Last night, I went on a date with a boy. We finished what turned out to be quite a wonderful evening at my favorite "downstairs from my condo" watering hole. As we bellied up to the bar, owner/bartender Marcus asked so matter-of-factly if we were "on a date", to which we concurred "yes".
What happened next made my week.
The perplexity that overcame Marcus' expression spoke louder than words. He muttered "Hmm, alright then...I just had to check. 'Cause, you know..."
I then responded with "Yeah, yeah...I know what you're thinking! He's not a girl. I realize that!"
Marcus: "Hahaha! My thoughts exactly. Let's be honest, you tend to bring some fly looking broads through here...all I want to know is: how can we make a Marcus sandwich?!"
"Fly Looking Broads" - now THAT is a definite keeper. Mind you we're at the top of Queen Anne; to put this questionably exchanged verbiage into perspective.
In the end, I could only take his astute remark as a compliment. I have GREAT taste in women...I know. Right then and there, I stumbled upon my newly-realized reputation at Sully's: the likes of a "female lothario", if you will. To be honest? I wouldn't have it any other way...
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