The meatless night

Last night I stuffed my cheeks with an ungodly amount of meat, and no it wasn't that kind of meat you sickos. A part of me wishes it had been, but then there's the good Brooke, who knows that would have been bad, and guilt inducing. Who likes to feel guilty anyway except maybe Joe Paterno, and it clearly killed him. No, instead, I went to dinner with 3 of my girlfriends. These three ladies, of whom, I feel like I can pretty much say anything around, are friends of mine from church. They are not the goody two shoes that I thought they once were. In fact, they all have issues, like most of us single ladies do.
While we were at the table, my friend, who was sitting across from me was having a staring contest with a seemingly eligible bachelor at another table nearby. I'm sure she was mentally undressing him, and smearing wildflower honey all over his rippling muscles and licking it off. Gross. He wasn't that cute to me, but she thought he was. You would have thought she was enjoying the flirting with him more than the mounds of bloody flank steak that was served by incredibly cute, and barely legal boys who looked like they were extras from the Pirates of the Caribbean. I fully enjoyed sexually harassing them all. They loved coming to our table. Making jokes about their sexy accents to them was the highlight of my night, and they really loved my request to bring back the loin cloth. I think we got special attention because we were such a fun table.
And all of this...sans booze. Go me. Yes, it's been almost 3 weeks since I've had a drink. I wasn't a big lush, just a small one. But I realized, and this is very personal, but since when did I have any secrets, I realized that alcohol is, you should write this one down, bad for your health. Wow. Seriously though, the stark realization came when I realized that it did nothing for me. If I need to drink around people to make them more interesting, then I need new friends. Point blank. And if they need to get wasted while they're around me, then they can deal with their own hangover, while I skip across the front lawn doing cartwheels because I will feel great, and they will feel like shit. I really am just saying all this to make myself feel better, because I know that drinking really does liven things up on occasion. Either way. I made the decision to quit drinking, and I guess I am proud of myself.
Back to the cute boys I was imagining in loin cloths. They whisked around the tables with their meat, no not THAT meat. Man, you are sick. There is something seriously phallic about pulling a juicy piece of meat from a knife with a little tong from some handsome young boy with a beautiful South American or Italian accent. It was pretty sexy-the whole ordeal. I loved it.
My friend, who was playing imaginary footsie with this boy across the room from us, was in full control. She made all the right moves, I guess. What do I know? I have no clue how to play games. I usually fowl out the first quarter. I gave up on the games a long time ago. I know everyone says that games keep men interested, but I feel like if he isn't interested in what I am, then I don't need to waste my time trying to lure him in. Plain and simple. If a man is not enamored with me, I could care less these days. I might change my mind on that by the time I go to bed, but I doubt it very seriously.
She whisked her long, flowing hair out of her face just the right amount of times. She stared him down, and let him know she was interested, and then guess what happened.
He approached our table. That must have taken some big kahunas. One man, with horse teeth, his breath probably wreaking of apples, from having eaten them all his life, approached a four-top of beautiful, I'm being generous with myself, I fully think the others are gorgeous though, intelligent, funny, witty women with nothing but a handshake and an introduction. I have to give it to him. The man had some balls. He confidently introduced himself, asked Courtney if she was going to have a drink elsewhere, and then after she gave him a polite nope, he left with his pals.
Here's where he went wrong. He didn't introduce himself to all of us, and he didn't introduce any of his friends, who were an ear away and could have just waved hello. He didn't give Courtney his card or his number written on a napkin, which would have been so Pretty Woman. He didn't even ask for hers.
But here's the real clincher. After he left with his pals, I asked my friend why she didn't give him her card. She instantly was slapping her forehead. Mandy and I were like, "Oh well. Another one bites the dust" but the other half of the table were ready to chase him down to the Epicenter, which was not right outside the front door, which was as far as I would have walked for that scenario. OHHHH No. Absolutely not. A woman never chases a man down- unless it's her husband. It just looks desperate. If a man is walking away from you with no means of further contact, he is not interested enough, and therefore not worth wasting any thought on. Take a chance some might think. Who knows he could have been the one. Nope. "The one" wouldn't walk off like that. He would make sure he knew how to get in touch with you.
When I got home last night, I was on Twitter, another time stealer that I've reluctantly, but quickly found myself fully immersed in, I came across an article that I felt all women should read. It actually prompted this post. Women are keeping men lazy by allowing men to text for dates. They are repeatedly texting invitations for encounters. And what's worse? We are responding to them.  There's no reason a man should hide behind the screen. A smart woman wants a man who can lead her with great confidence, and should accept nothing shy of it.
I guess the truth here is in the caramel truffle with two small scoops of raspberry sorbet on the side, which was one of our heavenly desserts, the best of the two actually. The truth is this. Men who care show they care. Women will know it when a man cares. And if you are ever left hanging in the breeze by a man, he is just not good enough for you. Don't worry one minute over a man who keeps you wondering, because it's not really a game to him- it's the truth- he's just not that interested.