man i need to write a fucking book on how to not date girls. I met this girl 2 times randomly at different bars and finally got her number. I call her last night and tell her me and a few friends. I hate calling girls, used to the comfortable interface of aim, but she actually remembers who i am and accepts my invitation to go out.
I drive Ian to work and he asks me where i’m taking her. I giggle and he drops it. He asks again, where i’m taking her, i giggle out of control again. He goes “well, i guess i’ll read about it on the site”.
On the way to pick her up, my dad calls and asks what i’m doing. I say im on my way to pick up a girl for karoake. He warns against the scenario and i laugh and say it’ll be okay.
It must suck knowing you’ll never be a grandfather.
Since it’s a Wednesday, i take her on my normal Wednesday warpath. I drive out to pick her up in Germantown, stopping to pound a 32oz of Natural Light, and then find her apartment. I get there early, chewing gum to kill that terrible smell of shit beer and we drive back to midtown.
Cut to Neils, the mother of all fucked up bars. I help Scarlett to the table since she’s on crutches after falling down a elevator shaft. She’s really sick of telling the story. I would be too.
I grab the karoake book, sing Lucky Star and sit back down. It was a great performance, Madonna would be proud. A bunch of Crown and Cokes later, i’m back on stage screaming Sister Christian. It was great, i love that song.
We go to Alex’s for more beer and food, Scarlett rides with Angie, i’m pretty sure they talk about me, we drink more and i drive her home.
Lessons learned? Karoake is not a good dating technique but beer is?
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