self service
There's not nearly as much to say about my brother's destination wedding as I had led up to in teaser posts. Or at least, I've passed the expiration of thorough exposition. Actually I intended to write this post about an ingrown nose hair story from two winters ago, but switched tracks.
I could tell you about the 'Danger Aligators' signs around the islands, but there's not much more to say about them. The real topic of this post is girls. It may seem self-serving and boastful to describe girls liking me, but I'm going to do it anyway. I'm the monarch of this blog's domain. There were a lot of them there. And the ones that weren't single were trying to hook me up with the one's that were, or would soon be. When one of the girl's impending divorce came up in conversation one of the bride's aunts whispered loudly that I should give this girl a call in a couple months.
The mother of the bride laments constantly that I didn't request the phone number of a Texas dwelling cousin who claimed I had accompanied her on the 'best dance of [her] life.' I owned that reception dance floor. I might have considered her if she were fewer than eight years my junior.
Many attempts were made to pair me with a bridesmaid who, it turns out, is the younger sister of a girl I had nearly (and should have) taken to a high school homecoming dance. I would have been more interested if she were her sister.
The only number I actually ended up taking home was given unsolicited and belonged to an aunt. On a previous telling I mistakenly assumed it was obvious that it was an aunt of the bride, and not mine, much to the horror of my roommate. I figured the number was completely platonic until she added, 'I'm usually not this forward, but it's not very often that I make a connection like this with someone.' apparently we made more of a connection than I realized.
One teenaged cousin (of the bride) tempted us to think impure thoughts as she sunbathed in a bikini near a pool (yes it was November). I averted my eyes as my brother hummed the theme to Kubrik's Lolita.
With all that said I'm still single. Whether that's a triumph or a failure, I don't know. But, I'll smile glibly knowing that the mother of the bride thinks I 'could have had any girl on that dance floor.'
I could tell you about the 'Danger Aligators' signs around the islands, but there's not much more to say about them. The real topic of this post is girls. It may seem self-serving and boastful to describe girls liking me, but I'm going to do it anyway. I'm the monarch of this blog's domain. There were a lot of them there. And the ones that weren't single were trying to hook me up with the one's that were, or would soon be. When one of the girl's impending divorce came up in conversation one of the bride's aunts whispered loudly that I should give this girl a call in a couple months.
The mother of the bride laments constantly that I didn't request the phone number of a Texas dwelling cousin who claimed I had accompanied her on the 'best dance of [her] life.' I owned that reception dance floor. I might have considered her if she were fewer than eight years my junior.
Many attempts were made to pair me with a bridesmaid who, it turns out, is the younger sister of a girl I had nearly (and should have) taken to a high school homecoming dance. I would have been more interested if she were her sister.
The only number I actually ended up taking home was given unsolicited and belonged to an aunt. On a previous telling I mistakenly assumed it was obvious that it was an aunt of the bride, and not mine, much to the horror of my roommate. I figured the number was completely platonic until she added, 'I'm usually not this forward, but it's not very often that I make a connection like this with someone.' apparently we made more of a connection than I realized.
One teenaged cousin (of the bride) tempted us to think impure thoughts as she sunbathed in a bikini near a pool (yes it was November). I averted my eyes as my brother hummed the theme to Kubrik's Lolita.
With all that said I'm still single. Whether that's a triumph or a failure, I don't know. But, I'll smile glibly knowing that the mother of the bride thinks I 'could have had any girl on that dance floor.'
posted by excellent excrement at 12:32 PM
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