Sunday, August 29, 2010

Week Thirty-Four

Event: Attended a Bachelor Auction

While listening to the radio on my way into work last week, a DJ was talking about an event that was happening later that evening.  I just caught the tail end of what she was saying, but I heard all that I needed to hear.  Two words:  Bachelor.  Auction. 

Eleven hours later, I talked a friend of mine (also single) into going with me.  Going into it, we only knew two things:  It was a bachelor auction and the money raised would benefit the American Cancer Society.  Sounds like a winning combination to me!  As we walked into the bar and went up to the third floor, we passed a couple of other women.  My first thought was, "oh good - see - we won't be the only ones here..." but that quickly changed to, "Oh crap, is this a semi-formal?  I did not wear my prom dress..."  When we entered the room I felt like I was in a cross between a sorority rush party and an episode of the Bachelor.  There were probably 100 women - all of whom were dressed up like they were entering the Miss America Pageant.  The fact that I was wearing jeans (and a low cut top, but still) was not going to help my cause.  When my friend and I walked into the room, I'm pretty sure the record skipped and the room fell silent.  Super.

We paid our $20 donation and were promptly given a booklet featuring the "Man-U" for the evening.  The booklet contained the menu of bachelors - each one had their own page highlighting their age, height, hometown, occupation, and cheesy statement about how they love children, walk old ladies across the street and donate to the homeless.  Awe.  (I think I just threw up in my mouth a little).  They, of course, were all gorgeous, making me wonder 'why in the heck are you single?'  That didn't stop me, however, from reading each page at least three times and folding the corners of the ones I really loved, er, liked a lot.

As we began looking for two empty seats, I noticed the DJ that was on the radio that morning was standing in the corner talking to guests, preparing to be the emcee.  Ironically, she and I worked together years ago (during my stint in radio - I was told I have a face for radio...anywho) so my friend and I went up to say hello.  As the three of us stood there and chatted, a couple of the bachelors came up to say hi.  The first bachelor was all of 20 years old, was about a size 2 and "loved to dance".  As I looked at his tiny frame, I was reminded of something.  My theory is, if my waist is bigger than yours it's never gonna work.  Never.  Buh-Bye.  The next bachelor that came over was much more my type.  He was a little taller than me (5'8ish), was bald and had a little more meat on his bones than tiny dancer.  He had deep brown eyes, a 5 o'clock shadow and was absolutely hilarious.  He's the one, I thought.  I am definitely bidding on him.  He gave us his trading card (seriously, all the guys had trading cards with their profiles on it.  Plus you could buy a magnet with their face on it for just $2! I held myself back but will definitely put it on my Christmas list) and he told us to be sure and bid on him.

It was about that time that my DJ friend began her emcee duties, so my friend and I took our seats.  Thumbing through the booklet one last time, I leaned over to my friend and said, "Who do you think you'll bid on?"  To that she replied, "Well, that one guy was pretty hot."  Hoping she meant tiny dancer, I knew exactly who she was talking about.  Damn!  I could see it now.  The two of us were going to be duking it out, bidding against each other for the cute bald guy, but because neither of us wanted to spend any money the bidding would have to start at a dollar, then a dollar fifty, then two dollars, then two fifty...and suddenly good friends would find themselves fighting over nickels and dimes!  To that I responded, "hey maybe we could pool our money together and all three of us could go on the date!" 

Or not.

The auction was something I've never seen.  One by one the guys got up on the CATWALK and had to walk up and down to their favorite song (cue "I'm too sexy") while the DJ read their profile and the ladies ooooh'ed and ahhhh'ed.  Then a real life fast talking auctioneer took the stage.  It sounded like (say it in your mind really fast) "One hundred dollars I've got one hundred dollars over here, do I hear one fifty I've got one fifty over here do I hear one seventy five, one seventy five for the lady in the blue dress do I hear two hundred, two fifty I've got three hundred do I hear three fifty...?"  And so on and so on.  I couldn't believe how much these guys raised - one lady bid ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS.  Her man was worth it, but my Lord.  Next year I'm going to do some serious fund-raising so I can show up with hundreds of dollars in my pocket.

Half way into the auction, our cute, short, bald, funny new friend got on the stage and before the DJ even got a chance to introduce him, I suddenly felt this urge raise my arm, bidding number in tow, waving like a first grader as if to say, "Pick me!  Pick me!".  As I regained consciousness, I quickly realized what I was doing but it was too late.  While my attempt was to get his attention, I also got the DJs attention.  And with that, the DJ stopped reading his profile and said into the microphone, "Ooooh, see that girl?  I know her and she's really cool and funny and you should pick her and you two should get married."  Oh.  My.  God.  The entire room was looking at the stupid girl wearing jeans.

As I'm successfully turning fourteen colors of red, the auctioneer guy came over, a photographer started snapping pics (probably of my jeans) and suddenly I'm in the spotlight that I really don't want to be in.  Trying to laugh it off and wave everyone away, the auctioneer yelled into the microphone, "How about three thousand?  Sold?  How about three hundred, do I hear three hundred?"  I just panicked and said, "How about half that?"  Then he said, "One seventy-five do we have one-seventy five?" As I'm nodding, there appears to be someone else who wants to get some of the action.  Another woman raises her number.  And then on the other side of the room another woman raises her number and so the bidding war begins.  Since my bidding started and stopped at one seventy-five, our cute, short, bald, funny bachelor went to a much higher the tune of six hundred dollars. 

Fifteen minutes later, my friend and I watched our bachelor come out into the crowd to thank the woman that bid on him.  Moments later, I noticed him turn and start walking towards our table.  I grabbed my friend and said, "oh my gosh, he's coming over!"  Excited, I began to stand as he walked up.  His hands were out, as if to say, "You guys stopped bidding?  What's up with that?" So I replied, "I didn't know I had to bring six hundred bucks with me!" and my friend said, "Yeah, and the way that woman was bidding, I figured she was your girlfriend."  He said, "Girlfriend!?? You thought I had a girlfriend?  Well, I don't.  I'm single.  And the ladies that were doing the bidding - that was my sister and her best friend."  At that, I almost did a cartwheel.  And then there was this weird pause and he looked at my friend and said, "Well, this is awkward, but can I have your number?"

There are not enough adjectives in the dictionary to describe what I felt at that moment (cue loser music from The Price is Right) but it only got worse when the both of them looked at me and asked if they could borrow my pen...

An hour later I went home, logged onto Eharmony, and changed all of my profile pictures to pictures of models.  So there.


  1. Oh, dear. This made me laugh, and then I held my breath for like two paragraphs, and then I cringed, and then I wanted to cry, and then I laughed and then I got all protective. NO NO NO! How does that happen? Oh geez.

  2. She Who Steals Unpaid-For Bachelors (and guest star of this entry) mentioned I might enjoy your blog. And that you might also hook me up with your psychic so that my chances for lottery success could double.

    Well, she didn't quite say that last bit; I just inferred it from an unholy mixture of her blog recommendation and reading one of your entries thinking her recommendation held subtext. I admit I could be wrong about the whole subtext thing.

    But! I've enjoyed your entries. And frankly, think you oughta send her a bill should her date with the hijacked bachelor prove successful.