Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Return of the Mojo

I'm feeling good again. And good alone. And decided that a brunch filled with endless mimosas - a brunch that extends past brunch's end and lasts for 8 hours - steals all of your giggles. I laughed until my face hurt and when I awoke that Monday, I felt like this. And promptly decided - with my brunch buddy in (her hungover) agree-ance - that champagne steals all of your giggles and puts them there in that moment in one place and then you have to work back up to a stock of giggles again. It's a theory. Seems legit.

This past weekend I went on a bar crawl. It was a friend's birthday. So at 3pm I show up and start my day with a cider and a beer (which were the only drinks I paid for all day. Nice.). I steered well clear of vodka - as I promised myself last month - I gave up vodka for "lent", despite my lack of Catholicism. In line for the next bar we made friends with the kids in front of us - one of which darted off to get empanadas while in line and returned with none for us. After waiting in line, we learn our friends went to another after they saw the line so we decided to have one beer (I hate beer - this was huge) and pee. A guy hit on me after I exited the bathroom while he was in line by this clever on: "Hey blondie". I returned a "hi" and he said "that's it?"

Funny ending to this short story. Waiting to finish our beers we just miander around that area and the "blondie" guy returns to his table, which happened to be behind where we were standing -- and it appeared his girlfriend, or lady friend, or "I touch you like this" friend was there. Classy, dude. Next, I noted a drawer between booths and wondered if it opened. A guy who was standing there saw my staring and I said "excuse me, would you try to open that drawer", which led to a short discussion about how he'd done that earlier and found a blue mop he tried to convince me to wear as a wig. I declined. I chugged upon request. We left.

So after about 3 hours of drinking, a few of us refueled on empanadas, inspired by the guy in line earlier, and after briefly getting locked in the empanada place by a 11 year old, we continued our day. We headed to our fourth bar on the crawl - by which time I was not finished with my empanana and thus put it in my purse - and as soon as I enter the door, I was stopped by a guy who looked - to me - uncannily like Dr. Cox (of the Jersey Shore variety). He asked if my friend I walked in with was my boyfriend. "No," I replied, "I don't have a boyfriend". Then he started to chat with me, at which point I excused my eye contact, "Hold on", to grab the rest of the empanada from my purse and continue to eat it at the bar - while this guy hits on me. (Classy. Classic.)

He laughed and continued to talk to me for another 15 minutes or so, then, apparently, not one to take his time, he said "I'm glad I stopped you when you walked in. I couldn't tell with those rings on - which finger they were on. You're cute. So can I take you to dinner?"

"Um. I don't know," I replied...or something like it.

"Well, can I have your number," he responded.

"Okay. You can have my number," I said, fairly certain I added something about that not meaning I'd go to dinner.

For about the next 45 minutes or so, I talked to him and met his friends - who apparently fell in love with me. Then all convinced me what a nice guy Dr. Cox was. I nicknamed one of his friends. And advised the fat one that the fake beard he was sporting looked more like a merkin than a leprachan beard...which apparently went over well with the other guys because they only used the fat guy as a DD and no one was actually at all fond of him. He took it off eventually, after first scoffing at me when he asked what a merkin was and I educated him that it's a pubic wig. Then Jersey Shore Dr. Cox went on about how I was funny - and waiting for my sarcasm to come out - and how I was so pretty - and kept high-fiving me until I declared he had gone over his high-five quota - then kept fist pounding me, until I told him I hate fist pounds (and I do) - then starting hugging me when I said something he liked, until I told him no more hugs. Evidently, this all came off as funny sarcasm, but to me it was all a little overkill. I'm cute, I get it. After he bought me a beer, then his friend (unprompted) bought me a beer, I had to excuse myself to go back with my friends.

Once back there he texted me. Okay, there are rules to dating for this specifically - though admittedly I told him to tell me where he was headed to next and maybe we'd end up there - but the first text was unrelated to the crawl. Pump the brakes, guys. PUMP. THE. BRAKES.

So we leave that bar and I text the guy and tell him I'll go to the bar he's at if there's a cider waiting for me. (I love cider.) So my friends and I give it a "why the hell not" and head back to my first bar presence of the day, with a girlfriend of mine in tow now. We're there briefly and the group starts to defect and I'm winding down for the night, but my girlfriend had gone to the next bar I promised I'd go to if she'd stop at the cider one. So I went to the next bar to find her - only she had left. So I finished my rum and coke (stating at least 20 times "I hate rum" - see: self promise) and left.

I got off the metro and decided to get a midnight sandwich at the local place a block from my house, which sits conveniently next to my metro exit. (Ahh, life, you please me sometimes.) I order my sandwich to go and while I'm in line paying a younger twenty-something guy comes up to me in line - shy, quiet - and says, "you can come eat with us if you want". Pleasantly intoxicated (I might need to stick to this beer/cider thing), I plop down with him and his two friends and my ruben, and he says "sweet".

We chat and carry on while I eat my sandwich like an intoxicated person, which I imagine after 9 hours is rather attractive. But just like the other guys, they all loved me. How funny I was. How pretty my eyes were. "I look like shit, I'm sure," I thought to myself, but just said thanks and carried on. When I finished, I was leaving so they decided to leave and asked where I lived int he neighborhood and hoped they'd see me around.

I woke up, re-hydrated and mentally prepared for an eight mile training run post bar crawl. During my run, which I was thoroughly impressed with myself I got through, I revisited the day prior's events and was pleased. Odd, they were, and I don't want to really go out with the very persistent Dr. Cox (so this should be interesting - do I do the direct 'no thanks' approach or aloofness, I wonder), but it was a good day. I realized I'm starting to feel like myself again. And this is a very good thing.

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