D Gets it DONE
My best CT friend, D of the famed, “D’s Dish”, has heard my wild and crazy Vermont stories since the day we became BFF. She’s talked to my VT (boy)friends on the phone, come up with her own nicknames for most of them and can basically recite all of the pertinent facts and figures of my relationship with all of them. (Not like it’s hard. 3 out of 5 of them have the same first name and as far as my relationship with them? It consists of…drinking, picking songs from the jukebox, and drinking.) But still, keeping track of everything isn’t easy and since all 5 of these boys have mild/faux crushes on me and I’ve kissed all but one of them I wanted her (expert) opinion. Because of this, we’ve always said that she needs to make the trip north to Vermont to check things out for herself.
Well, the last three days of my vacation? She came. To Vermont.
I knew she was getting close when I got two texts in a row:
4:47pm- Seriously. I’ve never been to Ireland. But if I had, I know this is EXACTLY what it would look like.
5:22pm- Okay. It’s like… so eerie and foggy. I’m waiting for a Stegasaurus to cross the road in front of me.
6:12pm- - Arrival!
We had dinner with my parents and headed down to one of my favorite bars to have a drink with a couple of my friends and my parents. I don’t know what it is about D but WHENEVER we go out in CT she has this ridiculous ability to get guys to pay attention to us ALL NIGHT LONG. Seriously. She gets embarrassed when I tell people this, but it’s true. She’s a babe. A confident, head-turning babe. My entire family has met her and they would agree with me, but I’m not sure they really believed my stories.
Well. We bellied up to the bar and I introduced her to the ‘tender. His first reaction? “Wow. You’ve got great hair.”
He’s not even gay. I kid you not, the girl’s got a gift.
I promised my friend/bartender at the bar 84 steps from my house that we would be visiting there before the night was over so we headed back towards home and moved onto another bar.
We got there, ordered drinks and he credit-ed up the jukebox for us. (Sidenote- -the best part about being friends with the bartender aside from the free drinks is CONTROL OF THE MUSIC!)
And? That’s all that I remember of the night.
Seriously. I woke up with a raging hangover, a crumb-ridden plate on my nightstand, and a friend sharing my bed. Good times.
We were able to piece together the remainder of the night through received/sent text messages and the pictures on my camera. It wasn’t pretty.
We pretty much laid low the next day until it was time to go out again. We did happy hour, headed down to the waterfront for dinner/drinks and stopped at the bar on the way home. The bar was very quiet when we got in there so we were just visiting with the bartender (4th of July Boy) when I noticed a VERY cute boy at the end of the bar. I’ve seen him in there before and he’s a red sox fan (what more do you need to know?) so I asked my friend (the bartender from the night before) for the low-down. He’s a regular (go figure), went to high school with the group of guys who hangs out in there and has a respectable job.
I asked him why this guy hasn’t hit on me by now (okay, I can be a little forward/self-assured when I’m drinking, but indulge me) and you know what his answer was? DO YOU KNOW WHAT HIS ANSWER WAS?!?!??!
“Oh, well, I think he probably things that K (4th of July Boy) has dibs on you.
…
…
…
…
DIBS?!?!??!
ON ME?!?!??!?!!?!??!
PUH-LEASE.
It was on.
I asked him to introduce us. He refused claiming he didn’t want to get involved. As we were arguing about it Cute Boy walks out of the bar. My opportunity was lost.
Turns out while homeboy wouldn’t introduce us, he had NO problem giving me Cute Boy’s number. So, what did Dana and I do?
That’s Riiiiiight.
We sent Cute Boy (now lovingly referred to as Jax) a text message. From my phone.
It read, “Hey, I should’ve said hi while you were here. You’re gorgeous. I’m the blonde sitting next to C.”
…
…
We had to sit there pretending that we weren’t DYING for a response.
13 hurried sips of beer later…
My phone vibrates.
D and I are internally SQUUUEEEEEING, but remaining calm and collected.
He responded, “You should have. I’ve seen you there before. I’ll be back in ½ hour- - had to let my sisters dogs out.”
And guess what? He came back.
And bought us shots.
And visited with us until the bar closed.
Even though he had to work in the morning.
And texted me when we got home that he’d love to hang out before I head back to CT.
We made tentative plans for the weekend, but some things came up and I couldn’t make it.
BUT… we have a date planned for the next time I’m home in a couple of weeks.
Moral of the story? D gets it DONE.
And I have a date with a non-bartender, non-hunter, non-high school rebel when I get home.
Woop Woop.
Well, the last three days of my vacation? She came. To Vermont.
I knew she was getting close when I got two texts in a row:
4:47pm- Seriously. I’ve never been to Ireland. But if I had, I know this is EXACTLY what it would look like.
5:22pm- Okay. It’s like… so eerie and foggy. I’m waiting for a Stegasaurus to cross the road in front of me.
6:12pm- - Arrival!
We had dinner with my parents and headed down to one of my favorite bars to have a drink with a couple of my friends and my parents. I don’t know what it is about D but WHENEVER we go out in CT she has this ridiculous ability to get guys to pay attention to us ALL NIGHT LONG. Seriously. She gets embarrassed when I tell people this, but it’s true. She’s a babe. A confident, head-turning babe. My entire family has met her and they would agree with me, but I’m not sure they really believed my stories.
Well. We bellied up to the bar and I introduced her to the ‘tender. His first reaction? “Wow. You’ve got great hair.”
He’s not even gay. I kid you not, the girl’s got a gift.
I promised my friend/bartender at the bar 84 steps from my house that we would be visiting there before the night was over so we headed back towards home and moved onto another bar.
We got there, ordered drinks and he credit-ed up the jukebox for us. (Sidenote- -the best part about being friends with the bartender aside from the free drinks is CONTROL OF THE MUSIC!)
And? That’s all that I remember of the night.
Seriously. I woke up with a raging hangover, a crumb-ridden plate on my nightstand, and a friend sharing my bed. Good times.
We were able to piece together the remainder of the night through received/sent text messages and the pictures on my camera. It wasn’t pretty.
We pretty much laid low the next day until it was time to go out again. We did happy hour, headed down to the waterfront for dinner/drinks and stopped at the bar on the way home. The bar was very quiet when we got in there so we were just visiting with the bartender (4th of July Boy) when I noticed a VERY cute boy at the end of the bar. I’ve seen him in there before and he’s a red sox fan (what more do you need to know?) so I asked my friend (the bartender from the night before) for the low-down. He’s a regular (go figure), went to high school with the group of guys who hangs out in there and has a respectable job.
I asked him why this guy hasn’t hit on me by now (okay, I can be a little forward/self-assured when I’m drinking, but indulge me) and you know what his answer was? DO YOU KNOW WHAT HIS ANSWER WAS?!?!??!
“Oh, well, I think he probably things that K (4th of July Boy) has dibs on you.
…
…
…
…
DIBS?!?!??!
ON ME?!?!??!?!!?!??!
PUH-LEASE.
It was on.
I asked him to introduce us. He refused claiming he didn’t want to get involved. As we were arguing about it Cute Boy walks out of the bar. My opportunity was lost.
Turns out while homeboy wouldn’t introduce us, he had NO problem giving me Cute Boy’s number. So, what did Dana and I do?
That’s Riiiiiight.
We sent Cute Boy (now lovingly referred to as Jax) a text message. From my phone.
It read, “Hey, I should’ve said hi while you were here. You’re gorgeous. I’m the blonde sitting next to C.”
…
…
We had to sit there pretending that we weren’t DYING for a response.
13 hurried sips of beer later…
My phone vibrates.
D and I are internally SQUUUEEEEEING, but remaining calm and collected.
He responded, “You should have. I’ve seen you there before. I’ll be back in ½ hour- - had to let my sisters dogs out.”
And guess what? He came back.
And bought us shots.
And visited with us until the bar closed.
Even though he had to work in the morning.
And texted me when we got home that he’d love to hang out before I head back to CT.
We made tentative plans for the weekend, but some things came up and I couldn’t make it.
BUT… we have a date planned for the next time I’m home in a couple of weeks.
Moral of the story? D gets it DONE.
And I have a date with a non-bartender, non-hunter, non-high school rebel when I get home.
Woop Woop.
posted by P in VT at 8:47 PM
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