garlic bread tells us about the date


He took her to a little spanish place on the inner harbor. It was a casual date, so they sat at the bar. He forgot she was a recovering alcoholic, but she wasn’t offended by the gaffe. He ordered me and a glass of wine (natch), the lady had a club soda, hold the lime. They talked. She ordered a refill. He talked. She nodded, especially when the topic came to Juliana Hatfield, his latest musical obsession (He just loves her guitar picking style, so melodic and wonderful, sometimes finding himself lost in her well-constructed choruses). But we digress, back to the date. He talked some more. About his blog (Editor’s note: Not this one). And his job- he writes for a website. She seemed bored or disinterested (maybe just playing hard to get?). She ordered yet another refill (He thought to himself, “Can you believe they charged me $4.50 for each club soda!? I think they should note that on the menu!”). He thought think she was drinking so much because she had nothing to say to him and needed an excuse to get up and go to the bathroom. He noticed she took her cell phone from the table (how rude to place it on the table in the first place, IMO) when she went to the powder room so she was probably calling a girlfriend of hers and telling her wonderful the date was going. When she returned he talked about politics. Then they parted ways (he picked up the bill, of course). He hopes she’ll call again. Criminy, being single is so lonely. I am covered in garlic, olive oil, and cheese.


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