Posts Tagged ‘atlanta

So when Philly was here, we went on our bar crawl. After drinking many many many drinks, we decided to take a break for some food.

We found some seats and asked our bartender what he liked better: the tofu tacos or the tofu philly cheesesteak.

He said he liked the tacos, but we blew off his recc and went with the philly.

Out comes our food and I take a big drunken bite.

It’s delicious. I literally thought:

This is the best tofu I’ve ever had!

And then, we looked at the food.

And even looking at it, I couldn’t figure out how they made the tofu so delicious and yummy and …brown.

And then Philly double checked with the bartender that we actually had the tofu version of the cheesesteak and not the beefy version.

Turns out the reason the tofu was so damn delicious was because it was MEAT.

I haven’t had red meat in about 20 years.


Now, I’m not reverting to a carnivore any time soon, and I was PISSED about the mix-up. But, we should’ve checked our food and not trust some dummy behind the bar, who chalked it up to ‘miscommunication.’

But what really pissed me off? MORE than being given something I haven’t eaten in two decades?? THE ASSHOLE TRIED TO CHARGE US FOR THE FOOD.

They did replace it with the not-so-delicious tofu version but actually still tried to make us pay.

In my drunken state, I think I said the following:

There is no way in fucking hell that I’m paying for something that I didn’t order and didn’t want to eat.

He took it off the bill but after he acted like WE were in the wrong for even suggesting that it shouldn’t be a charge.

Meanwhile, this has happened before (and I expect it, and I’m typically more careful when I haven’t been drinking for hours at a time) and THAT time? The waitress not only apologized a dozen times to the point where it was uncomfortable, she comped my WHOLE meal, not just the food portion. It’s just decent customer service, you know?


As I’m typing this out… is this whole mix up a metaphor for my life?!?!!? 

I didn’t want the boring bland Asian food pretending to be something it’s not.


Maybe I need to be more honest with myself?

I mean, I’m not going back to meat but I don’t enjoy tofu – so why do I keep trying?

And I don’t like dating the Indian boys I’ve met –  so why do I keep trying?




Let’s just go ahead and answer that: Yes. Maybe. Depends on the definition of ‘bitch.’

To back up, I went to a “Stir” event tonight with a friend. We were having fun, chatting mostly with ourselves and the random guy here and there, but nothing exciting.

Then we met these two guys, “S” – he was the one who was actually on Match, and his friend, “T” – who S had dragged along. So S was chatting with us, and he was cute – seemed smart, had a job, is around our age, so we stayed chatting with him. About 2 minutes in, he asked my friend: “So, what do you do for fun? And don’t say travel, everyone says travel but nobody really does it.”

Little does he know who he’s chatting with – she travels extensively for her work, and so do I. Actually, I will pretty much bet that in that group of people at the event, I’ve traveled the furthest and the most exotic-est. Yet, I’m not bragging about it, so why does he think he needs to start with being hostile about it? And he didn’t say it in a cute-funny-flirty way. He said it in a completely dick-ish way, like nobody but him ever does anything with their lives. And pretty much insinuating that if we even dared to say we enjoy travel, we were lying. And then he went on to tell my friend that she reminded him of a girl from high school. That he didn’t like.

OK. Seriously, who does that? Why do that? Why be a dick to just be a dick? And I guess something to know about me – You can talk shit to my face, about me, all day long. I will not give a fuck. But if you ever say anything about my friends, I will make it known exactly how I feel about you – and not in a nice way. I am fiercely loyal and protective of friends and family. Always have been, always will be.

Anyway, he continued to be not so nice to us, so we departed from chatting with him. A little bit later, on the other side of the room, T came over to talk to us, and we enjoyed our conversation with just him – he was nice, friendly, and just fun to talk to.  We were about to leave the event and go to dinner, so we let T know that they were welcome to come if they’d like. They came. Big mistake.

We’re all chatting at dinner and in about 10 minutes, after he’d already been weirdly unsocial and rude, S made a “joke” about women being bad drivers who shouldn’t be on the roads (apparently we got teleported to 1922), talked about how women just like to shop and then called us ITP snobs. And then insulted my friend, again. I was definitely intoxicated when this happened, so I didn’t take too kindly to him being an asshole and this was the ensuing conversation:

Me: “So… do you get a lot of second dates off the girls you meet on Match? Because you’re kind of a dick. I assume they’ll stop at one.”

Him (after being a little speechless for a bit): “Yeah. I do fine. Actually, I get a lot of second dates.”

Me: “Oh, that’s good. And surprising. Cause really, you’re an asshole. I’m not sure how that happens.”

Him: “Well, I guess I’m just an ass when I know it’s not ever going anywhere and I feel like I should be honest, because I have nothing to lose.”

Me: …. just laughter. Really, I couldn’t do anything but laugh at the inanity of that comment. So it’s ok to be rude, mean, and downright vicious because you don’t think you’ll get something out of the person you’re talking to? That’s an awesomely shitty philosphy to live life.

And honestly, I don’t even think that’s true. I think he’s just a little boy, who could dish it out, but when encountered by women who don’t rely on men for every little thing, and were able to talk back and retaliate to the stupid comments, HE couldn’t take it.

And yes, I know I should’ve dropped it. But he was such a fucking prick all night, I couldn’t help but call it as I see it. What woman would want to date him after he’s insulting, rude and condescending? He was all of those things, in an event where you would expect people’s best behavior. So this was his best showing? What’s left to enjoy in the future? Barbs about how women should be barefoot and pregnant? Discussions about how rape wouldn’t happen if women didn’t wear such revealing clothes?

I had invited T (his friend) to a party we’re having, and I’d told S he could come as well. After that last conversation, S said, “OH, by the way, I think I’ll be busy on that night, so I can’t come.”

Me: “Oh. Such a shame. Our loss.”

Seriously, asshole. Don’t fuck with me. And definitely don’t fuck with my friends. I have no patience for it. What makes me so annoyed (with myself) was I thought he the cute one! My friend picked up on the douche-ness before I did, which of course now has me questioning my abilities to choose good ones. Poor T was caught in the middle, and he was definitely feeling awkward.

The boys left before we did, and when the waitress came over, she said: “Oh, they left?” We replied that they had to get home, and she goes, “The one [T] was nice, but the other one was really odd. He was just weird. There’s something wrong with him.”


So… Sure. I may be a bitch, but only when it’s really deserved (in my opinion). The ironic part of the whole night was that my girlfriend said that I was nicer than anyone she’d ever met – I would talk to anyone who approached us, whether I was interested or not. Whether I found them cute or not. Whether I would date them or not. I just think that’s the nice appropriate thing to do. People go to events like this (or even just to the bar, or out in general) to meet others, and I’m not going to ever be rude for no reason. I will talk to anyone who talks to me, and I’ll treat them with respect and kindness and sincerity. Apparently, not everyone thinks like that.

AND… T clearly liked me, because he texted and said it was a pleasure to meet me, and he hopes we meet up soon. I guess I’ll have to forgive his bad taste in friends.

So there… Bitch? Yes. Deservedly bitchy? More than yes.




And no. That’s not a euphemism for anything.

I am SUPER annoyed at this new trend of putting meat or meat by-products in what used to be meat-free food stuff. You know, like desserts (this, this and even on MasterChef right now, he put bacon in the pie crust).

I was just chatting with a friend about possible restaurant choices for a Girls’ Night Out on Saturday (which for me is just a regular Saturday night out, but the marrieds need a reason to be out) and I checked the menu for one of them (I won’t link the place, just to be fair, since they’re not the only place out there that has a menu geared towards carnivores only).

And, I am sure the food is delish. I have no doubt it’s yummy and awesome and all that. BUT WHY IS THERE DUCK FAT AND BACON IN THE FUCKING FRENCH FRIES?!?!?!?!!? WHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?  (And yes, I do hear you answering me: Because it’s AWESOME. I know. It’s my own fault that I choose not to eat animals anymore.)

Also, this whole idea that you can just throw vegetables on a plate and call it ‘dinner’ IS NOT TRUE. It’s actually really damn annoying.  Just because I choose to be vegetarian does not mean that I want to graze like a cow. Especially if I’m drinking. Okra doesn’t soak up alcohol like bread and cheese does, you know?

There are plenty of times that I’ve been out and I literally cannot eat one thing on the menu. And that’s ok, I can usually make do with a drink and dessert. In fact, on a trip to Europe years ago, I literally lived on Kir Royales and desserts, because apparently in France, you can’t get anything without jambon in it. The first few days were fun and it was novel… by the end, I was craving something real (to be clear, I’d already given up beef/pork by that point).

I gave up all meat about 3 years ago because I just felt like I didn’t need it in my diet anymore – I came to the conclusion that I could get a diet I wanted with anything having died in order for me to eat. And once I had that thought in mind, I could no longer eat meat because all I saw on my dish, instead of what used to look soooo enticing and delicious, was a dead carcass. And once that stayed with me, I knew I wouldn’t eat it again. This isn’t to say that I haven’t left my options open — I’m not a militant vegetarian – sometimes I sniff my friend’s plates for that smell of well cooked chicken or steak. But I don’t miss it and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by not eating it.

And 0bviously, I don’t expect any restaurant to cater to my dietary needs. But I’m not the only one out there… vegetarianism is growing in popularity, so you would think that any restaurant would have at least ONE option on the menu that doesn’t consist of sides. Telling me I can have 3 choices (let’s say okra, collard greens and grits – we are in the south here) and not offering a protein or a carb AND THEN CHARGING ME $12 to $20 FOR THE LUXURY OF ORDERING IT REALLY PISSES ME OFF.

And, I KNOW it was cooked in lard. Fuck. I’m sure it is. But, I choose not to ask a lot of time –  I go with the policy of “don’t ask, don’t tell” – if I don’t know that the kitchen used chicken or fish stock, I’m not going to go out of my way to find that out. But if I’m with people who ask, or the waitress mentions it, then I won’t order it. I’ve got loose morals all around, we can say 😉

But anyway, I long for the good old days, when you didn’t have to ask if the veggies were vegetarian, and you could assume the dessert didn’t have hidden meat by-products in it.  When my friend A and I used to work together, we’d do a coffee break – sometimes we’d split a little pack of donuts as well. One day, I was reading the ingredients. You know what it had it in? BEEF.


And then there was the time on KLM where they passed out almonds for a snack – yeah! I ate one, thought it tasted rather “meaty” and then checked the ingredients. WHY IS THERE BEEF IN MY NUTS?!!?! WHY?!

These are questions that really should never have to be asked, and yet, here I am. Asking them. So, seriously – let’s just get back to the basics, can we? Keep the meat out of my veggies. And desserts. And nuts. And I’ll keep sniffing it when I need a hit. I think that’s more than a fair compromise.


So after a bit of a drought with Match, I had two dates this weekend. And they couldn’t have been any more diverse… Muslim boy on Saturday afternoon, and an Irish guy on Sunday night.

I met the Irish guy last night at a local steak/sports bar, and he’d taken the train over (MARTA is smarta!) which I thought was cool. I never take MARTA anywhere, not even the airport. But it’s such a Euro-thing to do, right? Public transportation is so great, if you actually use it. I do not.

One of the last times I rode MARTA some cracked out old woman was trying to sell us drugs and didn’t have any underwear on. I was scarred for LIFE. Seriously. It’s hard to “just ignore” someone when they’re yelling at you and also displaying goods which may or may not be for purchase. She didn’t say.

Anyway, back to my date! I was not just impressed with his desire to reduce pollution and not drink and drive but also his Irish brogue. So cute!  Physically, not really my type but I figured I could just close my eyes and listen to him talk if it came down to it…

I got there about 5 minutes late, and he was already half a beer down. Sadly, not drinking Guinness as I thought he would be, but Heineken.

Fast forward 4 hours (after discussing work, telework, the Euro, the economic collapse associated with the Euro, maths, liquor, Irish bars, work again, living in the States, living in Ireland, some long pauses with no chatting) and we’re both a few drinks in. Except he can drink 2 for every 1 of mine, so he’s basically put down a 6-pack. Plus the last couple of rum and cokes that I ordered, I couldn’t actually finish because they were all rum and I did have to drive – so he drank them. All the while telling me how rum and cokes are his favorite drink too – I think he was excited about the ‘kismet’ of that, but come on. It’s just that rum and coke is a hard drink for a bartender to fuck up, so it’s the easiest one to have on stand-by.

Basically, he was, as they say in the Emerald Isle, pissed. Or, as we say here, drunk off his ass. (What is, “Irish Stereotypes for $1000”, Alex??)

I ordered some food to help soak up the alcohol, but he wouldn’t have any. Guess it would’ve got in the way of his buzz. And then, as I watched him stumble to the bathroom, I knew I couldn’t leave him to take public transport home – the half-naked, drug-selling women would’ve just taken advantage of him.

So I went to use the restroom myself before we left and came back and he started swaying his way towards me, and I saw that his card was still sitting in the bill-fold (I’d offered to contribute, but he said no) – so I said, “Oh, they haven’t run your card yet?”

And the bartender pulls out his card and his copy of the bill and hands them over. Oh, they’d run it, and he was about to walk out of the bar without his credit card. Honestly, I have no clue if he signed the bill or left a tip. He didn’t even remember his card was still sitting there, in plain sight! I debated going back to see if he’d left a tip, but I honestly couldn’t be arsed. (I am super enjoying Brit slang, if you haven’t noticed).

So I drove him back to his place. And he was very sweet and very thankful about it and had forgotten his gate card for the pedestrian walk-way, so had to call himself from the car gate area and walked through that. Oy. I did totally wait till he was inside his complex before I drove off.  You know, I like to make sure my dates make it back home. I figure it’s the least I can do.

I would totally see him again, in a group setting, where I wasn’t responsible for his health and well-being. He’s fun and appeared to be surprised I was smart and conversant in many topic areas (Who is he meeting off match? Sheesh. I didn’t think anything we talked was that groundbreaking!). By the way – the accidentally (??) back-handed compliments I get from guys are just awesome. The Muslim boy told me: “Yeah, I got married young because I was too much into physical appearances. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”   Ummmmmmmmmmmmm…….. thanks, asshole.  Ok, I don’t even think he meant it the way I took it, but come on! Who says that on a first-date? I’ll just believe it’s because he’s out of practice.

Match Cost and recoup-ment:

After Saturday’s date, I had $54 left to recoup. Last night I had an appetizer and 3 drinks, about an average of $9 each, so that’s $36.

Only $18 left to get back.  Also, just for a disclaimer:  This is just me being tongue-in-cheek. I always offer to contribute and I mean it – I have no problem splitting the cost. I know these guys are in the same boat I am in terms of having paid for Match, and I appreciate it a lot when they treat it like a “real” first date, and not just some internet-assisted meet-up, which is what it is.

I finally saw Magic Mike today… I want my $9 and two hours back. HOLY HELL. How could a movie about hot strippers be so… boring? Lame? Stupid??

It turned out to be half-“Wall Street” and half-“Pretty Woman.”  Neither of which I was expecting. I don’t want my strippers to have feelings or thoughts. I WANTED NUDITY. LOTS OF IT. That is what strippers do:  STRIP THEIR FUCKING CLOTHES OFF.

Instead, I got a morality tale of why you shouldn’t sell or do drugs, and a lame “love” story.  Also, I lived in Tampa for a few years — nobody looks like the people in this movie, they’re all fat in real life.  And, Mike’s place in the movie? WORTH MILLIONS. You’re telling me a stripper can afford beachfront property? Um no. I’ll suspend disbelief for some things, but not THAT.

There’s a male strip club here in town (full nudity), which caters to the gay crowd and can be downright hostile to girls walking in on their own. They apparently believe women won’t tip as well… wonder if this stupid movie will change their mind? Also, they usually keep their socks and shoes on.  Do you know how odd it is to see a guy take of all his clothes, except the things that should come off first? And, no velcro tear-away pants. None.  There are no props, per the movie. It’s just boys, their normal clothes, and then their normal clothes coming off.

In any case, years ago, it was my first visit there and by the end of the night I was chatting with one of the strippers, who was actually really smart and fun to talk to – he ended up asking me out, but basically forced me out the door, saying he’d get in trouble if management saw him talking to me, because it would take away the money they expect from the gays. Whatever.

Let me be clear, I never did anything with him – mostly because he admitted he was “gay for pay” – turns out the dancers are mostly straight, but for the right amount, are willing to do certain things. He said all he ever let this older guy do was “touch him”… yeah, right. I’m sure the old guy touched him with his mouth.

The date was fine but really all I wanted to do was talk about stripping, the money he made, how much he liked it, and he didn’t. As Magic Mike says in the movie: “That isn’t all of who I am.”  Are you kidding?  That’s the most interesting part, so that is what I wanted to discuss. We never had a second date, which was fine with me.

A second time we went, it was a group of girls, and we ended up accidentally buying a lap dance. Seriously. It was not on purpose – the DJ asked, “Who wants a t-shirt??” and my girlfriend, A, raised her hand and said she did. Who knows that’s code for a lap dance? Fuck. Not us! So the guy came down (was really cute) and asked who wanted the dance. We all looked at each other and said, “um… nobody”… and he said we took the shirt, so we got a dance.

Let me rephrase that. *I* got a dance. I had some naked guy swinging his medium-sized dick close to my legs. I honestly couldn’t even look, I was blushing. But I also couldn’t look up, because I didn’t want to make eye contact. Basically I looked like a crazy person trying to avoid eye and penis contact.

He goes: “You’re too sexy to be shy – why won’t you look down?” And I responded: “Because I don’t know your name and your penis is reaalllllllllllllllllly close to my jeans, and I’m kinda freaking out.”

He was actually very sweet and backed off. Finished the dance and off he went to the next round. Oh yea… we also didn’t realize we had to pay him – that took us about an hour to figure out, but he never asked us for the money straight out.

Anyway, as I was walking by this table of VERY cute men, they stopped me and go: “Honey, did you see how excited he was dancing for you? He totally liked you.”


I was mortified. And kind of proud. Turned out the whole fucking club saw and I was the only one who didn’t notice, because I refused to look at his gyrating penis.

We ended up chatting with the guys from the table for most of the night. And then we ended up going home with them. 4 girls. 3 gay men. One stripper. (But not the one that danced for us, this one was so cute but sooooo dumb and had a crush on our other friend).

So we got back to the house and the gays were freaking out because they thought the stripper was going to steal something… spoiler alert: he didn’t. We ended up in the hot tub.

Ok. Let me just point out that I was really drunk at this point. And when A and I get together, we’re bad but SOOOO good and fun. It basically turns into: If you do it, I’ll do it and we both end up doing things we wouldn’t have if we were with other people. So me and one of the guys got in the hot tub first and waited for everyone to join us. I thought we waited about 5 minutes. Turned out it was a good half hour before anyone else got in.

So… the two of us… in the hot tub. He was REALLY cute. And REALLY naked.  And REALLY gay. And I only had on my panties. So maybe I felt him up a little bit….until we started chatting and I asked if he had a partner. Him: “Yeah, he is the one who just went to get beer. We’ve been together 17 years. I kinda love you.”

I dropped his dick out my hand pretty quick.

The rest of the night was a lot of fun… they were very gracious hosts and let us shower there, even gave us towels! We left and never saw each other again.

As it should be.

So there, Magic Mike. Two hours of my stripper stories would’ve been more entertaining than the shit we sat through today. Sheesh. Why isn’t Hollywood knocking on my door yet???






Ok… that title might be a little misleading… but it’s true! We were at the Highlands for Summerfest and my friend bought ‘all natural, all organic’ dog treats for her pup. According to the bakers (let’s hope to god it’s true), the treats were made with ingredients that people can eat too – one was with peanut butter, the other was a sweet potato muffin.

So the peanut butter one was covered in what looked deliciously like chocolate, but turned out to be carob (since dogs can’t eat chocolate?). YUCK. My mom tried to get us to eat carob when we were little and I’m still completely averse to it. It is such a faker! Looks like chocolate, feels like chocolate, tastes like ass (not that I would know for sure – I don’t do that). It’s not fair to pretend to be something so yummy and end up being so disappointing. At all.

The “muffin” was disgusting too, but mostly because they didn’t use sugar to sweeten it. I bet if they’d poured in the amount of sugar I’m used to, they wouldn’t have been bad!

Let me be clear, we didn’t take big bites of any of this. The ‘bites’ consisted of the smallest crumb I could grab and still get a taste, but I think I’m done experimenting with non-people food.

Met up with Teen Wolf (TW) last night, and ended up back at his place for possibly the quickest sex of my life. I’m not really even sure it counts (he did have the decency to be ashamed of himself).  Let me back-up a bit though, and tell you how I ended up in dirtiest house I’ve seen in a LONG time having the fastest sex ever…

We’d been texting back and forth a bit over the past week, and finally decided we’d get together Saturday (last) night. Met him and his friends (who were all super nice) at a local pub in Buckhead, and when we were done with that, they wanted to go to Red Door – which just happens to be a dive-y, dirty, not-my-style kind of bar.  Me and my friends went along, because why not – we had no other plans.

Teen Wolf had been sweet though – told me how pretty I was (in just 2 hours, as opposed to never in 3 days!!) and how glad he was that we’d come out, etc etc. Points for that.

Anyway, we get to Red Door, and the first thing they do is set up a few tables to play… FLIP CUP.   Basically, he and his friends are frat boys who never grew up.  This was going to be a loooooooooong fucking night.

I have realized though, that at 34, I don’t have to put up with shit that I don’t want to. Keep that in mind for the some of the story to come.

The boys and some of the girls play flip cup, and my friends decide to leave. I stayed to hang out with TW and he asked if I wanted to come back to his place, where he lives with 2 other boy room-mates. I should’ve known what I was walking into, but my desire for sex was greater than my ability to logically think at that point… plus, I was drunk (big surprise there!).

And so we get to his house. And it is disgusting. There were roaches at the bottom of the fridge. Fucking hell, how is that even possible? There are plates of half-eaten (and some fully eaten) food in all corners. I was actually afraid to sit on the toilet. The bathroom sink had hair all over it, and one of the boys, I don’t know who, left their toothbrush in that mess.  WHO LIVES LIKE THIS?!!?!? HOW IS IT POSSIBLE?!?!?!

I told him how filthy it was, and again, he was embarrassed but I was already there at this point – what difference did it make? I had no car either, he was going to have to take me home at some point. And his car was the first pub, since he was too drunk to drive after that.

SO… his room. Honestly, I didn’t really want to look around. It looked like it mostly just clothes that were hanging out everywhere – I only saw a little piece of carpet. The bed… sigh. The bed. It was there and looked relatively clean. Good enough.

We start to fool around, but I just cannot get in the mood — I’m so grossed out by everything. And the thing is, they are smart boys! They’re all working with really good jobs and have degrees and HOW IS THIS OK TO LIVE IN?!!?

He does what he needs to do to get me ‘happier’ and I am enjoying myself, until we are ready to have sex and I asked if has protection. His words, “No. Why?” WHHHHHHHHHHHHATTTTTT?!?!!? I just looked at him, in all his naked chubby glory and told him to find some, or we’re not doing anything. At all. Him: “Not even just the tip?” NO! WHO DOES THAT WORK ON?!!?!? NO NO NO.

So what does he do? GOES TO HIS ROOM-MATE AND ASKS FOR A CONDOM. No shame, these boys… no shame.

It was useless anyways – I wasn’t in the mood, didn’t care and he wasn’t having fun because I forced him to wrap it up. We ended up not doing anything, and he takes the condom off and asks if I’ll take care of him. Remember up above where I said I’m old enough to not just do things? Yeah… I said no, you can take care of yourself.  Him: “Come on! I totally had dinner in your va-jay-jay” (direct quote). Me: “I didn’t ask you to that, so the answer’s still no.”  Him: “Can I come on you?” Me: “No, that’s so annoying.” We (more correctly, he) finished himself off and we went to bed. Where I didn’t sleep a wink – it’s hot, the aircon isn’t working (of course – why would it be?), the fan sounds like it’s going to fall off the ceiling and he snores.

Morning rolls around and his roommate had gone out and brought us some Gatorade to re-hydrate. He also very helpfully bought TW a box of condoms. Ok – I thought this was actually really nice! I don’t know that I’d buy condoms for my friends.

Anyway, he starts to open one and I just look at him and point out that until he actually does something to turn me on, putting one on now was going to be useless. Jesus. How often does he have sex? Less than me?!?!!

He gets me turned on enough, we have sex and it’s pretty much over in 5 minutes. He mumbled a quick apology about being so fast.

Thing is, I’m sorta glad it was so quick – I just wanted out of that house. I will admit, in the daylight, it wasn’t as bad as it had looked at night, but still… I told him if we ever hook up again, we’ll do it at my place. I’m not going back there.

In any case, I try to find all my stuff in the morning, and I couldn’t find my undies. I get dressed, he found them somewhere on the floor, and handed them to me. I REALLY did not want to take them home with me, but in the end, that’s how I ended up coming home with my underwear in my purse.

Fuck man. When did my life become “Sex and the City” episodes?

As my friend, T, said – given how he is, the bar of choice we went to, and how old they act – she wasn’t surprised that the sex ended up  being semi-sex-less. Neither am I actually.

I would totally see him again, though – he is smart, sweet and thoughtful, if not a little stupid about not wanting to use condoms.  Plus, with the sex being so short, I can get what I need (kind of) and get on with my day! Silver linings 😉

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