stories that kinda make me look bad and drabble info
(So I didn’t really set a firm deadline for getting the drabbles in. And I know that a couple of stragglers are still working on them. Let’s say that if the link to them is in my inbox by 6 am eastern tomorrow morning, they are in the contest. Cool? Cool.)
I’ve mentioned my friend Melanie here a few times. Not as often as she’d like, I’m sure.
Mel is a long-time real life female friend.
I’ve had other female friends over the years. But late night make-out sessions made things weeeeeeeird. Or they were dating my friends, and when my friends cheated on them they were bitter that I didn’t tell them.
1) I’m not a rat.
2) Seriously? The bro code. Come on.
In one case I absolutely adored the girl. We were good friends. But I denied denied denied. Even after, unbeknownst to me, my buddy came clean to her. She had to physically drag him over in front of me.
Him: It’s true. I told her.
Me: (turning to her) Screw it. Fiiiiiiiiine. He cheated on you. Happy?
I felt bad about that one. She’s a sweetie. And she even set me up with her sister. (If Melanie was telling this story, she would mention a confusion over names that would make me look bad.)
(But she isn’t. Sooo nyah!)
I think I’ve known Melanie since I was 5. And we started going to the same junior high when we were 12. So she knows a few stories about me. (And will never, ever be asked to guest post.)
Jump ahead to this past weekend. Melanie brought a female friend home from the city.
A CUTE female friend.
Melanie even brought her to my house. (I wanted to hug Mel a little for that.)
They got out of the car and were talking to my sister, my bro-in-law, my dad and The ACN in the driveway.
I was still in the house thinking, “Uhm… there’s a pretty girl. In my driveway. I’m unsure how to proceed.”
I should mention at this point that my town has a dating pool the size of a shot glass. A dirty shot glass. So seeing pretty girls is not a common occurrence. Except for seeing Melanie. She is pretty and funny. (Did I get that wording right, Mel?)
Annnnyway. I decided that a good way to proceed would be to go outside where said pretty girl was. I’m clever like that.
As I walked towards the door, I went down the list:
“No bats in the cave? Check.”
“Proper bend in bill of baseball cap and– I’m not wearing a cap! Abort! Abort!” But I was already opening the door.
Right away Melanie said, “Get me a copy of your book for Abby.” (Not her real name.)
Oddly enough I just got one a couple of days before. I don’t typically have a copy. (Is that weird?)
Since I’m spectacularly easy to get along with when pretty girls are around, “Uhm. OK!”
So I did.
[Then there was a thing with me switching sneakers which still baffles me a little.]
So Mel introduced me to Abby. Very cute. Seemed awesome. And within, oh, 30 seconds, Melanie said to me…
“So, we were telling Abby the story* about that time we were trying to figure out if that girl [performed a much appreciated act on your most sensitive of organs]…”
As the Fran Drescher-esque “Whaaaaaat?” escaped my lips, I knew that there was very little chance that my plans for being all charming-like were going to be successful.