Say “Hello” to Your Mother for Me

Last summer my college friend and I had decided to go out with two of her friends and do a night on the town.  We went to the only Faneuil Hall bar I actually like, The Black Rose, where we happened upon zombies.

            Note: I am terrified/enthralled by zombies.  Look I know they’re not walking around right now, its just that "now" is the operative word...

Ok so these were people dressed up as zombies drinking in the bar.  I was able to maintain my composure and one of my companions revealed to me that some people like to do this routinely.  I guess I am out of the loop.  We left the Rose and headed to my favorite late night bar, JJ Foley's.

We had chatted with several people before I went to get a refill of my beer.  I noticed these two guys staring at us for a bit and after I got my drink the dark haired one of the pair asked me for an introduction so he could say hey to my “good looking friend.”

Ok let us ride a tangent for a bit, my “good looking friend?”  So you’re implying that I am not good looking, and that my fellow pals are also not good looking because it should be clear to whom you are referring? [erroneous on all counts]

He elaborated that he meant “the tall one.”  Slightly annoyed I replied that, they are all tall (all at least 4inches taller than I am), all good looking and if he would like to speak to one of them he can be a grown up and come over and introduce himself.  I would not make an introduction to my friends for a man I do not know and who has already insulted me.  In the meantime dark hair's sidekick decided to come with as I was followed over to my group of Amazonian friends.  We shall call the sidekick Big Red because he was the first and only red head who has ever hit on me.  They actually struck up a cohesive conversation.  In this conversation we learned that they were both 22.  At the time I was 25 but three years at this age, especially when these guys had just graduated from college, makes a bit of a difference..  Our goals are different, our experiences in the real world are different and lastly I have a weird thing about being older/getting older.  I will admit that the last variable probably plays into more of my decision making than it should

We continued to talk and my friend's friends were somewhat preoccupied with other dudes with whom they decided to leave. Big Red and his friend invited us back to Red's place.  We take a cab back to  place in Dorchester where we learn as we enter the door that he actually lives with this older sister (for the record she is not a ginger).  Mind you it is pushing past 3am and were it me, I would not enjoy having my little brother stumble into our home with 2 tramps.  Thankfully we are/were not tramps and she was actually very cool. 

After drinking a lot of water I had to go to the ladies room quite often and apparently every time I left the table Red would ask my friend if I was single in a plethora of approaches.  To each my friend responded, “I don’t know, ask her.”  He did ask later and after my next bathroom trip he changed focus on my friend's interrogation and asked my friend if he could "make out” with me.  (since when do I walk around with my very own lady pimp?) Ugh…ok another thing that is a huge difference between a guy of 22 and a man of 32.

Don’t ask to kiss me.  You’ll know if I want you to and then you should just go in for the kill.

The dark haired one and my friend  retired to the couch and Red’s sister had also gone to bed.  So I sat down in the kitchen and all of a sudden Red grabbed my face and said, “Can I kiss you?”

I thought we covered this.

Had he been a little older and wiser and had this not been 5am I might have been into it.  Instead I said, “Wow you really cut right to the chase, ay?” Apparently oblivious to my sarcasm, he proceeded to make out with me in front of our friends.  Ugh I felt like a freshman in a frat house but without the numbing effects of jungle juice.

So it was not very good, and in my book if you’re not a good kisser you aren’t going to be.  I told him that I needed to lie down without funny business so I could wait for my friend to be ready to leave. We both retired in his room and mercifully he only attempted to grope me a couple times. He soon fell asleep but not before he told me he respected me for being up front about my intentions (ugh ok?). WIN!  I tried to sleep but because I’m not into sleeping in strange boy’s beds I could not and so I lay there awake until Red's partner in crime unceremoniously came into the room to tell me I was wanted.  Thankfully my friend had an equally interesting past couple hours and was ready to go. 

We looked for our things and decided to call a cab at 7:30am…only we don’t know where we are and Red and his pal were passed out like a couple of toddlers after snack time.

So I did what any savvy twenty-something gal would do. I went through his mail.  I found the address, called a cab dispatcher (who by the way was very judgmental) and told him to step on it.  I didn’t want to be rude and not say good bye but Red was not waking up anytime soon.  So I put my thinking cap on and found a Chinese menu and a broken pencil (all that was available for writing implements).  I decided I would leave him a goodbye letter….

Red,

Thanks for the good time.  Have a nice day.

True poetry, no? (I actually wrote Red)

As my friend and I road home we discussed what an unsuccessful evening it had been: no roof-deck, no dogs, and young boy behavior.  Her dude was way worse than Red, but then again that is not my story to tell.  Anyway we realized we are getting older and expecting more out of our evenings.  The hot breeze of that June morning passed through the cab on our shame ride home.  We decided the only way to turn this night around was to hit up Dunkin Donuts and so we did.