Har, BeCuz, Bruiser, LaLaLovely and I met for drinks and dinner. Bruiser is always early; BeCuz is either early or right on time; Har and I are always late (we like to blame that on being Greek – even though I’m not); and LaLaLovely, well, she’s fashionable.
By the time LaLaLovely arrived, we had already started imbibing. “Looks like you’ll have to catch up,” I advised her. “Oh I’ve been drinking since noon,” she replied.
As we enjoyed our beverages and waited for our entrees, the owner of the restaurant sent complimentary appetizers to our table. They were delicious, as were our entrees and, although we had closed our tab, we received additional gifts from the owner – desserts. A few minutes later, a round of mojitos – courtesy, again, of the owner. Sadly, Bruiser, BeCuz and Har had to head out, leaving behind their complimentary mojitos. “Looks like we’ll have to ‘clean up’ their drinks,” said LaLaLovely while giggling, grabbing a mojito and beckoning a man standing outside the restaurant patio.
“Who is that?” I asked. “My ex from high school. Don’t you remember him? I told him I was out with the girls drinking and he knew I would need a ride,” she advised me. “You still talk to your high school ex?” I asked in awe. “Yes, he’s really nice, but…” she stopped mid-sentence because he had arrived at the table. She was right, he was really nice and, clearly, willing to go the extra mile (literally) for a friend. Apparently, he had taken the bus and then walked about a half a mile to get to the restaurant. I inquired about what he does for a living and quickly learned why things may not have worked out for them and why, years later, they still ‘stay in touch.’ “I’m a real catch,” he told me, smiled and added, “If you’re stable and established, I’m your guy. I’m good for three things: companionship, affection and sex.” He clearly forgot his fourth attribute: designated driver.
Before we went our separate ways, LaLaLovely whispered to me, “We’re Vegas, right?” “Vegas?” Unlike a dealer with a deck of cards, I wasn’t picking up what she was laying down. “You know, Vegas. What happens between us stays between us,” she stated. “Oh, yeah, totally,” I replied and added, “Unless, of course, I blog about it.”