Thanks for the Patty Melt
Girls Weekend Part Deux was a raging success, really. I'm embarrassed and ashamed to admit that it was BEAUTIFUL in Savannah this weekend, perfect sunshiney weather, mid 60s, hint of Fall in the air. . .and did we indulge in ANY of it? No. We were too busy. . .imbibing in the um. . .FESTIVITIES that we just had to spend the daylight hours. . .well, RESTING both after and prior to further festivities. . .yes, we all SLEPT all day yesterday. . .after resurrecting the hilarious activities we engaged in the night before and laughing about it all over again that morning. This is installment one. I know you'll all be scared away by one huge long blog post chronicling ALL misadventures, so I'll give it to you in installments.
So, I didn't cheat on the boyfriend, shockingly enough ;-) No, really, I didn't really think that was a danger, but it is fun, once and again, to go out with just the girls and remind yourself that you're cute and have no trouble in the guy department. So, when some average looking guy started paying me some attention and wanted to dance with me on Friday, I said fine. He was sort of trying to kiss on me, but I kept turning my head, and when the music stopped and they kicked us out, I took off. I was taking individual stock of all my girls' locations and making sure that everyone was accounted for (I've had trouble with this in the past, so I'm trying to be a better "girlfriend" in these situations). The guy follows me out. . ."Wait, wait, I want to see you again. . ." I don't think we'd had enough conversation to speak of at this point for me to have told him I have a boyfriend, but at this point, I tell him that we've not going to see each other again, I have a boyfriend. So he keeps talking to me, as I recline on a picnic table outside the bar. He's really sort of irritating me. I need to find all my girls. But he keeps telling me that he wants to see me again and I politely tell him that no, he just wants to sleep with me.
"No, no," he says, "why would I want that?"
"Um. . .I dunno, cause I'm hot?"
At this point, another guy walks by, and I tap him on the shoulder and say, "Can you tell me what's going on here? Do you think he wants to see me again or just F$#@ me?"
Random guy: "Oh yeah, he just wants to F$#@ you."
Me: "Cause I'm hot, right?"
Random guy: "Yep."
Me: "Ok thanks."
At some point thereafter, I finally shed the loser and go to account for my friends. . .who are ALL going elsewhere (various and sundry places. . .some of them to what they're referring to as "Club 624," which apparently refers to an apartment number of some guys they met). Ok, fine, everyone's good, right. Now shit, what am I going to do? The guy walks by with his friends. . ."Oh hey, " I say, "I think I'll go with you after all. Can we get something to eat?" I go with him on the condition that he promises to feed me. In fact, I am so adament about eating, that he actually asks me would I go with him if I weren't going to be able to eat, at which point I wave at a semi truck driver stopped at a redlight and make a legitimate attempt to enter his cab. The handle wouldn't open. Maybe he locked it because he sensed that a crazy drunk girl was going to try and get HIM to take her to Waffle House. I dunno. But my guy pulls me away. And after taking his roommate and his girlfriend to his apartment, which I think he secretly hopes I'll enter ("Nah, I'll just wait here. We're going to Waffle House right?"), we do in fact go to Waffle House. Because they are cleaning the grill, my coveted patty melt is out of my grasp, and because I refuse to eat a waffle, I instruct my guy just to take me home. Now, we've driven all over Savannah at this point, and when loser asks for my number, I feel no choice but to give it to him. I'm glad that I gave him the right one because he actually calls it. . .at which point, I realize I've left my phone at Waffle House. I had put it out on the table to make sure I heard it ring if any of my girls called in a hook-up emergency. Shit. So we go BACK to Waffle House and the grill is clean now, so I can have my patty melt. He even orders a waffle, which is funny, because he would have been perfectly satisfied with his food choices the first trip, as waffles do not involve the grill. Guy makes several more attempts to convince me how much I really must like him to have spent all this time with him and let him hold my hand in the truck, etc. at which point I explain (several times) that I really don't care, I just wanted Waffle House, and I'm in love with my boyfriend. But thanks for the patty melt.
The bitchier I was, the more he wanted to "get to know" me. Hey, buddy, maybe I'm just not that into you. And they say WOMEN are always attracted to assholes.
