We weren’t going to go out.
We were exhausted and smelly. Tired from the drive from Vermont and
highly emotional due to the realization that it was the last night of this
amazing double-dating journey.
We decided to end our trip in style and treated ourselves to a fancy B&B in Cambridge, MA, so that we
wouldn’t bother any Boston-based friends/family with our last night of
shenanigans. What do shenanigans look
like, you might ask? Well, they start by
lying on an antique bed, cozy in pajamas, dicking around on Facebook until 10
PM.
But let's be real. We only had one option for the rest of the evening.
WE HAD TO GO OUT.
I mean…hello?! This was our last night…and we hadn’t had a
Massachusetts date yet!
So we rallied…for the last time…threw on make-up and relatively
cute clothing, including wedges (this detail will come into play later, so bear
with us), and headed to the closest bar.
The bar, a low-key dive that Hillary used to frequent when
she lived in Boston, was relatively crowded for a Monday night. We didn’t spy
any potential date options as we pushed our way through the somewhat older crowd, so we settled
at a small table in the back near the live Blues band, ordered some beer, and
started to play dice.
Oh yes, you read correctly. We started to play DICE. Alone.
We began with a game that our college buddies had invented
in Vermont a couple days earlier called “Let it Ride.” All you need to know
about this ridiculous betting game is that it makes no sense and just leads to
poor decision-making (i.e. Hillary: “Danielle, if you lose this toss, you have to text
your favorite date from this trip and tell him you’re thinking about him” etc.)
It was sort of like Never WOULD I Ever meets MASH meets Truth Or Dare meets
WHAT THE HELL ARE WE DOING meets Yahtzee for drunk 30-year-olds…
Before things got awful re: the random texting/FB messaging
of former dates, we were saved (?) by a sighting of a beautiful-looking man at
the bar, who resembled Mall Togo (one of the Chicago dates, for the less-careful readers.)
Due to this resemblance, Hillary blurted out “Mall Togo?” and the young man
turned around, slightly confused. He clearly wasn’t fazed though, because
within a minute, he and his work buddy had joined us at our table to learn the
complicated dice game. (Maybe this was because Danielle made eye contact and invited them over with her lashes.)
Now, one thing we’ve mentioned before is that Danielle and
Hillary RARELY if EVER are attracted to the same type of men, which is the
reason this whole double-dating thing has worked out so beautifully. THIS SAID,
when the dates consist of one incredibly beautiful, socially-competent dude,
and one socially-awkward guy who keeps making finger-banging jokes (for real)
and is hard to look at physically…well, then things get complicated.
Normally, Hillary, the dumb one, will talk to the socially
awkward guy, because she has intense Jewish guilt. At this point, Danielle will
assume (seriously, Danielle?) that Hillary is into this person and move in for
the hot, competent date (as she should, because Danielle is smart.)
Now, Danielle and Hillary had discussed this issue a few
states back, and decided that Hillary needed to feel more confident approaching
hotter men, so they devised a code-word that could be used during dates to
signify, “Hey, I am only staying on this date if we SWITCH men.” Hillary had
yet to use this trump card, but tonight was the night, and she casually worked
the code word into the conversation. Danielle looked at her, sighed, and like
an amazing best friend, resigned herself to talking to the awkward co-worker,
who we will obviously name Finger Bang.
Conversation between all four of us actually flowed pretty
well as we continued to play dice, and before we knew it, the boys had gotten
us another round, and we were closing up the bar. We fessed up about our dating
adventure, and they were pretty intrigued. After being kicked out by the bartender,
we stood outside the bar for a bit as the men smoked. Hillary thought this was
the time to call it a night, but Danielle (again, way better at the dating
thing) just waited around silently (“You have to linger”) until Finger Bang
asked if we’d like to come back to his apartment to drink more beer and play
more dice.
Hillary, slightly panicked, glared at Danielle with the eye
signal that we had established to mean, “NO FUCKING WAY WE ARE GOING HOME WITH
THESE GUYS.” Danielle looked right back with the eye signal of, “YES, WE ARE. THIS IS OUR LAST NIGHT OF THE
TRIP. BESIDES, I GAVE YOU THE HOT ONE. DON’T FUCK THIS UP.”
Resigned to Danielle’s silent-eye-intimidation, Hillary
agreed, and the four of us walked the short distance to Finger Bang’s Apartment.
Hillary walked with Mall Togo 2.0, and learned that he is half Jewish (um,
hello? For real?), his sister lives in Durham with his nieces (what?????), and
that he was in the Peace Corps in Nicaragua and speaks fluent Spanish (oy
gevalt…this is not good. Hillary was already looking dreamily into his eyes,
yet was still unsure of his real name.)
Danielle walked with Finger Bang, and learned…about local politics.
When we arrived at the apartment, we learned that they had
invited a third guy over (Again? Seriously? And people ask why it's logistically hard to get any action on this trip?), a bouncer who they promised would bring more
beer, and also happened to be running for City Council. Red-faced McGee arrived
20 minutes later with PBR tall boys in a paper bag and LOTS of questions about who
the hell Danielle and Hillary were. Both he and Finger Bang were VERY Boston,
and proceeded to tell us why it was the best city in the nation—and totally not
as racist as it comes off.
After Hillary gave the boys a quick Rorschach test (yup, not
a joke), there was thankfully still time for more conversation including, but
not limited to: Mall Togo 2.0 announcing and then apologizing every time he
farted, a beer spilling on Finger Bang’s childhood fruends' obituary, and Danielle
breaking her beloved Target wedges and Mall Togo 2.0 fixing them with duct tape.
Finally, Hillary looked at her phone and realized it was 3:30 in the morning.
“WE HAVE TO GO,” Hillary announced as she stood, and after
some awkward hugging goodbye, Mall Togo 2.0 insisted on walking us back to our
hotel, because “You ladies have gone out with a lot of Southern gentlemen…We
need to represent the North!”
So we left Red-Faced McGee to bike home and flyer about his
upcoming election, and the four of us walked back to our hotel. On the way,
Hillary walked with Mall Togo 2.0 again and learned deeper things about his
family and his past dating life. Mall Togo 2.0 asked Hillary for her number in
order to take her out on an official date the following evening. Score! Danielle’s
“date” ended the night by making another finger-banging joke and insisting on
taking selfies with us on his iPhone... But he did pick her up off the sidewalk when her duct-taped wedge drifted sideways and she fell so so awkwardly skinning her knee very very seriously.
Danielle and Hillary finally made it back to our swanky
hotel room, laughed about the ridiculousness of our last night, fell asleep
around 4 AM, and promptly woke up at 7:30 for no good reason, because that’s
how we roll.
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