The evening started tamely enough. We met at our favorite watering hole and were delighted to find that our favourite waitress was working. By favourite I mean this girl (by girl I mean she’s 29, which we learned on Friday evening, which completely blew us away because we thought she was 20, bitch) comes to our table and sits down with us for 15 minutes to catch up on the happenings since the last time we were there. We LOVE her.
After about twenty minutes of chatting and drink ordering we hear a masculine voice say, “Of all the places to run into the fearsome four”. And it’s our director of programs. When I say director of programs, think Richard Gere. Yeah I know. If this man had any idea how we salivate over him and have wet dreams about him he would absolutely die. He has no idea just how sexy he is. So he would be B, G and K’s boss. Let’s call him Richard just for simplicity sake. I actually work for Richard’s boss so technically, in the hierarchy of work; I would be the only one that does not report to sexy Richard. Sexy Richard and K are good friends outside of work. They are both runners and run together on a regular basis. G and B have the whole “You’re our boss so therefore we have to act all professional and prim around you but behind your back wed love nothing more than to get busy with ya, if we were single, and you were single” thing going on. That is until they get a couple of glasses of wine under their belt. Then the fuck’s start flying and the stories start flowing and poor Richard was dying to stay with us for the evening but had a prior commitment with “the boys”.
A good part of the evening was spent discussing age. When I sit with these women I don’t feel 10 years younger than them. To me there is no difference in age amongst us. K then started spouting off that my boobs aren’t nearly as floppy as hers and I have no laugh lines or wrinkles in my forehead. So we decided to do an experiment of sorts. It was highly scientific let me tell you because we were all drunk by this point. So we started stopping random people walking by our table and asking them who they thought was the youngest person at the table. Yes, we are retarded, what was your first clue? The women we stopped were quick to answer. The guys we stopped hedged ALOT, there was no way in hell they were putting themselves in a situation of pissing off a table full of inebriated woman by answering incorrectly.
Out of the nine people we asked, 9 of them guessed I was the youngest. Yeaaaah for me! By the ninth person, I could tell the girls just wanted to stop this game and drop kick me out of the group. I get really
Hi guys!! How are you this evening?
Guys – sort of lean their bodies away from me, raise their eyebrows and respond, “Good?”
Me: Listen, I’m wondering if you could do me a favour?
Guys – looking around for the closest exit
Me: I’m at a table over by the back window with three girlfriends...
Guys: Get a little more interested....
Me: We’ve been doing a bit of an experiment and I’m wondering if you can help me out.
Guys: Leaning in closer now...
Me: I’m wondering if the four of you, one at a time, could casually stroll by our table and when one of us stops you and asks you which one of us you think is the youngest I want you to give the following answers.
I then proceed to designate one of the other girls to each of the guys. The girls all very different in looks so this was a bit of a no brainer.
And the guys are sitting there looking at me and they keep looking behind me and I can only wonder if they were looking for the man with the white coat to come and take me away, but they did it. As each guy approaches the table I would say to one of the girls, “Ok, let’s ask him” and one of the girls would stop him and ask him and on cue the guy would stand there, ponder a bit and give the proper response. To give credit where credit is due the guys played this to the hilt and the girls had no idea they were pawns in my little game.
The girls were shitting themselves with glee. So we sit laughing and talking and drinking some more and our waitress comes over to the table and puts down a bill in front of me. I looked at her quizzically and she says, “This is the bill for the round you bought the four guys up at the bar.”
The table goes dead silent and K says to me, “T, you didn’t.........you didn’t PAY those guys to do that?” Then B starts laughing, she’s doubled over laughing. And G starts explaining to the waitress what we’ve been doing and what I had done and the waitress starts laughing. I start chuckling because damn it WAS really funny. So here we are in the middle of a crowded bar ....the waitress is holding onto the table laughing and the four of us are just splitting our sides laughing and EVERY single person within hearing distance of our laughter is turned around in their seats watching us, no doubt dying to be at our table because damn we looked like we were having fun.
Nothing like making a spectacle of yourself. I don’t know what it is about us but it never fails. An evening out with the fearsome four is just not complete until we’ve drawn the attention of the ENTIRE bar toward our table.
PS. The four guys then proceeded to buy us rounds before we finally called it a night and stumbled out to the cars of the waiting hubbins (theirs...not mine).