Once upon a time, I dated around.  Occasionally, I'd date girls who worked in offices that my office had close ties to.  Anyway, I'd met this girl out once and made a mental note to ask her out sometime.  So I did.  The day came.  She called me late in the day to say that she was really tired and not sure she was up for going out.  I sighed internally because I was used to being rejected at the last minute by girls here in LA and I wasn't at all surprised.  Then she did surprise me - she asked if I'd mind heading over there for a drink as long as I didn't mind making it an early night because she was so tired.

I didn't mind at all.  I bought some wine.  Two bottles.  Don't remember what.  Took them over, figuring that worst case, we'd crack one open and I'd make sure to leave the other as insurance against a second date.  Cheaper by a long shot than going out to a bar anyway.  So yay.  She lived way south on Fairfax, I think - something like that.  Anyway, we sit out on her tiny porch and opened a bottle.  The evening turned out to be really fun - her roommates came home, sat with us awhile, the sun went down, people drifted in and out.  We had, at some point, opened the second bottle.  I noticed late in the evening that she was holding her alcohol relatively well and that I'd definitely have to turn down anything that came from a hypothetical third bottle if I wanted to make it home without a DUI.

I needn't have worried. Once she stood up to go to the bathroom, the pretense of sobriety was broken.  A little later, she invited me to stay.  I did.

The next morning, I woke up with a headache (no water after a lot of wine=bad news!) and precious little time to get to work.  I washed up and kissed her goodbye (guess who was going into work late today?  Lucky), then headed out the door.  In the car, I fretted a little about wearing the same outfit to work, mostly for the impression it might leave rather than for the teasing I'd endure.  Then there was a Rite Aid.  In a flash, I remembered that they sold socks and tee-shirts, so I hopped in.  That day, I had clean socks (key!) and wore a white t-shirt to work for the first time.  No one noticed either, as far as I can tell.

Another, totally unrelated time, I bought clothes at a drug store (this time a Duane Reade in NYC) because my airline lost my luggage.  Not nearly as fun.

Sometime, remind me to write about the time this same girl took me over to Shutters to hang with her rich friends.  That was  the last time we went out.