I really should not drink. Really. My other blog told about my big night out with the girls, but it did not tell you everything. This is the rest of the story:
I was having a good time with the girls, it's true. But when I saw T walk in with his date, I could not keep my eyes off them. It took about an hour before the rest of the woman at my table noticed them, but I knew that he was there. Maybe I was jealous--I don't know.
Then the conversation was all about T, the neighborhood's "man whore". They talked about his dates, and the current one at his table. Then Roberta regaled us with a rumor that she had heard about him, and we it was decided that it explained everything about why he was so popular. I'm thinking on investing in a pair of binoculars, by the way. But, I know that I wouldn't have the nerve to use them, Roberta is right about that.
Fast forward about an hour. Roberta had teased me because I was drinking iced tea (among other things--she wouldn't leave me alone), so I decided to prove to her that I could have fun. Those young guys at the bar sent over the pitcher of shots, and I tried one. Then I tried another. Then another. I remember feeling a little woozy as I rose to walk towards the bathroom. On the way back, I stopped at T's table.
He immediately knew that I was drunk, as I introduced myself to his pick of the night. I think that I actually said "So, you're the latest pick of the night?" Classy, right? He has never seen me in that condition, so I think that he was in shock. I said some more things that I don't remember, and his date was ruined--I would like to hope that it wasn't intentional. I didn't like her--I know that for a fact. She kept giving me dirty looks. He deserves so much better than her.
From that point on, I do not remember much, but I do know that he drove me home, and walked me to the door so that I didn't fall on my face. I remember thanking him and thinking that he was so damned handsome, and how I was so attracted to him. Then I somehow came to my senses. THANK GOD!
Fast forward to Monday at the home. While we waited for Frank to come back to the room, T told me that I hit on him several times on Saturday night--once making a comment about how big his hands and feet are (Chloe confirmed as much when I talked to her on the phone Sunday night. She said that I "wasn't myself" and should not drink shots anymore--Duh!)
T teased me further by thanking me for a so-called "great night". He fooled me for a second, because I remember something that I said at my front door that may have been a little flirty. Eventually, I saw through his ruse. His date was waiting in the truck, and nothing happened. Then he mentioned something about the heart shaped birthmark on my tummy, and now I'm wondering if I was dancing on the table with my shirt off. How does he know about that birthmark? I've got to find that out, somehow.
Meanwhile, my head was pounding so much that it could have split a mountain in half. T convinced me that he could make it go away with reflexology. I was in no mood to argue with him, and I was in so much pain that I would have tried anything. I agreed to have him try, and it was working. I was relaxed, and comfortable, but soon I felt sensations in certain places. Shocked, I quickly pulled my foot back like an airplane retracting its landing gear. He laughed, and said that he didn't mean to do it. I blushed, because I am not so sure that it was unintentional. Why do I always trust this guy?
Maybe it was revenge for ruining his date? I don't know, but it does make me wonder.
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