The wife and I went out to the bar with some friends Saturday night. And I see this girl sitting by herself, finishing her wine. When we walked in, she had a business book and had apparently finished her work. Now, I’m a pretty sociable person. I love strangers. So I meander over and tell her “When you’re finished being alone with your thoughts, come hang out with us.”
Now, this is not strange behavior for me, and the wife knows it. She’s come to accept that when I chat up other women, there’s nothing going on.
A minute or two later, everyone informs me that we’re bar-hopping. I invite the new girl to come with us. She agrees. At the next bar, we’re all crowded together, doing the typical dance of getting out of servers’ ways and letting customers pass by. I pulled up next to the bar and ordered a drink.
Then I tried to reach for this chair behind me without really looking at it. My thoughts: “Hmm, can’t find the chair. Oh, there it is. It’s fuzzy, not wooden…must have a coat on it. That’s weird, the coat is hard. And tall.” So I turn to look at it. It’s the shirt/waistline/ass of the new girl, who had moved the chair and was standing in its place.
And behind her, stands my wife. Looking at my hand. Then me. Then my hand. Then me. :mad::mad::mad::mad::mad::mad::mad::mad:
Hey, it happens. I’ve gone for a hug with a female friend and accidentally grabbed a boob. Everybody laughs, moment over. If it happens every time you do it, then it’s a problem.
You just picked up a random chick in a bar for a night out with the two of you? You know, when I hung out with you that time, you didn’t tell me that you all were swingers…
No, but I did tell you we were Couch Surfers, who routinely meet strangers and let them stay in our house. And actually, it was a night out with the six of us. Incidentally, one of the couples said they had someone on their couch for 22 days this month.
