Thursday, April 15, 2010

Out Of Practice

Last night I had dinner at Freemans with a buddy. I think their food's pretty good (not amazing, mind you) but man are their employees easy on the eyes. I was fairly drunk when we showed up so only got drunker as dinner progressed, ergo I was gettin' sassy with the waiter. At one point I straight up told him I didn't want to see the wine list but to bring me a glass of white that better not be fruity or I would return it. I'm glad he thought my captain demando streak was amusing because by the end of the meal we were so friendly that he brought us free glasses of champagne, my favorite kind! My buddy told me she never gets free shit there and that the waiter totally liked me. I gave her this weird look and practically yelled out, "But he's GAY!"

Well color me stupid but turns out he wasn't and he asked for my info. The point of this story is that I haven't gotten laid in a long enough time that I've completely forgotten what flirting is and apparently think all guys that flirt with me are homosexuals. In other words, I'm available boys, but better tell me flat out you wanna bones malone otherwise Imma think you're a 'mo.

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