On Saturday afternoon, Beau came bursting through my door at 4:00 and said IT'S HAPPY HOUR!
Who was I to argue?
So we walked to a nearby restaurant with a patio where he could sit in the glorious sunshine and I could sit in the glorious shade of a magnificent day.
While we ate sliders and drank beers, we noticed the couple next to us on the patio.
They were probably in their mid-40s, and they looked like they met on eHarmony (there's absolutely nothing wrong with meeting on eHarmony and I don't know why we think we can spot those, but we think we can).
They seemed normal enough (though he sported a buzzcut and a tattoo that looked like a cross between Obama and Alfred E. Neuman and she ordered a hunk of meat the size of her own head, which seemed like a difficult-to-navigate item on a date, but I digress).
But then there was weirdness.
He excused himself from the table. He left the patio. He left the restaurant. He walked across the street. And he was gone for 20 minutes.
He came back and ate and drank a little more.
And then he did it again!
And in between, he went to the men's room once or twice.
This is all in the span of about an hour and a half.
The first time, she was a good sport about it. The second time, she was PISSED (I can't say I blame her).
At first, Beau and I though he'd excused himself to snort coke in the john. But that's not a 20-minute activity that happens across the street.
Then we decided that he was reliving an old Three's Company plot line and had another date waiting across the street. Keep my date company, Mr. Roper! Chrissy's going to be so mad if I stand up her cousin, who's waiting for me across the street!
Luckily for him, I don't think he'll have to worry about juggling dates in the future.
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