Under the Arch

So, it's been an interesting week. I was contacted by an old friend out of the blue early last week. (friend? man that I briefly dated? friend? not really sure on that one)   He was the first match.com date that I, you know, dated, so I was hardly surprised that he just wanted to be friends after 3 weeks. What a difference a few months make, I had no idea what I was doing and I'm sure I confused the crap out of the poor guy, I was impossible to read. He wants to hang out again, which is nice, since he lives within walking distance. The timing is fortunate, spending time with him wouldn't have been possible even a week ago due to the ex-boyfriend's jealousy issues.

I was up for something Wednesday night, but he was studying for his boards, so I called my friend Johnna to see if she wanted to go to the bar. She did, of course, and we drowned our mutual annoyance with the men in our lives in cherry bombs, tequila sunrises, and laughter. I woke up the next morning feeling more positive about the state of the world, but not the state of my head. So, Thursday was hangover day, and other than a trip outside to have lunch at a little place called Biggies which oh my god, has an excellent burger, I spent most of the day in bed.

Friday, I was sure that I was going to stay home...but then my new friend Will called to ask me if I wanted to go dancing. And I have a weakness for dancing. We went to Novaks, which is one of the bars on Manchester in south city and danced our little hearts out.

Will and I have this running joke about doctors and how the only way I'll ever be able to afford these Chanel shoes we both covet will be by sleeping with a rich man who will buy me presents. Now, this is a JOKE, mind you, I would never sleep with someone in order to coerce expensive shoes from them. That would, of course, be wrong. Ahem.

Aaaanyway, we were trying to pick out a doctor in the crowd, and one guy in particular was eying me and attempting to work up the courage to come over and talk to me when Will got in his head that this guy must be a doctor. I said there was no possible way that a doctor would come to a bar trolling for women dressed like that. We bet a shot on it and I...went to the dance floor, but I can't remember why at the moment. The tequila insisted that I shake my ass, I guess. Will found me a couple of minutes later triumphant.

"He's a doctor! I TOLD you!"

"What the hell is he a doctor of, exactly?"

"Bats!"

"That doesn't count! Has to be a MEDICAL doctor! No shot for you!"

Poor guy, he must have been so confused.

I'm going to leave you with this much of my weekend cuz I'm going to bed now, but there's more to come....