I had my first date in Maryland last night. It was a friend of a friend of a friend sort of thing. So we go out, and we’re having a lovely time, and we’re tossing back the pints and ounces until the early hours of the morning. So we go outside, and this is deep in Gaithersburg proper, so we’re waiting for a cab, and she starts to barf everywhere, on account of the whiskey and all that. And I’m, so to speak, several sheets to the ill wind myself, and I don’t want her to feel bad, so I look deep inside myself, and I barf. I mean, I force it, so it’s just a little, but I didn’t want her to feel like the odd man out, er, as it were, so I paint a bit of the curb. And we laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and I drop her off and promise I’ll call.
I call her this afternoon to see if she wants to go out again. The only part of last night she remembers is me barfing everywhere, and she wants nothing to do with me. I mean, what sort of cad barfs on the first date?
I’m not going to lie, I don’t like Maryland so far. This is some bullshit.