Well fellas, this is a bit of a double Wingman story but I have less of a role than the true wingman involved. I am out with two very close friends and of course we meet some broads. There was a group of them to start but to make a long story short, there are two left. One is a 10 who has taken a liking to my one buddy and the other is a train wreck and is kind of indifferent to the whole thing. Well, as good wingmen, we need to keep the whale entertained while my one friend works the babe and that we do. We keep everyone in drinks and keep the big one laughing but we are both dreading when the time comes to leave. Like good soldiers sent into hell under reluctance, we dance, we sing, and we send out vibes we didn’t even know existed to this sweaty mess because we can see that our buddy is making progress with the babe but she has made it painfully obvious that she is not being separated from Jabba the Hut.. The glimmer of good news here is that it is becoming clear that the “bus” has finally taken a shine to one of us and under the good grace of sweet Baby Jebuz, it ain’t me. My other pal realizes this and swallows his pride as he sees a long evening ahead of him. Is this where my involvement ends? Fuck no! Although relieved, I do realize that I do have duties as a secondary wingman. Once we get the go ahead to head back to wherever these tarts live, I immediately take the reigns and arrange a cab and go even one further and got everyone a slice of pizza….guess who ate theirs and her friends??? We get to their dumpy townhouse and all the hot one would talk about was if the big one was okay with everything. I am putting out potential fires like nobody’s business and finally send my lucky buddy upstairs with his lady who is still yelling at fatty to see if all is well. I look at my other friend and he, without missing a beat, knew exactly what to do. He started making out with the big one like his plane was going down. We both knew if we gave them anymore time to talk that this party may end with both of them sitting on the bathroom floor crying so action had to be taken. At this point they retire to her “cubicle”….that’s right…..her bedroom was made of cubicle partitions in a shitty basement. I could hear every slosh and gurgle and was just happy it wasn’t me going through it….although I would if it meant helping out a brother!