March 18, 2009...9:46 pm

What happens when you are me: Part 1 of 2

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This story needs one preface and one backstory before I can fully launch it into space.  Lezzgo.

Preface:  Rhode Island is a tiny state (If you didn’t know that, please stop reading this blog as you are in 5th grade and a minor).  When you go out on the town, it is common to see people you know, or simply people you recognize as just people that are always out downtown.  I’ve never experienced anything like it.  If you are going to a bar that you saw someone at the last time you were there and you think “Oh, I hope I don’t see this person again tonight”, you will absolutely 100% see them.  Absolutely.  (If this were English class, what I just wrote would be called foreshadowing.)

Backstory:  On my birthday, we were all sitting at our table putting on fake mustaches and taking pictures… you know, no big deal.  Standard operation.  One of the chefs from the place walks by our table and we hear him laugh out loud at our antics.  Oh HAYELL NO.  NOBODY LAUGHS AT ME AND WALKS AWAY, BITCH.  

Just kidding.  He could laugh at me all he wants and get away with it, butttttt he was sexy.  Therefore I used his laughter as an excuse to berate him and taunt him into coming back to talk to us.  And then we made him put on a mustache and take this picture:

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Then he walked away and I was left being like “That guy was sexy.  Fucking sexy.  And he put on a mustache and took a picture with us without complaint.  I am in love.”

So then Sara, being the awesome amazing awesome that she is, apparently went up to him and asked him to have a drink with us after he was off.  She tells me this and I’m sure I lovingly groped her in excitement.   

Several drinks later, things are a little fuzzy but I am realizing that he never came over.  I make Sara come on a trek with me to find him, and that trek involved: walking to the dining room and back, all in under 30 seconds.  Hahaha.  And this walk apparently proved to us that he left and was not coming to drink with us.  Excellent.

So I wake up the next day to this random picture of the sexy chef in my iPhoto and no name or number.  

*****FAST FORWARD*****

St. Patty’s day.  White Chocolate and I decided we needed to drink at 3 p.m. because we both had nothing to do, and why the hell not.  I actually think I have never gone out out on St. Patricks day, but now I don’t know why.  The fun I was missing!

So we go to this one bar, and it is full of exceptionally old motherfuckers.  Beerbellytown everywhere you look.  We have to try another place, and the only Irish  bar within walking distance is:  The bar I went to on my birthday.  Woo fucking hoo.  But this is Providence for you.

TF shows up around 5:30 and the three of us are hanging out.  I go to the bathroom and in my way back, bump into someone tall, dark and handsome.  The.  Fucking.  Chef.  Of course.

Of course.  We DEFINITELY recognize each other, but he is mad shady and keeps walking through the crowd without saying more than “Hey, what’s up…” 

Back with TF and White Chocolate, we are laughing and hanging out at the bar when I get a text.  And you will never guess who it was from… Main Man Mike, that’s who.

MMM:  Hey… going out to [irish bar I was currently standing in] around 7 if you’re interested.

Beth: Uhmmm… actually, already here.  Ha.  So I guess I will see you soon?

I mean, I believe that it spells C-L-A-S-S when a guy texts you to meet him out at a bar and YOU ARE ALREADY THERE.

So it gets to be about 6:50 and TF and White Chocolate want to leave.  I, of course, have had one too many and am begging them both to stay so I can see MMM or The Chef or Anyone Interested In Dating Me.  They agree (best. friends. ever.), as long as we can get a table to sit down and chill at and I pay for the next round of drinks.  Obliged.  

We get our table and sit down and notice that The Chef is over on our side of the bar and is talking to an ugly girl.  TF, being the most amazing TF that she is, goes RIGHT UP to him and tell him to come to our table (God, I fucking love that TF).  He tells her he will be over in a minute and this is hilarious and amazing to our drunken selves.

All-of-a-sudden, it’s 8 p.m. and I realize Mike is nowhere to be seen… I text him “Are you here?” and hit send.  I look up from my phone, and into the deep brown eyes of The Chef, standing there, waiting to talk to me.

AND here is where I pull an SO@24 and do a “To Be Continued…”  Evil, I know, but I will be back tomorrow with the rest.  It is worth waiting for, I promise…

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