Coffee is for closers only

Last night at work, we held a premiere party for the Geffen Theatre's production of the new David Mamet play, Boston Marriage.

Plenty of celebs, again.

Mamet, his wife Rebecca Pidgeon (who looks much better in real life than on screen), Alicia Silverstone (who had two geeks with Clueless posters waiting outside hoping for autographs), Mary Steenburgen, her hubby Ted Danson, Diane Lane (cutie!), her hubby Josh Brolin (gestures too much when talking, makes him look crazy), Darren Starr, and a couple of Mamet's go to character actors whose names I don't know off hand.

The night was easy, and sponsored by Bacardi, so I was downing mojitos in the slow periods.

Lots of fabulous looking women. I was carrying trays of food and drinks, so I talked with many. Small work chit-chat, but I tried to talk more as practice for my bet.

Two, my co-bettor has decided, actually count.

The first was one of the girls from the theatre who was hosting the party.

We were uncorking wine when the four decorating ladies arrived.

I said, Ladies, I've been expecting you. I just opened the wine, and I thought that might bring you.

One of the girls was confused and answered, No, we are the... people for the event.

I said, I know. I was kidding. I am the... comedian.

Then, one of them stepped forward. Tall, dark, and in a shimmery, clingy blue dress that stopped me for sure.

The dress laid so perfectly on her hips (a very sexy feature) that I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I looked down, and noticed a tattoo of a peach on her ankle.

I thought about my task. I timidly said, I like your tattoo.

She didn't hear me. I thought better of talking to her, and let fate tell me I shouldn't have tried.

Later, though, I told fate to kiss off. She was standing alone, and I walked right up to her and repeated my compliment. She seemed taken aback at first, but smiled and said thank you.

I told her if she needed anything to come to me. I thought that would be charming, but it turned out that everytime somebody spilled something, I was her go to guy.

eh, it's my job.

I felt like talking more to her, but while cleaning up one of the spills, a soap star (I don't know who, and don't care) started to hit on her.

She was polite, but you could tell she didn't care. He asked her if she knew who he was. Seriously. Can you believe that is one of his lines?

She said no, but also said she was pretty stupid when it came to celebrities.

He then said, get this, you should know.

My god. What an ass.

He asked her if she was single, and she said no, she was married. He then pointed at me, cleaning up a spilled drink, and said, What, to him?

Like it would be such an embarrassment to be married to the schlep cleaning. I stood tall and stared him down. She smiled and said no.

I said, You're lucky. I hope they realized I was talking to him as being lucky I didn't kick his ass, and not saying she was lucky for not being married to me.

They stopped talking, and she stopped asking me to clean. At the end of the night, she thanked me. I don't know if it was a general thank you, or specific, but she made her way to me and thanked me.

The second was a girl at the party, who I brought food to. She was a vegetarian, and asked for something she could eat. I told her I would get her something, and then offered her my tray of meatballs.

She laughed, catching the joke, and told me if I got a minute, to hang out with her. I was funny, she said.

I returned several times, bringing food or drinks, and each time she would stop the conversation to talk to me. I would make lame jokes, but she laughed.

At the end of the night, I saw her outside, and, thinking she was leaving, I poked my head out the door, and wished her goodnight. She said, I'm not leaving.

So, not knowing what else to say, I said, Well, see you in the morning then.

She laughed again, but both of us had no idea what that meant. I cut my losses, and left.

I didn't think they should count, because the whole point was for me to try and get numbers or dates, but my co-bettor said the whole point is just to make me talk to women, where as before I might not have.

So, I guess I'm doing that, and it isn't as scary or harmful as you might think.

So, three down.

They were easy ones though. Like dipping your toe in the pool. Now it is time to swim. Got to go for the real deal.

Actually, the rejection isn't what scares me. It's what I do if she likes me that has me sweating.