Wasting the Pretty

Not to be girly or anything . . . but the dress was good, the shoes . . . really good, nails done and matching toenails (thus avoiding the bad karma of two weeks ago, hopefully), hair kinda plain at the request of my wing person (who insists that my hair IS the problem).

Went to bar no. one in the place where my friends all live. Arrived too early. And evidently, arrived not blonde and tan enough. Or didn't have big enough hair. Not sure what the problem was . . . by 11, had a girl talk to me as my friend went to the ATM. On the way out, had another woman touching my hair, telling me how gorgeous it was. I'm a hit with the ladies. Wonderful.

Went to bar no. two because we thought our colleague was DJing. He is in Disneyworld for the week. One woman complimented my hair. Former student came up and hugged me (why I hate going to that town). Another woman complimented my dress . . . though I'm not really sure what she said, other than "Dress" very loudly in my ear. Went outside . . . man complimented my hair, he and his brother started talking to us. They were making double entendres about sailing terms, which I was politely ignoring. Then one of them comes out with the "HJ" . . . "you know . . . hand . . ." and that was enough. My friend, who doesn't not tolerate a$$holes very well, if at all, was ready to go home.

So I'm home by 12:15. Could go out again . . . or could just wash my face and pick M1 up from the airport tomorrow all chipper. Dress was good though. And I'm good at picking up women . . . and complete a$$holes. Guess it isn't different from any other trip to the bar.