. There wasn’t a soul there besides him that was over the age of 25 so I was suspicious. As the conversation heated up, I kept one of my eyes open mid kissing to see what the strange old man was up. In the midst of one of our passionate make-outs the older man got off his stool at the bar and walked up to the roommate to exchange a few words with her. He then turned around and took his seat back at by the bar. This was weird.
Pulling away slowly from a very long passionate kiss, Stephanie looked into my eyes and said softly, “I want to have a sex with you, emm, for eight hours. Right now.”
Alarms were going off in my head. Something wasn’t right. This girl seems to be completely blown away by me and wanted to get crazy right away. I’m no day at the beach, but I’m a reasonably good looking guy who has it in him to get into something like this every once in a while. But I hadn’t put in any work to get to where things were headed, this was highly unsual. My best asset is my words and therefore I never considered using my looks as a means to do the talking for me. This type of thing never falls in my lap this easily, I’m just not that lucky.
“I want a sex with all of your body,” Stephanie said, gently rubbing my chest and neck.
I started to laugh a little, “Aggressive aren’t we? I live less than two blocks away, we could easily walk to my house right now and maybe be back here before last call.” I said sliding my hands down her lower back to discover there was definitely reason person Google the term “Hot Brazilian ass.”
“Wow, you’ve got a nice butt,” I said, “I mean that thing is nice, I want to be friends with it.” I realized as soon as the words left my lips that my Ron Burgundy reference was a million miles over her head and there was probably a zero percent chance that she had ever seen Anchorman.
“I cannot go to your place, you must come to my house in little Italy.” She said caressing my neck with her finger tips, “I can’t leave my friend behind, she must stay with me.”
I pulled her closer into me by the belt loops of her jeans while motioning towards the exit with my head, “But it’s just right there, we can be there in less than five minutes.”
I just couldn’t seem to figure out why she wouldn’t just want to go with me to my place, it’s so much closer. Her house was at least a 25 minute cab ride away closer to the downtown area of San Diego.
“I’ve got to be at work in the morning,” I said smiling while palming her ass, “I can drop you off on my way to work.”
She began to feeling my stomach and continued to tell me how bad she wanted me. The roommate looked more irritated, said something in Portuguese as we leaned in to kiss again. I glanced over to see the old man was still far away eyeballing us but he also appeared more impatient. By now she was groping my body all over; her hands grazed my belt and waist. We were making quite a little scene in the bar but I didn’t mind. Without looking I immediately noticed she had worked one of her hands into the top of my front pocket and was in the process of slowly pulling my wallet out of my jeans while the other hand was distracting me by working the family jewels. She was trying to make off with my wallet!
My hand snapped down onto her wrist, I twisted it while raising it up to eye level. Her facial expression went from surprise to fear.
“What is this?!” I asked throwing her wrist off to the side, stepping back. “YOU WERE TRYING TO ROB ME?!”
She put on a big puppy dog look, “You don’t want to fuck me?”
I started to laugh.
“YOU MUST BE JOKING?!” I yelled angrily backing up a few more steps, “Are you trying to tell me that you weren’t trying to take my wallet just now?!”
I directed both hands in a “show her what she’s won” gesture towards the wallet hanging halfway out of my jeans.
She stepped closer and tried to come in for an embrace as I blocked her, “I don’t understand?” She said trying to remain in her sexy character.
I retreated backwards into an empty booth and scooted against the wall.
“You think you’re real fucking clever don’t you?” I asked accusingly as she sat down at the edge of the booth with big puppy dog eyes.
“What is this? Are you some pick-pocketer or something?” I barked glaring at her.
Stephanie shook her head, “No-no, I promise. I want give a lot of sex with you. We can go now, to little Italy.”
“You’ve got some nerve,” I said raising my voice even louder, attracting some attention as I noticed she didn’t like the additional eyes on her.
“Tell that bitch roommate of yours to come over here and empty her purse and if she doesn’t have more than two wallets or a weapon in there, I’ll go home in a cab with you right now.”
Her face went pale. “We don’t need to do that,” she said softly while losing some of her accent and lowering her eyes in guilt.
With my back to the wall she slid into the booth and got a little closer still not making eye contact.
“Did you assume I was that drunk or just that stupid?” I said pissed off and starting to realize I was definitely not getting lucky tonight. I checked my phone to see if it was even worth trying to go to the bar across the street to meet up with my buddies. Looking up, the old man was now standing on the tips of his toes to get a better look.
Stephanie slowly leaned in and began to kiss my ear. My leg started tapping the floor like thumper from the movie Bambi, “If you come now, I’ll let you fuck me and my roommate.”
Turning my head away from her I caught the eyes of the old guy who had positioned himself on a stool even closer in an attempt to get a better look at what was going on.
“And who the fuck is THAT GUY?” I roared straightening up and doing an exaggerated first down arm motion in his direction.
He practically fell off his bar stool when he realized I was pointing directly at him. He put down his drink nearly tripping over his own feet and disappeared deep into the back of the bar.
Without turning around she shook her head and said, “I don’t know him.”
“Oh bullshit,” I groaned.
“Please, if you come now I will let you do anything to me” She said grabbing for my crotch.
“Tell you what sweetheart, give me your number and I’ll call you for lunch before you head back to Brazil.” I said with a tone of self-satisfaction having completely uncovered this con job.
She nodded while still rubbing my dick as I took out my phone, “Ok, its 5-5-5…”
I practically lost it, “Oh would you get fucked already!” I shouted pushing past her out of the booth.
This girl actually tried to give me a 555 area code.
I pulled one of my business cards out and tossed it in her direction.
“If you’re actually real and this has been a big misunderstanding, feel free to call. Otherwise, kindly fuck-off!” I barked her direction as I turned and briskly walked out of the bar pissed off and annoyed.
I was a short distance up the street and decided to stop to burn a cigarette to reflect and decompress a bit after my long night. I shook my head as I blew plumes of smoke into the air.
“What kind of bullshit night was this?” I thought to myself.
I was about to turn to walk home when I spotted Stephanie coming out of the bar followed by her roommate, and the old guy. They were obviously working as a team and they were all leaving together.
“Son of a bitch…” I blurted out.
Just across the street, two police cruisers were parked waiting for the bars to let out. They were there to make sure there wasn’t any late night trouble and sometimes they got off on hassling the drunk people that stuck around too late. I quickly made my way across the street, walked up to one of the cop cars, and tapped on the window.
The window slowly lowered to reveal a stern looking middle aged cop who didn’t appear to be pleased that I was interrupting his prime pretty girl watching time. I took a deep breath, “Let me preface this by saying, yes, I’ve been drinking. I just had a girl try to steal my wallet out of my pocket then she tried to invite me downtown in a really shady way to a place that I felt like I might have run into some deep trouble. Do these things happen or am I just being really paranoid?”
The cop half chuckled, “You’re lucky buddy that happens about half a dozen times a week. Usually they use the pretty girl as bait and she’ll lead the guy to a room where a bunch a guys are waiting. They beat the guy up real bad then take his money. Usually they’ll drive around to different ATMs and get you to max out all your cards. If you’re lucky they’ll drop you somewhere shady and keep your ID so they can come find you if you try to talk to the police.”
My legs almost buckled. “You’re kidding? I can point the girl out right now, she just left the bar, we can still catch her!” I exclaimed half turning ready to run up the street and finally become a drunken crime fighter.
Shaking his head very matter-of-factly, the cop calmly said, “We have to catch her in the act to prove anything. In other words, it’s not going to happen.”
A puzzled look came over my face, “Well what happens to the next guy that doesn’t figure out it’s a con job and gets totally fucked?”
“Sucks to be him, doesn’t it?” said the cop laughing as the window slowly rolled up.
I walked home confused. Given the right timing or day of the week, there’s not much that would have saved me from finding my dick in the dirt and putting myself in a world of trouble. If this was a Friday or Saturday I may not have been so lucky. Beware of offers of love or money that seem too good to be true, especially if it’s from a hot Brazilian girl.