The day: Saturday
The place: Fairmount Wine & Martini Bar

Chris is in town visiting his mother, though he currently lives in Brisbane, Australia. He will be returning there next week. I’m looking forward to it. My father is Australian, like Chris’s daddy-o, which led into him saying “That’s the Australian in you talking,” every time I said something that was, apparently, Australian-sounding; like “I have tattoos,” or “I’ll take a vodka soda.”

1. He told me to wear something tight.
2. He’ll walk 3 miles each way for 3 beers and 1 shot, he said.
3. Drank 4 white wines to my 2 small vodka drinks.
4. Said he’d never taken a selfie before. Took a selfie on the date.
5. Said he could beat me in Jeopardy, followed by insisting I Google some Jeopardy questions for him to answer.
6. C: “I’m going to kiss you” *leans in*
Me: “Omigod no stop” *hastily covers mouth with hand*
C: “Why not? You’re chewing gum. That’s getting ready for a kiss”
Me: *hastily spits gum onto patio floor*

The day: Tuesday
The place: Panini’s on Coventry

Because I am a glutton for punishment, or some sort of weird social masochist, I agreed to meet Chris for the second half of the Tim Howard vs BEL World Cup game. I arrived and he was drunk, smoking like a chimney, sweating like a whore in church. It was otherwise fine until …

Chris said that soccer and football were very similar because they both have “plays.” Plays that often consist of team members looking for a hole to score through.

Yep. So pretty much every organized team sport on the planet is just like football. #shitammericanssay

Stop it, Chris.


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