03 June 2009

A First Date

I’ve been asked on my first real date since the breakup with my not-so-long-distance boyfriend.  The guy is really nice, fun, and though not my usual type, pretty darn cute – we’ll be calling him Little Bro.  Why would I call any guy that I am considering dating Little Bro?  Rest assured, I promise that choice of name will make more than perfect sense by the end of this post, so be patient darn you!

Little Bro and I met at Hooters.  Now to make it perfectly clear, I was not on shift when I met Little Bro and he had never seen me working there before – he was oblivious to my Hooters Girl status.  I was sitting at the bar, waiting for my best friend Ariel (not her real name obviously) to be done with work, enjoying a most delicious plate of boneless wings, hot, extra wet, when I met Little Bro.  Sitting just one stool down, Little Bro was also enjoying some boneless wings in his sauce of choice, Daytona. 

And that’s how it all began, over boneless wings and Big Daddy beers.  We talked effortlessly about anything and everything.  He made me laugh and he made me smile.  Little Bro had things I haven’t found in a guy in awhile – most notably a personality.  Then it happened, up walks my manager.  Prepared for her to tell me I couldn’t sit at the bar and to kindly move my ass, I had already grabbed my Big Daddy in anticipation, but that didn’t happen.

“How’s my little bro,” she said throwing her arms around my newly acquainted friend.

“Seriously, you know I hate that.  Do you really have to call me that?!” he answered back.

OMG, this guy was my managers little brother.  This just wasn’t some guy; this some guy was closely related to one of my bosses.  I stared at them as they talked and realized that this could become very interesting, very fast.  And now that Little Bro has asked me out to one of the nicer restaurants in town it has certainly become even more interesting.

“You better not break his heart or piss him off or anything.  I mean he’s our managers little brother, you gotta watch yourself,” Ariel offered.  Thanks for the words of wisdom, dear friend.

But I know she’s right.  What if it does get more complicated?  What if the shit hits the metaphorical fan?  I’m not a pessimistic person, but I could easily end up in one hell of a predicament.   So what’s a girl to do?  A girl goes on a damn date that’s what she does, but she treads lightly.  So Little Bro and I are hitting the town, he'll be here in half an hour.  Wish me luck and stay tuned.

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