Thursday, May 07, 2015

Derby Weekend, part 3

After the Derby, Lucy and I stopped in to a restaurant nearby to wait out the truly awful traffic. We had originally made dinner reservations but decided to change course after we waited a good 40 minutes just to get out of the parking lot on Friday evening.

So we're at this random taco restaurant that clearly doubles as a gross college bar. You know the type. It just smells like bad decisions. But the food was really decent. 

I grabbed a table while Lucy ordered us food. She was still in line when a very drunk kid teetered by, stopped in front of me and slurred "YOU ARE CUTE. YOU ARE SO CUTE."

I laughed and thanked him. I shook his hand and introduced myself and he asked "can I come back and talk to you later?" Well, of course you can! (I knew it would be a mess and I knew Lucy would love every second of it. It was just like old times!)

Did I mention that he was wearing a USA-themed muscle shirt?

He was wearing a USA-themed muscle shirt.

And he did come back. With a beer for me, which I politely declined. 

In addition to being very drunk, he was the ripe old age of 25 and told me all about where he attended high school. High school. Apparently he went to a prestigious high school in Louisville but, yeah, it's still high school and I'm still 32.

I feel like you have two options when an obnoxiously drunk dude puts you in such a situation:
1. You get all bitchy and ask him to go.
2. You sort of play along with it and ask him stupid questions and laugh about it later.

Lucy and I went with number two. It might have been 12 years since we were last at a bar together but Lucy and I have always gone with number two. That shit doesn't change And it was just lighthearted joking around that lasted, oh, maybe 10 minutes. 

Then this guy at the table behind us pipes up and says "you need to stop. You're being really mean to him." 

Excuse me?

Lucy got on her therapist speak later and said that the interrupter was just transferring his feelings onto my friend the drunk but I do halfway feel bad and halfway feel like the interrupter was just a huge asshole. Like that dude has any idea what it's like to be getting hit on like that. Fuck him.

Anyway. 

The drunk dude had friends with him and they were leaving. They stopped by to see if he was staying or leaving with them. Lucy was good enough to point out that we were driving back home that very night (it was a white lie but we were staying an hour outside of Louisville) and that we were NOT taking him with us.

So my new drunk friend left but it was after I gave him my phone number (ha! I panicked but I also thought it would bring additional entertainment) and we headed out of Louisville shortly thereafter.

Drunk dude gets points for calling me a couple of hours later (just to make sure we had really left town), instead of just sending a drunk text or a picture of his junk. I will give drunk dude points for that. 

I told my mom the story on Sunday and I was getting all braggy. "He's 25! I've still got it!"

She raised her eyebrows. So skeptical. "He was drunk, honey." 

Touché. 

1 comments:

Lisa from Lisa's Yarns said...

"It smelt like bad decisions" Hahaha. I know those kind of places. And hey, getting hit on by a 25 year old still tells me you've 'got it' even if he was drunk...

 
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