Cliché Update
I think when you ask the waitress, “Should I be scared?” and she looks at you in horror and walks away, you know the mystery dude buying you a drink is unfortunate. I later received a note on a napkin that read, “Chris. If you wanna text: ### ####.” (a) WTF is that? (b) See “(a)” It also had 57 lines crossing out whatever he wrote the first time. Then I heard a bunch of British accents talking shot about me not drinking the drink. So, on my way out, I approached the group of 40- something year old men and asked, “OK. So which one of you is Chris?” They just kept eating, and one overweight dude goes, “I’m Chris.” (American host.) I vomitted in my mouth, and told a fictious tale if how I was dating someone, oddly enough, from England (All lies!) and to have a good night and thanks for the drink. Only shit like this happens to me. Why, Jesus, why?
