Dear B: You Need to Learn to Be a Better Wingman

When I was on the dating scene I had the best wingman. Actually I had a few. We knew what our jobs were as wingmen - RESCUE, RESCUE, RESCUE. This could be in the form of redirecting the attacker, redirecting the situation, taking one for the team, making introductions, etc. You name it, we did it.

WE WERE THERE FOR EACH OTHER.

Now, I am married and I have a built in wingman. Isn't that what a life partner is supposed to do? Support their spouse? Be their backup? I thought so as well. I am here to tell you, however, my wingman is missing a wing or two.

It all started when I somehow became part of the committee to plan my 20 year high school reunion.* I am not entirely sure how this happened other than I responded in a Facebook thread something like "let me know if you need anything" and now I am on a committee of four and responsible for one fourth of the down payment for the hall? Well, then.

Anyhow, the "committee" decided they needed to meet in person to get things rolling. It turns out that the head girl lives just two blocks from me. It also turned out that they wanted to have the meeting at a favorite restaurant of B's.

Perfect.

The Plan

B and I would go have dinner at the restaurant an hour before the meeting was to take place. He would then leave me at the meeting and the girl that lived a couple blocks away would drive me home. I told him to be near his phone in case I needed a rescue. You know, like a wingman.

Perfect.

The Problem

I didn't tell anyone but B about this plan. Therefore, the girl that lived nearby had no clue that I was relying upon her to get me home.

Second problem - two of the four were stay at home moms who hit the jackpot with this meeting in that they could stay out late and drink. Me? I had court in the morning. So as the "meeting" dragged on through multiple glasses of wine and on to coffees with Bailey's, I started to get worried that I would never make it home.

When the head girl decided she was going to read off all 223 names of the people we graduated with to see if we remembered them, the third girl smartly ran off because she had to work in the morning. She was too quick for me. Plus she lived in an entirely different direction.

The Solution

My wingman will save me, I thought. I covertly texted B:

"Can you please come get me?"

This was at 10 pm. The "meeting" started at 7 pm. The coffees were ordered at 10:30. My phone remained silent despite my checking it for messages every 2.3 seconds.

The Result

Over one hour after the original text, B calls. I answer it at the table speaking in code:

B: Why didn't you call me?

Me: Because.

B: I would have came right away.

Me: Can you assist at all?

B: Give me five minutes.

I spent the next 15 trying to figure out how to extract myself from the situation** without being obvious.

I then spent the next 10 minutes berating B's wingman skills. B did make some valuable suggestions such as:

"Why didn't you just tell them you were supposed to call me at X time to pick you up and then call you?"

It was obvious that I was trapped and in unnatural surroundings. The exhuastion of having to pretend I vividly remembered 222 other people, every teacher we ever had, and the last school play took all of my brain cells. B is lucky I remembered his number. Well, actually I am lucky. Also, side note, B does not know my phone number. At all. Wrap your brain around that for a minute.

Anyhow, it's official. B is no wingman. That is why next time I am sending him to the committee meeting as my proxy.

Bet he learns my number after that.

*Damn that makes me sound old!

**Everytime I hear "the situation" in any situation, I think of the Jersey Shore. Damn you MTV with your mindless brainwashing.