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First Name Only [FNO]: Part 1

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If you can’t find the Intro to this post, you need to not be on the interwebs.  Sigh… fine. Scroll down one post or click here.

Up until now, FNO is a story that only my closest and most trusted friends have heard.  Be gentle.

That night was steamy and humid, and I remember cursing the natural wave in my (then blond) hair.  Typical.  I was going to be frizzy for my celebration.  You see, I had just made a life-changing decision – to fly South.  For good.   It was my last hurrah in the big bad Northeast with my girls.

We all met up after work on a Friday, pre-gamed with beers over takeout, and then changed into our paint-the-town outfits. When I reappeared in the living room, my girls cat-called me and asked me why I didn’t wear this outfit more often?!?!  I glanced down at my black halter top, gray skinny jeans and strappy leather 4″ stilettos… and shrugged.  It wasn’t my normal comfy jeans/t-shirt style.  It was just one of those nights where you know you could rock it.  I felt good.

Off we went to the corner bar – a tiny Irish pub complete with a bar table. One of my girls and I immediately beelined for and commandeered the table (yes, legitimately…we won it.) while the other girls got the first round.  When I was handed a pint glass full of RedBull and Grey Goose, that bitchy little inner voice screamed at me “HELLO, DO NOT DRINK THAT, ARE YOU INSANE?!?” Then I squished her from my mind and went back to kicking ass at pool.  One of those drinks later, I’m leaning down low over the table for a killer shot (still solid and steady in my stilettos) and I see in my peripheral a hand slap quarters down on the table less than a foot from my face. Hello, Pool Etiquette 101 – do. not. fuck. with. the. shooter.  I stood up quickly, eyes fiery and prepared to give this asshole a piece of my mind.

And…Whoa. In my direct line of sight was a very muscled display of pectorals under a tight black tshirt.  At 5’9′, I’m not accustomed to having to look UP to any man, but I did with him. Even in my 4″ heels!  I arrogantly lifted my chin and ….dammit… his face is gorgeous too.  But I was still spitting mad, so I just glared up at him and said with a toss of my head, “the board is over there. Put your name down.”.  He sneered down at me and said, “What?”.  I rolled my eyes and repeated, slower this time and oozing sarcasm, “The board. It’s over there. You have to sign up. To play.”.  Without a word he grabbed his quarters, turned on his heel and walked away.

But he watched me.  In all fairness, he kind of had to.  My partner and I were dominating every duo foolish enough to challenge us to a game. We kept winning, over and over. Drinks kept being brought to me….ohhhh, I forgot how GOOD RedBull/GreyGoose is…and we must have destroyed 7 or 8 other teams by that point. When suddenly, I see a guy I know dropping the balls to rack our next game.  We say hello and then I’m stunned when MuscleTee appears at his side, chalking up a cue and grinning obnoxiously at me. Oh SHIT. That’s his partner? GAME ON.

To be continued…

One response »

  1. Pingback: First Name Only [FNO] – Part Three « Fifty Shades of Peach

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