This lovely story takes place on the night of one of my good friend's weddings in the heart I'm downtown Dallas. Dolled up at the Renaissance Hotel, I had a run-in with the officiator of this wedding after he was incredibly intoxicated. Hey, an open bar at a Mexican wedding, don't think I'm faulting him. They sure knew how to throw a party! The bride looked beautiful (and not because I'm biased) and there was hours of great dancing music of multiple languages for her and her dance-hungry guests to indulge in. This lad, because I have no other name for him at this point, went to the same high school as the bride and I, our sisters spent time at each other's houses frequently, and we hung out on a boat trip a couple years ago with the now bride and groom. If that's not enough to at least remember who a person is, then there's no point. Unfortunately, true as it may be, I had a crush on this lad in high school. He was kind of popular, and pretty darn handsome for a senior in high school. Rumor had it, he was quite the man whore, so I steered clear. Not that I really was in the same league as him that time and day anyway. My choir-nerd-self was completely content with being single, working as a Vice President of choir, and the American Sign Language Club. We were incredibly flirting on the boating trip, but I knew that was just how he was. I had no desire to pursue anything with this lad, but I at least knew who it was, by first and last name. >>>>>Fast forward to this wedding, and he suavely tried to spark up a conversation by addressing me as "Cheryl," in confidence with a wink. I thought for sure he was kidding. He was not. I let him have it in front of all his friends. "How much of a hoe are you that you can't remember someone's name that you went to school with, you dropped off your sister at her sister's house all the time and I was the one to answer the door, and the boating trip a couple years ago..." He cut me off and pointed to his military uniform. "I've had one too many hits in the head. You can expect me to remember your name." "Oh can't I? Have a good night Robert." I used to last name as well in a condescending tone. Some of his friends, other groomsmen in the wedding, spatted, "ohhhhhhh!" While I strutted my way back to my place on the dance floor with Spanish reggaeton playing. Whoever said people don't change need to be more specific. The person can sure as hell digress. I'm not the greatest with names, so when I mess up (naturally) I at least own up to it and wouldn't use my job as an excuse. ESPECIALLY when I know for a fact, he enlisted as a last resort. Cool bro. Have a good life. He's beyond last season-- he's two seasons ago, like pumpkin cookies in spring. Stephanie's taste in high school was certainly just another thing I grew out of.
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AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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