Off My Game

I knew I was off my game when the guy I was chatting up abruptly pulled a dollar from his wallet and strode towards the bar - where a go-go boy eagerly awaited as his wresting gear strained under the presure of his enormous muscle(s).

I knew my chances were dwindling when the guy expertly slid his single deep into the singlet.

I knew I was going home alone when I heard the guy ask the wrester if he was 'working' after closing.

Sigh. You really can't get a clearer signal that you're not going to hook up than that, can you?

Lesson learned: Wear a wresting singlet.