I met Mr. Life of the Party at a bar. I’d spotted him from across the room because he was funnier, taller, and cuter than everyone else. I marched over and told him as much. We talked for what seemed like hours, and before the night was over, he got a kiss and my number.
He called the next day, and we bantered wittily. Finally, he invited me to dinner that evening at his “favorite restaurant.” He gave me the address and asked me to meet him there.
I primped before heading to the designated location … only to learn the “restaurant” was a bar that served buffalo wings and the occasional nacho. Maybe he was trying to see if I was high-maintenance? Keep reading »