Sunday Night Lonely Heart's Club
For the past few months, Sunday nights are usually the night when I catch up with my favorite Bostonian bachelor and his love woes and any progress he's made toward courting the publishing intern of his affection. Let's just say that his efforts have been on a steady decline in recent weeks due to a couple of awkward hanging comments and unfortunate circumstances. I won't reveal his identity, but this week's chapter is really the most visual and has to be shared.
To preface this tale, here's the background you need to know. Our hero has two female coworkers - one of whom he's been fiercely chasing but hasn't been able to really take the relationship outside of work. He's been pushing for an afterwork drink, but instead he's had to settle for lunches that often go off on unexpectedly long and borderline absurd tangents. I'ved edited the conversation to make it readable.
M = me, H = him. This week's cinematically disasterous episode.
H: so here's what happened thurs. We went out, this time with jeanne, for some subs. Sarah said that she'd need to go to the atm, so i offered to buy her lunch. He accepted, and she ordered roast beef, which is what i get unfailingly, with each thing that i get on mine - ie, mayo, provolone, tomato, lettuce and salt and pepper. I cracked a few jokes, which she found funny. So, food in hand, we walk to fanueil hall to find a bench. I ask them if they'll be down for drinks afterward. They don't think that there'll be time. So i say, "ha HA! i knew you'd think so, so i've prepared in advance!" i whip out of my bag a flask and a bottle of tonic
M: (okay, that's creepy)
H: then i open the smaller pocket to get the glasses
PROBLEM
(i know it's creepy, but i figured it'd be worth taking a risk for the inherent humor value)
Anyway, the PROBLEM:
M: yeah -- what, no lime?
H: I try to pull out the glasses, but i forgot something key, in an effort to keep them from breaking i packed them -- not in limes, of which i had none -- but in my gym clothes. So the first one came out with my green boxer shorts wrapped around it. I go bright red, and throw them back in the bag. I pull out the other two glasses, and they're stuffed with my socks (clean socks, yes, but my fucking gym socks). So sarah very drily says, "I am not drinking out of that."
posted by lmjasinski at 1:48 AM
