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Yes. I do have standards.

June 16, 2010

Last week went out with some friends on Wednesday night.


One of our girlfriends joined a bit late. She talked about how she thought all men she’s met in the last two years cheat.


Immediately following, she told me how she thinks she’s a 3.5 on the Kinsey scale, really wants to try “the girl thing” but is so very shy, and reminisced about the time, two years ago, when I made out with her. For “thirty minutes” (either I was drunk – well, more drunk than I thought – or that was a short thirty minutes. My memory says it was more like ten… but what do I know.) I think she would have preferred to be having this conversation from my lap.

She has. A. Boyfriend.

A bit later in our evening, a gentleman (or whatever) can over to us and asked if he could introduce my little 3.5 friend to his friend (what, do you wipe his ass for him too?). Upon learning she had a BF, he turned to the rest of us… because, yes. We are all as desperate as your friend there. Sloppy (ok not sloppy) seconds? Sure. Sign us up.


His friend started to come over… and then kept right on walking. I think it was the laughter that got him.

This guy (the parent, not his shy friend) then came over and handed me his business card, whispering “you need to e-mail me. Seriously.” He works for some production agency.


Wow. So your M.O. is to hand out your card and whisper mysteriously “you need to e-mail me” in the hopes that we will think “oh! A production company! Maybe he thinks I have talent or that I am amazingly gorgeous! Maybe I can be in movies! Maybe he will make me a STAR!!” and then e-mail you.

No work for him, and the girl isn’t shutting him down in public.


That’s amazing.


His production company (now I probably shouldn’t write this for sake of anonymity but I can’t help it) is called WayCü. As in… “I am way cooo dude!


That is even more amazing.

I left the bar to a text message from Amy, who left about a half hour before I did. It said “[bartender’s name] is pretty hot :)”. Turns out… said bartender stole her phone (she has a new one and we were discussing it – and the bartender likes us – this part wasn’t weird) and sent that text to me.

This morning, the bar had sent me a friend request on FB. By 8AM.

The thing is… Do I want to be having some sex? Yes. Could I be? Well, yes. Yes I could. Am I? No.

Damn you standards.

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