Dear Lucky,
You're 8th generation Texan halfsies raised in NYC. So far you are the winner in my Tinder Box (as my father calls it). Not in the Sir Slurs manner of competition.
You open with, "If I were to say "TEXAS!!" what would you say?"
I respond with, "Yeehaw!!!"
Fail.
You were looking for "fight", but I went to art school so I'm playing naive on that one.
I'm from Texas if that wasn't apparent. My tagline is TEXAS to BK. Clever I know.
You have some additional information in your tagline that includes your last name so I do my snooping. I like what I find. Pedigrees align. I'm well aware how obnoxious that statement is and I don't care.
You say you need a date to a Google hosted seersucker party. I love parties and anything that screams prep. Obviously I'm in. You send me a picture of yourself the day before in your seersucker suit. I appreciate people that don't take themselves too seriously. The picture is of Lucky doing what looks to be a walk of shame in a non sober state...during daylight with "winning" in red snap chap font over it. I wear a pink JCrew seersucker dress and killer heels. Your orange Vans are the same color as my orange Kate Spade bag. We couldn't have planned our outfits better if we tried. I want that picture.
I walk in and see you right away. I expected taller, but you aren't shorter than me so we're fine. You are very entertaining. I can see why you're so good at your job.
After 2 drinks and some hula hooping entertainment we move it on to Barraca for a pitcher of sangria. Convo continues and I'm falling in for it hook line and sinker. The childhood home your mother decorated was in Architectural Digest. I am an interior designer. Eye lash flutter.
Can't make a living on Tindering. Or can I?
Next up, Spring Lounge. I don't know why, but I love this dingy place. I even took the drummer here. All comes full circle. You're a regular so that makes it even better. I have been sick this week so I'm "juicing" like the hipster I can't deny I am at times. This makes for a less than ideal drinking state. My Irish blood runs thick, but this night I'm not hanging like the champ I usually am. I notice I'm drunk, because I catch a slurred word. Don't mess this up BWinTBC. Time to make my exit.
I've been coughing all night so I know a kiss isn't in the cards. I've already been invited on a golf outing and dinner next week. I was on the golf team in high school, but I haven't picked up a club in about 4 years. Monday is Ladies night at Chelsea Piers and I have enlisted my two amigos to help me shape my game up. I rarely put all my eggs in one basket, but some baskets are better than others.
Until dinner next week, non cough kisses Lucky.
xoxo
BWinTBC
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