Hello and Goodbye

          After working late the other night, my colleague and I decided to grab a late dinner at a bar and grill. As we were looking over the menus, a group of women came in and sat at a table not far from us. As you might expect, they were checking me out BIG TIME. 

          Seriously. 

          Stop laughing.

          They really were. 

          Okay, you win, they weren't checking me out BIG TIME, but they were definitely scoping me out. And by "they" I mean that one of the girls glanced at me. 

          For real. 

          We actually made eye contact. And it wasn't because I was staring at her for a really, really long time, so long, in fact, that it finally drew her attention to me long enough to creep her out and tell her girlfriends that the weirdo at the next table was staring at her. It wasn't like that at all. 

          She smiled at me.

          Most guys out there would feel pretty good about that. But the problem was that I could tell by looking at her that she wasn't my type. If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that you should always, always, judge a book by it's cover. And I could tell by looking at this girl that she (1) had read Eclipse three times; (2) had played the clarinet up until the eighth grade; and (3) had once been involved in an exorcism.  
          I can overlook a lot of flaws in a girl, believe you me. For example, I once dated a girl who wore braces, which proves that it's not all about looks with me. I really hated those braces, after all. They made her look ridiculous, which is why I broke up with her. Thanks for prying.
          Anyway, back to the girl at the bar and grill. I could have overlooked the fact that she had played the clarinet and had been involved in an exorcism. But I couldn't get past the fact that she had read Eclipse more than once. That's shameful behavior, pure and simple. Obviously, then, once she decided to come over and hit on me, I'd have to turn her down.
          My buddy looked at me and asked me what's wrong. "What's wrong?" he asked.
          "What's wrong?" I echoed.
          "What's wrong?" he repeated.
          "What's wrong?" I parroted.
          "What's wrong?" he re-asked.
          "What's wrong?" I copied.
          "What's wrong?" he italicized.
          "What's wrong," I emphasized, "is that a girl over there is going to hit on me, and I'm not interested."
          I glanced over at the girl. She was looking at me. Then she stood up. "Oh crap, here she comes," I whispered.
          The girl walked towards me...and kept on going, out the front door, and she didn't come back. I was stunned. I wondered what she thought she saw in me that she didn't like. Needless to say, I learned an important lesson that night, which is, the nachos at Old Chicago are superb. Give em a try. Tell em Cody sent you.