Napkins and Milk

Friday night we re-visited The Room.  Within 10 minutes of walking in I decided I was going to give one of the bartenders my number.

What?!

I know.

I never actually ordered a drink or talked to a bartender the whole night.  But I wrote my number on a napkin and kept it in my pocket until it was time to go.

Did I want the bartender to call me?  I don't know, I never talked to him.  He had a nice smile.

It was more about the action of me handing him the napkin.  A self-proposed challenge.  I've never given my number out like that before.

We're walking out and 90% of me wanted to leave without actually giving him the napkin.  E.G. stepped up and pretty much yelled at me.

Do it!  He's right there!  Do it now!

It took me a good 5 or 6 minutes of standing at the bar whining until I forced myself to do it.

He flashed his adorable smile at me and I shot one back before walking out.

I survived.  Now I can never go back there again.

Saturday I jumped down to Huntington and experienced the beach boy scene.

Um, the people watching down there is fantastic.  I'd go back for that alone.

A few guys approached me, the most notable being a guy who grabbed my hand, kissed it, and then asked me if I wanted a drink.

No thanks.

How about a mineral water?

No, I'm good, thank you.

Milk?

There's where I lost it.  Laughing, I turned to my friend to inform her that this dude just asked me if I wanted milk.  In a bar.

Time to leave.  We relocated to a friend's apartment to finish out the night.  Hello second hand high.

On the way there I said I'd take it anywhere I could get it.

Pretty much sums up my current state of mind.