Poor Andrew

Andrew was the victim of something I’ve never seen before in my life on Saturday night. I’ve never seen a man be sexually abused by a woman before.

Scott, Chris, Andrew and I decided to go for a drink at Maxfield’s. It was a nice night, so we went out on the deck that overlooks the water. Not 10 minutes out there a group of 30-45(?) year old women come out to enjoy themselves.

And Andrew.

For some reason, this group of older women had moved from one part of the deck to the table right next to ours. There, they interrupted our conversation of how to pronounce Jean-Paul Sarte’s name to ask Andrew to take a picture for them. The larger woman in blue who asked Andrew also started to rub his chest.

Andrew, being the pacifist that he is, was polite and obliged, but she came back for more, and rubbed him some more. “I have a girlfriend.” he said, pushing her arms off his body.

“Oh,” she interjected. “You know that if your buddies weren’t here you wouldn’t be saying anything!”

I don’t think so, drunky.

She persisted, and it eventually got to the point where Andrew was going “No, this is not cool!”

“Guess how old I am!” she demanded. At that point I went to get another drink…surely no good can come from this…nothing good comes from mixing women and age guessing.

“I have a 9 year old, a 3 year old, and a 1 year old!”

Nice…very sexy. It’s like sitting down to a really mediocre bowl of soup and being told by the guy who prepared it that he sneezed right into it before he brought it out to the table.

And if that’s not bad enough, his best friends (me, Scott and Chris) did NOTHING to help him out! Scott’s laughing up a storm while Chris smiles. I go in to get a drink. Andrew was the lamb to the slaughter, although he tried to get out of the harassment by reminding these women of our presence.

Andrew: These three gentlemen next to me have no girlfriends! Unpleasant drunk woman 1: Oh, but we like you!!! Unpleasant drunk woman 2: We’re from New Orleans!

Of course, I try to help out by suggesting we go inside.

Me: Hey man…you think it’s cold out here? Chris: No, I’m quite alright. Me: No really. I’m quite chilly. Chris: Not me.

Either Chris was COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS that I was trying to help out Andrew or he really enjoyed the show so much that he’d subject Andrew to more torture.

My favorite part about Andrew being harassed that night was when one woman said “You’re being Punk’d!” To which Andrew replied, “What does that mean?!”

Obviously they don’t know Andrew very well.

1 thought on “Poor Andrew”

  1. I just wanted to let you know that I let my brother read it, and he really loved it!

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