Dear Red Shirt,

Dear Last Night's Date,
I will always pick my girl friends over you especially if they sound like they are going to have way more fun than I will on a date with you. See it was nice that you called me and planned to take me dinner and a movie (how cliche). However, it was your unlucky day. The night before W and I had met some very lovely canadians that bought us drinks and were a lot of fun. They then invited us out with them the next night (ie. they needed arm candy and would buy us drinks in return).

So red shirt when you picked me up from my apartment wearing the exact same thing I met you in a week or so prior I already had a hidden agenda if the date went south. And, oh, did the date go south. You take me to a Brazilian steakhouse; yes I do like to eat a lot however on a first date I don't want to come off as an animal. You will end up spending a lot of money and I will probably not eat your money's worth. Secondly, I proceeded to order a glass of wine you proceeded to order well water. If a girl orders a cocktail the polite thing to do is to order one as well; you are a guy I know you consume alcohol. At this point I knew this date was going to be a blast. Conversation was minimal you talked about your business ventures and your house never asking me about me.

When I went to the ladies room I immediately texted W to call me and say she was stranded and needed to be picked up or something all those lines in approximately 10 mins. At this point Red Shirt and I were in the car and was suggesting movies to see when W called. I immediately did the "oh really, I will be there". Explaining the red shirt that I must attend to my friend who is stranded. I do praise you Red Shirt that you did not ask questions and proceeded to take me home and suggest we hang out again. You then tried to kiss me, I let you kiss me on the cheek of course because I am a lady and was not intoxicated.
What happens next? Well I picked up W and then picked up A and A (I believe) and out with the Canadians.
-P


So, we met up with the hockey team, I forget how.  But we went to the Long Branch, a really sketchy bar in Raleigh.  The Canadians were highly amused.  We talked and flirted and taught them some country songs.  And then, lucky them, we took them for late night food at cookout. Clearly, it was the highlight of their trip.

After the bar, my feet hurt, of course. So Mario and his brother had to carry P and I up 4 flights of stairs to her apartment.  It was hilarious.  So, being really late in the evening, P and her guy went to bed.  And Mario and I took over her couches.

Mario talked my ear off til 5 in the morning. I was so tired. All I wanted to do was go to sleep.  So finally, I told Mario he could either kiss me then or I was going to sleep. So we kissed, and then I promptly went right to sleep.

But the funniest part of this story is that P has a thing for athletes. Any athlete. So while P's boy had implied he was a hockey player with the team, Mario, his half brother, came forward with the truth.  P's boy was a chef, not a hockey player at all.  The look on P's face when she heard was hilarious.  But, I was just sad that we didn't know this sooner, because we could have all used a gourmet breakfast.

We all overslept, and had to drop the boys off at their hotel the next morning.  Since the boys were late, the bus, and the entire hockey team was waiting for them when we pulled up.  They got a round of applause. Hilarious.

Mario still chats with me from time to time, despite being married with children these days. Creeper. (albeit a hot one)

-W