| It's Hard To Be an Ace Without a Good Wingman |
| Wednesday, 08 August 2007 | |
 Even the most seasoned babe slayer would be nothing without his supporting cast. Without Goose, Maverick would have been spanking it in his barracks every night. Remember how lost he was flying with that black guy after Goose's skull was caved in? Every time a man brings home a woman for a casual slam or three, she doesn't realize that he had a hard working and often unappreciated wingman in his corner. This guy works just as hard, if not harder as he was to receive a piece of tail that will never be his. While in a perfect world it would be his sex fluid liberally squirted into this girl, the wingman plays the role of co-pilot for his friend because he is simply a selfless individual, or very often, he has self-esteem problems. The work of a wingman is truly multi-faceted. A solid wingman will be the first to infiltrate a potentially complex dance floor situation, and assess which female commodities are ripe for his buddies to mangle later on in the evening. Wingmen are usually good talkers and good dancers, but are never the prettiest guys in the group. A wingman is the French onion soup before the steak and potatoes with a side of man gravy hit the table- he is there to appetite, and then are forgotten. Sometimes, a wingman is a guy who has made the awful decision to be locked up in a long-term relationship, and will selflessly pimp on his friends’ behalf because he goes home to the same slam hole night after night. This was the case with Goose, the greatest movie wingman of all time, who got to cover a young, supple Meg Ryan with US Navy Knuckle children every night. But, more often than not, wingmen are guys who, despite being socially skilled, usually end up "jumping on the grenade" night after night, and taking home highly questionable and oftentimes downright homely sexual conquests because they're probably the type of guy who would stick his man piston in a car door if it gyrated a little. A really great wingman acts kind of like the leadoff hitter in baseball. He gets the party started so that the heavy hitters can swing their Louisville sex sluggers and some damage. My friends Brett and Kyle, who in real life are the best wingmen this side of Barney Rubble, often begin their evenings by hitting the dance floor, buying girls drinks, and generally getting them somewhat moist so that the rest of us can make our grand entrance. They then fade into the background, and much like Goose, end up bobbing up and down in the ocean with a busted aircraft. An example of Brett's dedication to wingmanship would be one evening when I was looking to bring home an especially busty brunette who I knew was ready to be on the receiving and of my ramming rocket. When we got to the bar, he immediately engaged all of her friends in conversation, and they fawned over him like a Dalmatian puppy. He then danced with everyone, and even talked about how great and wholesome of a guy I am (all bold faced lies). Then, he gave the cab driver directions while I finger-banged her in the backseat. Later on, while I was mid Pile Driver, he sent me a text message that I'll never forget: “IF YOU NEED SOME HELP, TAG ME IN!” Of course, I never responded, but that's not the point. Sword crossing is something that should always be avoided regardless of the circumstances. It is imperative you never forget your wingman. Buy him an egg sandwich after you kick your evening's conquest out of your apartment, and give her his number instead of yours. Without him, you would have to do all the dirty work that does into to getting a girl to open her treasure trove yourself! This is America, and that simply would not be the American way.                       |
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