the wingman

Hello my name is Aimee and this is a real life adventure...

When one is out at a bar, or in any social setting you can always pick them out- the pair of guys working the room. One is putting the moves on a girl and the other is usually hanging in the background keeping her friend preoccupied. This individual is normally referred to as 'the wingman'. He is along for the ride, for better for worse. He can help you rope in the hotties and keep any unwanted company at bay. In some situations the said "wingman" will even take the fall and look like a complete jackass if it means his friend will get ahead with the girl.

I believe that the Coors Light people frame the responsibilities of the wingman perfectly upon release of this commercial.



There is little acknowledgment of the female wingman in the media so I would like to bring to your attention the importance and responsibility of these fearless (and stupid) women. Of course this story involves none other than myself :).

It was fairly early for a Saturday night when my close friend and I returned home from dinner at La Boca (DELICIOUS!!!). Exhausted from the long day we flipped on the TV in her Vista apartment and started to drift to sleep. Around midnight our third musketeer came bursting in from dinner. She had a lovely time, but she wasn't ready to call it quits. She had agreed to meet a cute boy on Mill Avenue (the hot spot for college kids in the Tempe area). Just as quickly as she had blown in, she re-powdered her nose and was off to hail a cab. In a matter of seconds I had made the decision not to send my tireless friend alone in a cab to meet Mr. Right Now, but that I was going with. In this act I had willingly made myself the wingman. Shortly thereafter we arrived at our first bar, I was still half asleep and my vivacious (let's call her Viv!) friend was starting to get nervous. Slowly we mingled our way into the bar and met the group. Mr. Right Now was looking quite cute in a polo shirt, while I started to feel self-conscious about my messy hair, glasses, and sober demeanor.

Two bars, one Silvermine sandwich, and three hours later I laid on a couch in Hayden Square wondering how my night had gotten so random so quickly. In accompanying my adventurous friend I had chosen to act at her mercy. Besides, I could not have let her hit Mill alone with no one to listen for the code word, or hold a ponytail of hair in the case of vomiting (a rare occurrence, I assure you). In essence, the female wingman is a socially accepted way of enacting the buddy system, something my parents adamantly preach about. With the help of a buddy, it is believed that creepy boys will be warded off and everyone will get home safe and sound.

In my case I had done the ultimate duty. I stuck by my co-pilot all night, never leaving her side. I backed up her white lies, and joked about my insecurities. I kept the other group members entertained, allowing Mr. Right Now and Viv to flirt shamelessly through the night. In the end it may seem that I was the one to get the short end of the stick, but I slept soundly knowing that in the big, scary, uncertain world there exists two other musketeers that will always be there for me.

So here's to you and your friends; whether it be yourself or another playing the leading role in your next adventure make sure to stay safe and never fly without your wingman.