Cricket and Slurpees

Apparently, Virginia and I are brilliant at darts. Friday night, we went to The Auld Shabeen to watch my favorite local band and get in some R&R before V's first day on the job. After dinner, a few shots of SoCo and lime, an hour of playing marathon PictureMatch, and a few drinks, we were ready to play cricket.

Our neighbors were two twenty-something boys, well into their second pitcher. My boy, Jason, was the requisite Charlie Brown lookalike, with a backwards baseball cap, flip flop, and cargo shorts. He reminded me of Jack Black, with his mischievous smile and constant head nods. V's boy was much cuter, but much much drunker. He was sporting strategically frayed jeans, flip flops, and a tattered polo. We'll call him Drunkass.

In the beginning, we stuck to our respective dartboards. A few pitchers later, we invited the boys to play with us and proceeded to give them a championship spanking. Drunkass was all over V, waving his arms in a manner that would have made any high school basketball coach proud. Every now and then she'd give him a quick punch to the midsection to stave him off. I tried to run defense, but ended up being pulled back by the beltloops and held with two very nice, stocky arms. Soooo high school, I know, but there's just something sexy about a guy who puts his arm around you to whisper in your ear. By last call, I'd learned that they were both 25, worked with computers, and lived around the corner. No, I didn't tell them that we are a couple of cougars in comparison... When they announced last call, Jason indicated that they'd be going to 7-11 afterward, which started a monologue from V about her favorite 7-11 foods: hot dogs, slurpees, nachos with jalapenos...

Long story short, we declined, then I changed my mind halfway home. As we cruised into the 7-11 parking lot, I saw him, leaning against a railing, clutching a little bag of food. He escorted us inside, made small talk, and was generally being a sweetiepie. V stayed inside, creating the perfect hot dog and watching Drunkass scoop up hot dogs, ice cream, a breakfast sandwich... I went outside and gave Jason my number-- he was very excited that I wrote it on a 75 cents off Lean Cuisine coupon. Drunkass came stumbling out with his booty, yelling for J to follow, and our moment was soon over. As he walked away (backwards, waving at me), the homeless man on the corner yelled a thank you to him for his sandwich and soda. There's something to be said for 20 somethings!

I'm talking a big game, but we all know the truth: I hope he calls. I'll keep you posted.

PS: Chef Boyardee just wants to be friends. He's clearly gay.