What Poor Luck.

I rarely ever use the term DB. Or D.. for that matter. But for some reason I’ve had a few recent encounters in which the only appropriate word I can use to help describe them is in fact DB. (I think you will figure out what this word actually is once you read the remainder of this post…)

DB #1 : A few weekends ago, I went out with a few friends to grab some drinks at a neighborhood bar. As one bar closed, we headed over to another to continue the night. Four of us remained from the first crowd and we were standing at a high top enjoying our cheaper drinks. A random guy walks up to me and asks me what my friend’s name is. I’m super happy to play winglady to a friend who’s newly single, so I try to help out. I introduce the two, but there’s obviously no hope for this dude. The first thing he does is whispers in her ear and asks her to name three interesting facts about herself. Lame and completely stupid pick-up line. She brushes him off and turns away. But he doesn’t get the message and sticks around. To continue the entertainment, I ask him some random equally stupid questions. Some kind of light bulb went off in his head thinking perhaps not all hope is lost: “Oh, I guess I’m hitting on you now.” Are you f-ing kidding me!? No one is interested, buddy. D-B.

DB #2 : The next weekend I went out with the same group of friends. We meet up with other friends at a crowded sports bar. This one guy who knows this other guy who is the boyfriend of a girl my friend knows shows up with his very cougar friend. In an attempt to be friendly and integrate, I strike up a conversation with boyfriend guy who talks me into sitting with the unknown group of friends. I ask how he knows some of the people in the party. He tells me the cougar dater is some kind of professional poker player. And that’s all he does. Apparently he does pretty well with winnings. And this couple is thinking of going to Vegas this evening. OK. Whatever. I somehow start talking to Mr. Poker Player (aka cougar-dater), I find out that he knows one of the other fellas through high school… not college like everyone else. I ask where he went to school, he said Stanford but he dropped out. HOLD UP.

me: Stanford is a great school, why did you drop out??
CD: Well I had a full ride.
me: (thinking wtf) Even more reason not to drop out…
CD: Well, I figured out that I didn’t need to spend thousands of dollars a year when I can make $600,000 a month without a degree.

Wait a second. You SO DO NOT make $600K a month, and if you did, there is no reason you need to tell me that in our first conversation. PLUS – what was the point of telling me you had a full ride if you wasted it??  You are OBVIOUSLY showing off, but sorry dude, I am SO NOT impressed. I then had an urgent need to excuse myself from this conversation. And I figure out that the first dude is enamored by this guy. NO WONDER he would disclose this kind of info to me like that. How terribly unlucky. Two BIG FAT DB’s in one night at the same table.

DB #3 : Last week I was invited to a work-related happy hour to mingle and network with Chicago-area partners. It was a nice time and I met many nice people. A few people from the party decide to stay out and we head to drinks and dinner. Unfortunately one member in our group turns out to be a huge D. He is completely self-important and oblivious to uncomfortable silences.  All night he talks about how cool he is, how great his neighborhood is, his knowledge of all things worth knowing, the important meetings he has, his magical ability to get into sold-out concerts all over the world… and simply wouldn’t pick up that none of the rest of us were impressed. At all. I was SO excited to get in the car and go home. DB averted at last.