A guy from Liverpool is hitting on the waitress/manager at a bar I’m sitting at. The waitress is sweet, and usually good about politely shutting people down, but English is her third or fourth language. She doesn’t have much of an accent, but struggles sometimes with expressions/phrases.
His buddy keeps twitching around and laughing, “heeheehee”, through his nose while his mouth is partly open.
He’s regaling her with his stories of his life, his (ex?) wife, and his sexual exploits. He’s clearly interested in her; as he said, “You had me at hello.”
“What? Is that something you say in Liverpool? I’ve never heard that before?” she asks as his friend laughs wildly.
“That’s why I said it passionately as soon as I walked in,” says the Liverpoolian.
“You had me at hello? I...don’t understand. What does that mean?”
“It means you had me...at Hello,” he explains.
She turns to her fellow waitstaff person (a friend of mine who I’m dying to ask “is this guy for real?” in Spanish once I have the chance), who explains that the expression means he “loved her as soon as he walked in the door.” Cue awkward silence.
“Did I tell you all how I met me wife?” he asks, trying to cover up the awkward moment.
“I don’t think I want to know,” she answers sweetly. “That’s personal,” she says as the other guy laughs creepily.
He talks about how he met her, about having their kids, etc., and then the subsequent divorce. This takes about 3 minutes solid of him talking.
“But then I met a 23 year old two weeks [after my divorce], so that eased the blow a bit.”
“What happened to her?”
“She got hit on by a golf pro and left me for him, but he beat her, and now she regrets it. She called me wanting to get back together, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Oh...” says the waitress.
“We had sex 3 or 4 times...I impressed her in so many ways,” he boasts as his friend continues to giggle and put his arm up over his head, almost like he’s raising his hand in class, but then bends it behind his head, all while swaying/twisting back and forth.
“He’s s-s-s-s-sooo impressive,” says the twitchy friend. “Heeeheeeheehehehehe,” he laughs, again.
“So, what do you do?...I mean, besides being a bad actor?” she asks.
“Well, I’m a [soccer] coach. And...you know, I panhandle and sell me ass to rich ladies in Aspen,” he explains.
I’m fairly sure the last two jobs are not really jobs.
Oh gawd. Now he’s staring at me. When I look up, he averts his eyes to act like he’s looking at the T.V. Good think he probably doesn’t have xray vision and can’t see that I’m writing about him.
Shit. He speaks Spanish, so I can’t talk shit about him to the waiter friend of mine.
ETA: He just paid and as he was leaving he asked “You’re not mad are you?” She was being perfectly polite to him, but not accepting his advances. Guy swayed out of here two minutes ago.