Wednesday, April 04, 2007
The Mexican or That Time I Made Out in a Bathroom Stall
So a few weeks ago I found myself at a wine tasting... which surprisingly enough led to mojitos and ultimately to shots. Shots that tasted like chocolate cake. (take this as a warning kids, wine=gateway drug)
But I digress. Earlier in the night I ran into a guy I had met once before. Intelligence reports came back that he was single and I could see for myself that he was cute. While sober, I decided that I would put the moves on him. Unfortunately, I quaffed an entire bottle of wine before I could put my plan into action.
Nevertheless, I was undeterred. It came up that he and his boss were headed to a new bar conveniently located 3 blocks from my apartment to watch the Pitt game; I invited myself along.
Let's just say at this point, I worked my magic, and when he got up to go to the bathroom I went along to make sure he didn't fall in. A little kissing and squeezing later and he snuck out...him with a bloody lip and me with a killer case of blue balls. But despite using the vast array of wiles in my possession, the Mexican refused to come up to my place.
As it turns out, my intel was wrong and what I've gathered since is that he has a serious girlfriend. Somehow, that hasn't stopped us from grabbing lunch and ice cream after work. Tomorrow we're headed to happy hour at the same place we "met." Any one else think there could possibly be a happy ending to this story?
Yeah...me neither.
So a few weeks ago I found myself at a wine tasting... which surprisingly enough led to mojitos and ultimately to shots. Shots that tasted like chocolate cake. (take this as a warning kids, wine=gateway drug)
But I digress. Earlier in the night I ran into a guy I had met once before. Intelligence reports came back that he was single and I could see for myself that he was cute. While sober, I decided that I would put the moves on him. Unfortunately, I quaffed an entire bottle of wine before I could put my plan into action.
Nevertheless, I was undeterred. It came up that he and his boss were headed to a new bar conveniently located 3 blocks from my apartment to watch the Pitt game; I invited myself along.
Let's just say at this point, I worked my magic, and when he got up to go to the bathroom I went along to make sure he didn't fall in. A little kissing and squeezing later and he snuck out...him with a bloody lip and me with a killer case of blue balls. But despite using the vast array of wiles in my possession, the Mexican refused to come up to my place.
As it turns out, my intel was wrong and what I've gathered since is that he has a serious girlfriend. Somehow, that hasn't stopped us from grabbing lunch and ice cream after work. Tomorrow we're headed to happy hour at the same place we "met." Any one else think there could possibly be a happy ending to this story?
Yeah...me neither.
