Last weekend, my PIC and I decided to beat the heat, put on cute dresses and go out on the town for drinks.  We spent enough time on our hair and makeup to ensure that we didn’t melt on our walk to the local bar scene and felt like we ruled the night.  We both had plans for Sunday morning, so we promised to be good and stop after one or two drinks.  Famous last words…

After 2 drinks at the first bar, we went to the second bar, where a very drunk (and very cute) boy was trying to make his girlfriend jealous, and bought us a round of shots.  At this point we were ready for dancing and hit the dance floor, martinis in hand.  What neither one of us realized is that we were wearing awful shoes for dancing, and so we decided to meet up with some friends at a different bar.  It was at bar #3 that I met the “bar owner”, I will refer to him as BO from now on, but not because of his smell.

BO invited PIC and I to a bar down the street which he claimed to own.  PIC and I went, and drank on the house for the rest of the night.  There was an after hours party, which we attended and were both given the tour of the “owners” office.  BO and I exchanged numbers and after some smooching, I went home.  PIC and I had a really fun night and we were both excited to have an “in” at one of the nicest bars in town.

A few days later, I found out that BO isn’t the owner after all, just a guy who works at the bar and took advantage of an understaffed night.  At least that one a night where I was only going to have a drink or two, I got much more than that and only paid for a drink or two.