Oh, the Irony
Just a short story before the D-day, er, I mean, V-day weekend. I had some out of state friends come into town last night and we all got together for dinner and then went out to a bar. We got to the bar fairly early in the night, so there wasn't too much of a scene. As the night went on, however, the place began to fill up. There were quite a few attractive girls in the place, but my mojo didn't seem to be working for most of the night. In an effort to shake things up and make the night a little more interesting, we all decided to hit the dance floor.
We're out there dancing for a good while, when I catch the eye of an attractive brunette about ten feet away. Our eyes latch onto each other and her stare pulls me into her vicinity. The two of us begin to dance together and engage in a bit of small talk. She's there with a friend and some tool that the friend works with. We seem to connect well and we're both having a good time just dancing and flirting.
As the night progressed, we continued this little game of seduction, until I found myself wrapped up in her arms, kissing her. We were together for the rest of the night and left the club around 1:30 in the morning. The roommate and her friend refused to go home on their own, so the four of us sat out in front of the club trying to figure out what to do. The girl I was with had driven the three of them and all three of them were too drunk to drive. At this point, I was pretty much done for the night and just wanted to go home. I offered to drive them back to their place, but BarGirl didn't want to leave her car there. And, because the other two wouldn't leave, I couldn't really offer to take her back to my place (actually, I'd already ruled that out since I had to be at work in the morning and didn't want to spend an extra 30 minutes driving people home on my way to the office).
I finally convinced them to take a cab home. We said our goodbyes and when exchanging numbers, BarGirl tells me that her name is, and I quote, "No-H-Sara." Thinking about this site, I nearly started laughing right there in front of her (note that all the names on here are made up as I write the stories and No-H-Sara was a name that I made up for
The Torrid Tale of No-H-Sara story). Once the information was entered into both of our phones, she started in on this big production about how I really 'needed to call her' and she would 'definitely call me' and we should 'get together this weekend,' etc. In short, the desperation was oozing from every pore of her body. I bid them adieu and watched the cab drive off into the night.
