Sunday, March 17, 2013

Just a Tiny Bit of Blarney

"Excuse me," said the handsome bar patron who was quickly invading my personal space. "I'm Scott."

My new friend Scott leaned over the sternum-high wall that divided Shenanigans' bar from the dining room. I broke off my (very animated, somewhat drunken) conversation with my best friend, U2ey*.

"Hi." I raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with U2ey.

"And I'm Linda," said the very put-together, blond woman. Her bosom was ample enough to rest on the dividing wall, but not in a smothery fashion. And I'm not a pervert. It's just something you notice when said bosom is exactly at your eye-level.

"We were just wondering," started Scott.

"If you could guess our age," finished Linda.

"Oh, no," I said, shaking my head. "You can't ask us to guess another woman's age! That's dangerous."

"No, it's fine, really," Linda interrupted. "We're really curious."

Now, I was about three pints in at this point. Enough to see the entertainment in this request, but not so deep to get all shouty with my answer without careful consideration.

U2ey said, "I don't know..."

"We'll confer!" I yelled and slipped around the table to U2ey's side of the booth.  I sized them up.  My new pal Linda was the key. Her build and her only-slightly-lined face read mid-to-late thirties, but her very tailored look (a white sweater to a pub? ON ST. PATRICK'S DAY? stain-risk much?) and her perfectly colored and manicured hair?  That said at least forty to me. Scott had to be within spitting distance of that. But, I also want people to have a good time on a Saturday night, SO! I thought the best thing to do would be to aim low.

"You," I squinted while I considered Linda (Squinting = Deep Thought, right? (Or stigmatism. Either/or.)). "You are 37, and you," I squinted at Scott, "are 40?"

"I LOVE YOU!" Linda shouted. Which is always nice to hear.

Scott playfully pounded the divider, looking pretend grumpy.

"Well?" I said. "You have to tell us how close we were!"

"I'm 42," Linda said through a smile as wide as a harp. "And he's 41!"

Can I tell you how grateful I am that I aimed low?  If I'd gone with my gut, I only would have shaved off a year.  But many a lady, unless she is trying to sneak into a move or buy an illegal beer, are thrilled when someone guesses she is five years younger than she is.

"Why are your glasses empty?" Scott asked.

"Our waitress hasn't circled around so we haven't been able to order another round," U2ey explained. 

"Go buy them a round!" Linda giggled. I always liked that Linda.

"Done! What are you drinking?" Scott asked. I always liked that Scott.

"Guinness!" we shout in unison. My goodness, my Guinness.  I sneer at the tray of Budweiser Light another waitress is carrying across the room.

While Scott was off procuring the Guinness, I said to Linda, "Your turn! How old do you think we look."

She coolly, squintily returned the appraisal.  But, she dodged the question.

"You're babies," Linda said with a slight shake of her head. Like she has Seen Some Things, and our blooming youth couldn't comprehend what lay before us.

"Yeah, we're thirty-seven," I said.  Not that I was arguing about being a baby.  I mean, in the grand scheme of things?  Thirty-seven is the new twenty-five. Minus the ability to recover from a hangover within a day.

"No you're not." Linda shook her head. Then she turned to me. "Really? You're thirty-seven?"

"Yup!" I said. I'm actually kind of proud of my age, even if I hate the fact that I use acne cream and wrinkle cream.  Is there a product on the market that combines both?  Because if there is, I'm interested. Hear that, Open Market? Deliver unto me my request!

It's then that Scott delivered our booze to us.

"Thank you!"

U2ey and I wrapped our hands around our glasses and took a deep pull of the velvety, cool beer.

"No problem," the couple answered, then turned their attention to each other. And, based on the way they were making out, it seems like perhaps forty-two is the new sixteen.

U2ey = my best friend. I'll let you guess which band she would sacrifice me for.

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