[Hat tip to @Obi Vol Kenobi for the fantastic comparison made in the WVU Live Thread forum, and thus the idea from which this is born.]
So, I was recently on a business trip to Charlotte, and hoped to meet up with a few friends before hanging out at some dive or other where I could watch the game. Meeting up with the friends was fine, of course – the usual back-slapping and stories of how none of us can drink as much as we used to back in the glory days of college – but then my old roommate texted me out of the blue. I guess he saw on my FaceSpace page that I was going to be in the area, but anyway, he said he knew of a lady that had just gotten out of a pretty bad relationship and who I might want to meet. Naturally, I had to ask about what we had in common and all the usual A/S/L kind of stuff that’s on the back of your relationship baseball card… and naturally, he said that she was a total smokeshow back when she was in college in the 90s… and not much else. Being only slightly less superficial than Shallow Hal, that little nugget sealed the deal. Besides, I’m hardly ever in Charlotte, so even if she turned out only to have a great personality, it wasn’t really a big deal.
She texted first – eager, not always a good sign, in my experience – and after a short text exchange we settled on a place near the hotel where I was staying. Something about a duck. I’d heard a few other of the Vol faithful were going to have a gathering there, so even if things fizzled fast I’d be able to have an adult beverage with other folks in the $9.95 a month club.
The duck place was crowded, with more than a few obnoxious West Virginia fans… but it wasn’t pretentious and had a good selection of beer. Although I’m much more a scotch aficionado, I liked that she wasn’t afraid to meet up in a somewhat blue-collar spot. It might be a bit presumptuous, but it makes me think that a person is a little more down to earth when they pick a spot like that. Besides, even if I struck out, I wouldn’t have to plunk down a ton of cash to pretend I’m not a poor. A few minutes after sitting down at the bar, I got a text from her letting me know she was there.
Boom.
If Bo Derek was a ten, and Spinal Tap’s speakers went up to eleven [a goofy line I thought about using, but discretion was the better part of valor, so I didn’t play the river card first], then this lady was a… well, probably a nine, if I’m being realistic, but hey, if I were quite so choosy I wouldn’t be on a blind date in the first place. Still, I got to feel pretty good about myself when every guy in the place watched her walk up and give me that weird butt-out hug that women give you. I asked what she wanted to drink, ordered it, and after the bartender handed it over I went over to where she’d sat. It was going to be a good night, after all.
So, I was recently on a business trip to Charlotte, and hoped to meet up with a few friends before hanging out at some dive or other where I could watch the game. Meeting up with the friends was fine, of course – the usual back-slapping and stories of how none of us can drink as much as we used to back in the glory days of college – but then my old roommate texted me out of the blue. I guess he saw on my FaceSpace page that I was going to be in the area, but anyway, he said he knew of a lady that had just gotten out of a pretty bad relationship and who I might want to meet. Naturally, I had to ask about what we had in common and all the usual A/S/L kind of stuff that’s on the back of your relationship baseball card… and naturally, he said that she was a total smokeshow back when she was in college in the 90s… and not much else. Being only slightly less superficial than Shallow Hal, that little nugget sealed the deal. Besides, I’m hardly ever in Charlotte, so even if she turned out only to have a great personality, it wasn’t really a big deal.
She texted first – eager, not always a good sign, in my experience – and after a short text exchange we settled on a place near the hotel where I was staying. Something about a duck. I’d heard a few other of the Vol faithful were going to have a gathering there, so even if things fizzled fast I’d be able to have an adult beverage with other folks in the $9.95 a month club.
The duck place was crowded, with more than a few obnoxious West Virginia fans… but it wasn’t pretentious and had a good selection of beer. Although I’m much more a scotch aficionado, I liked that she wasn’t afraid to meet up in a somewhat blue-collar spot. It might be a bit presumptuous, but it makes me think that a person is a little more down to earth when they pick a spot like that. Besides, even if I struck out, I wouldn’t have to plunk down a ton of cash to pretend I’m not a poor. A few minutes after sitting down at the bar, I got a text from her letting me know she was there.
Boom.
If Bo Derek was a ten, and Spinal Tap’s speakers went up to eleven [a goofy line I thought about using, but discretion was the better part of valor, so I didn’t play the river card first], then this lady was a… well, probably a nine, if I’m being realistic, but hey, if I were quite so choosy I wouldn’t be on a blind date in the first place. Still, I got to feel pretty good about myself when every guy in the place watched her walk up and give me that weird butt-out hug that women give you. I asked what she wanted to drink, ordered it, and after the bartender handed it over I went over to where she’d sat. It was going to be a good night, after all.
