"What cha doing tonight?" It's my friend, Heather (name changed to protect the less-than-innocent).
"Nothing. Psych homework."
"Do you want to go dancing?"
"Sure!" Anything that is not homework...
"Cool. John stopped by my dorm room and asked me to go, but I can't because I fell off my loft and sprained my ankle..."
"Oh...So you aren't going? Ummm... is anyone else going?"
She covers up the phone. "Hey John... is anyone else going?"
"Yeah. My roommates, and whoever they invited. It should be a good size group." I hear through the muffled phone.
About 20 minutes later, John arrives at my co-op (student housing) to pick me up. Alone. No roommates, no extras. Very suspicious.
"Is everyone else meeting us at the Nectarine?" The Nectarine is the only dance hall in town.
John is a little bit nervous. "No, they all backed out. Do you still want to go?"
|The Nectarine, now the Necto. The only dance hall in town.|
His roommates claim that once they heard he was picking me up, they decided the evening was no longer a "group outing." Everyone backed out, and sent John as a lone man.
My friend "Heather" gets credit for the hook-up. And so does her loft -- for busting up her ankle.
My husband claims to this day that he was not asking Heather out on a date -- he was just gathering people to go dancing. Of course, he had no other girls on his "invite" list. I still tease him that I was the "substitute" after his date was injured.
Happy Valentine's Day Hubby!