well, let me start by saying:
brian stranded me at the gay bar last night with just a text message saying: get home, hooker
given that it was a good night, i did get home, and it was his birthday, i’m not mad about it. i find it funny more than anything that this morning, the first thing he did was stumble into my office, flop onto the couch face first and tell me he has no memory of how we got home from the bar last night.
we?
YOU left me at the bar.
that about summed it up.
he didn’t believe me so he checked his phone and there it was: get home, hooker
the cab driver who took me home last night was really chatty though. i asked him if it was a crazy day because it was pride weekend. he said earlier, he drove this really drunk woman home from the abbey and she asked him for sex. he said she was really unattractive, but she was so drunk and started taking off her clothes and pawing at him through the window that he stopped and let her kinda go down on him, but it was bad. i asked if she paid the fare and he said no, she didn’t have any money.
i don’t know if i believe him, but he sure was happy telling that story.