The Proposal

The girls and I went out not long ago to our favorite summer spot. Janelle brought along some customers of her parents, who happened to be in town from Florida painting bridges. They're Greek-American and apparently bridge painting is a very Greek-American thing to do.

Anyway.

We gathered and the boys immediately bought rounds of drinks. The two outgoing ones were a bit crazy and not particularly attractive. The quiet one, however, was CUTE. I especially liked his purple v-neck t-shirt and gold chain. He called himself Snow but ironically had a nice Floridian glow. Depsite my designation as driver, it was early enough where I felt it was perfectly acceptable to throw back the shots of Patron these bridgepainters were handing me.


We made the rounds, circling this enormous indoor/outdoor bar. Although it was packed, reserved young Snow (apparently he's still in college) seemed particularly intriguing. So I decided to focus my attention on him. And he seemed more than okay with hanging out with me. Snow told me that I was the prettiest girl in the bar, complimenting me constantly. I didn't hate it. Of course, I questioned it and though I took the compliments, had trouble believing most anything he was saying.

I mean really, prettiest girl in the bar? HA.

Anyway, we talked about work and family and what not. He had a slight Southern twang and kept calling me darlin'. Even though I knew this would be short lived, I figured I'd take the ego boost when and where I could get it. As time went on, we had a couple more drinks and he started talking a lot more. He told me about his mom and how he was adopted, his desire to have and support his own family someday, and how girls are usually not interested in him. I was shocked by this but in some way felt like I was talking to a male verison of myself. I reassured him that this was not the case and I found him quite attractive. This was obviously true. He continued complimenting me. And calling me darlin' in that cute little twang. Eventually he asked me how old I was... I answered truthfully and he refused. Hm. Ok. His license was still vertical, meaning he was definitely younger than 22.

Oh well.

So then he started asking me to go back to his hotel room. And told me we'd just "get to know each other". Okay, I've heard that one before. I said no and no again, until eventually the girls sought me out for my car keys. They told me if I wanted, to go back with him. I wasn't sure nor was I drunk enough to be easily swayed. He asked again and I refused. I told him he could take my number and take me to dinner. He did, except he said he'd left his cell phone in Florida (WHAT!). I wrote it on the back of a bar receipt (classy) and we kissed goodbye.

Thinking the kiss might make me reconsider, I went for it.

Not a good idea.

Snow then said "I love you. I'ma marry you one day. Two years!"

I was flabbergasted. But obviously flattered.

We smooched again, and finally said our goodbyes. I walked back to the car, intrigued, excited, and slightly freaked out. Was he really hammered? Would he really call?

The next day, he did. From his hotel phone. He left a voicemail, but no number to call back. And his last name had about 15 letters, so calling the hotel for his room was out of the question.

Guess we won't be getting married in two years. PHEW!