A Tale of One City

I recently went on a date with a boy. Let's call him Greg. On the night of my date, my mom called asking what I was up to that evening. I told her that I had a date. Little Mimi asked if my date was with a respectable guy. With a grumbled sigh, I said..."Yes, mom." And then my mom said those three little words that every twenty-six year old daughter expects to hear..."No roofies, right?"

No? Roofies? Right? I very calmly told my mom that I would be hanging up now. She said, "Okay Laur, just one more thing. You're not going to blog about this, are you?"

Thursday night I was out with some friends at The Standard Biergarten. (I never know if I've spell that word correctly; it's kinda like kindergarten, and I just really want to type beer-garden). BGbabe and I were chatting with one another near the bar, when a guy approached us. After small talking for a minute or so, the guy explained that he had come over to ask if he could take me out to dinner. (Yes, he stated this to both Becky and I). Well, oh em gee. I was flattered, embarrassed, and baffled all in one. Did this guy have some balls, or what!? Yes. Was he also a genius, because he figured that there was no way I would turn him down in front of others? Yes. Did I think that he was kidding at first? Yes. And, did I ask him if Becky could come to dinner with us, too? Yes. All of the above, yes.

After getting over the initial shock that I had not only just been asked out to dinner in front of my Becca, I was also trying to figure out how long we had actually spoken for, which I believe was a collective thirty seconds, in which time--the only words that I had spoken were, "My name is Lauren." (Because, well he asked). Scintillating conversation, I know.

This guy, let's call him Bill, told me that I had caught his eye, because I was "his type." "Jewish with brown hair and freckles." I asked Bill, how he knew that I'm Jewish? After all, I could be Catholic, or Buddhist. Bill replied, "Lauren, are you Jewish?" "Yes, Bill. I'm Jewish." And sure, I have brown hair. (Although in college, I did dye it both blonde and red. Hindsight and I now realize that I made some pretty questionable decisions with a box of hair dye). And yes, before puberty hit, I was a full on freckle face. However, these days my freckles are pretty much undetectable unless I have been at the beach all day. And, so the moral of my story is: If you ask me out to dinner in front of my friend, I am going to say yes. (I wouldn't want to shoot you down and embarrass you in front of someone else. And also, I really enjoy food). Just don't be surprised if I ask to bring my best friend along too.