I’m officially old. This month marks one year since I’ve graduated from college. I did it. I got through a whole year without begging my folks for money, I’ve been self-supportive (with the exception of a few loaners from mamadooks) AND, to top it all off, I’ve made it to the Big Apple all by my self, thank you very much.I don’t make a ton of money in my entry-level job, and now that I’m a working girl, my days of partying on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, are no more. Not only because I’m too tired at the end of the day, and, as previously stated, old, but because this city is freaking expensive.
But the weekends are another story. Yea baby. I go out. I go out good!
Last Friday night me and one of my girlfriends, a fellow Florida Stater, wanted to reminisce our college days, so we headed over to Brother Jimmy’s on the Upper East Side. It’s a super fun bar that really caters to the alumni of the A.C.C colleges, like UNC and Duke. There are a few locations scattered around the city, and if you ever go, you have to order the “Charlotte Tea Party” – a tasty mixture of all top shelf liquor in a huge jar for 25 bucks. I told you it was expensive here. But, very worth the splurge.
Anyway, we started talking to these two guys. Both cute, well-dressed, and clear of my Top 5 Male Fashion Blunders.
So this guy turned out to be a really sweet and seemingly normal lawyer/musician. We had a great conversation and even though I was a bit tipsy, I kept it cool. Meanwhile, his friend was hitting on my friend with the oh-so-romantic “How hot are YOU?” line, which, needless to say, didn’t get him anywhere. And neither did, “You’ll never believe me, but I work for the FBI. I really do.”
After about an hour of talking to my guy, I realized I had no idea what his name was. Absolutely none. Brad? Gary? Mitch? Who knows. I couldn’t just ask him after all that time, for fear of killing the tiny sparks between us. And then, the cell phones emerged. I put my name and number into his phone, and proceeded to hand him mine so he could do the same. Then I’d get his name! Genius! But, disaster struck:
“Oh, let me just call you so you have it.”
DAMMIT. Plan unsuccessful.
And so, it was time to say goodbye to Brother Jimmy’s, the college surroundings and my mystery man. He helped me into a cab and kissed me on the cheek. And I still have no clue what the hell his name is. Guess I’ll have to wait the “3 Day Rule” to find out.
It’s hard out here for an old, tired pimp.