It was Chicfila Wednesday at my house when I received a phone call from my Aunt T. She lives about an hour away from me but she was in my area at a hotel with some friends of hers. And guess what. She met someone that she would really like to set me up with.
I laughed and got the details.
Ferris Bueller was newly divorced. Had two small children. Worked as a pilot for the FAA and was in town training and called San Diego home. Bottom line- my aunt felt sorry for him and wanted me to go out with him. Ah, well, she thought he was nice and I'm sure he didn't grope her when they met so how was she to know.
We met at the hotel bar for drinks and apps on Friday evening. He did look like an older Ferris Bueller. Short like him too but cute enough. I wore my short heels for him. The conversation was easy and we decided to move to a real bar with a live band.
I don't think he was drunk but maybe he was.
Let me just say I am an affectionate person. I like to hold hands. I like to hug and kiss. Public displays of affection don't bother me one bit.
But I'm not really interested in being felt up on the first date in a bar in front of everyone! Jeez! I politely with a laugh moved his hand south of the bosom firmly on the waistline because I'm a cool chick that way. Maybe he's nervous. I'm sure he hasn't been on a date in a while.
The night went on. It was fun. It was okay. It wasn't a love match or anything but it was a night out.
And then it was time to end. And Mr. Groper turned into Mr. Begger.
Please see me again. Please, please! Please come up to my room. Please, please. Please touch me. Whoa! Seriously men! Save it for another date other than the FIRST! Unless of course she's touching you and then by all means go with it if you want to.
I suddenly turned into Ed Rooney wanting to get Ferris Bueller expelled.
Expelled from my car!
It was pitiful and sad and I felt sorry for him but not sorry enough to touch him.
Groper? Groper? Groper? Groper? Groper?
No comments:
Post a Comment