I hardly ever go out. I just don’t really have it in me anymore.
But last night I needed to get out of here, so I went out to dinner with my annoyingly cute friend A. (If you don’t know who I’m talking about, read the July 1 post).
I have been trying to go to Figs, my new favorite restaurant, with A for about 6 months now. If I do manage to go out, it’s the only place I want to go. I’m obsessed with this tuna appetizer they serve.
The last time we tried to go there was a Monday night. About an hour before we were supposed to meet, I found out that it’s closed on Mondays.
But last night it was Tuesday so we were safe. A got there before me. My phone rang.
“There’s no one here. Oh, the sign on the door says ‘closed for vacation July 1st – 5th.'”
Perfect.
So we settled on this place called McGuires. No tuna there, but there’s great outdoor seating, and last night it was really nice out. Nice, until we started getting attacked by mosquitoes, so we moved inside.
And then we crossed paths with this douchebag.
He came over to our table and asked us if we wanted a drink. Actually, he pretty much asked A. I don’t know if he even realized I was there.
A looked at me to see what I thought.
I shrugged my shoulders. I’m not really one to turn down anything that’s free these days.
But even free stuff has its price…
He couldn’t really have stood any closer to A, and she couldn’t have been leaning any farther back in her chair.
I wanted so badly to take a picture, but my phone was dead.
“What are you girls doing here?”
“Getting away from our kids,” A answered.
“Kids? How many kids you have?” he asked her, like a drunken neanderthal. He was spraying her with his nasty, alcohol-soaked spit.
I guess being the hot one has its disadvantages…
“3,” said A.
“3? Whoa! That’s a lot of kids!”
I just rolled my eyes.
And then the imbecile acknowledged me.
“How about you?”
“4 more than her.”
Pause…………….
“7 KIDS?”
Well at least he can do basic math.
But he was done with me. Back to A.
“You really have 3 kids. How old are you? 20???”
She’s 36. She looked great, as always, but come on. I couldn’t control myself. “Are you kidding me?” I said.
“What? She doesn’t look old enough to have 3 kids!!!”
“And you….” he said, turning toward me. “You…”
“Definitely don’t look old enough to have 7!!!” I answered for him.
He looked at A with a help-me-out-here look on his face.
“She’s beautiful,” A said to him.
“Yeah, she’s beautiful. She’s also a pain in the ass.”
“Doot doot doot doot doot!” said A, pretending to type on a keyboard.
A understands. I now view every event in my life as a blogging opportunity.
“What? What does that mean? See? I’m so old I don’t even know what you mean!” he laughed.
“It means I think your friends miss you and get the fuck away from us,” I said.
He did an about face and went back over to the bar. He stood there in disbelief, shaking his head, and smiling like an idiot.
“Quick, take his picture,” I said.
She clicked, and we got out of there.
The next time Figs is closed, I’m just coming back home.
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