I can’t believe you or “the boys” or anyone for that matter enjoyed seeing me stumble around half-comatose on a bar. Days later, I keep thinking about my first date, when I was 15, and the guy took me to some far-off restaurant, and I didn’t know how to get back to my house, and had to call my step-dad for directions. My stomach tenses and I cringe in embarrassment.
I mean, kissing is all and well, but dancing on a bar? Sheesh.
Thank God! I thought I was having another one of those prom-homecoming-queen-head-cheerleader-most-popular-girl moments. I didn’t do the royal hand wave I’ve been practicing all these years or blow kisses, did I?
I’m sure ya’ll were just making fun of me, anyway.
Not me, my friend. I’m planning a world tour with a live stage show re-creating the events of the evening. You coming, Tripler? You’ll get top billing as “Dirty Boy With the Sexy Accent.”