It's Wednesday Night.

So, June and I were bored one day and decided to google the best singles places in Atlanta on Wednesday nights (why we were googling such a thing on a Wednesday is a whole other issue…we will address it one day I’m sure..).

We opted for Smith’s Olde Bar, a laid back and low-lit pub scene.  And upon arrival we encountered a very nice man who seemed harmless, and was very talkative with us.  He bought the 2 of us a drink or two, and was just such a refreshing person to talk to because we didn’t feel he had ulterior motives.  We decided we needed to call it a night before we drank too much to be able to drive, and as we were walking out of Smith’s, we were approached by a guy that I recognized from another bar.  What a small world.  Anywho, I was introduced to one of his friends, who was hott. Hott. Hott.  I was instantly attracted.  

We all hit it off, minus their 3^rd friend who was sadly the 5^th wheel. We ended up closing the bar down and were invited back to one of their apartments for a 3 a.m. rooftop hot tub adventure.  I had to be at work the next morning, unfortunately.  But, I mean, who passes up that adventure? Not us, FACT.  The night lasted well into the morning hours, but was surely a once in a lifetime experience.

Seizing the Carp,

Salli

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But alas. Calling it an early night is never is just that easy. Near the pool tables at Smith's, a guy recognized us, and stopped us. After a few blurry seconds, we realized that he was also sitting at the bar at Hudson Grille earlier that evening. (Hudson Grille: Brookhaven. Smith’s: Midtown. This was a huge coincidence that could not be passed up). They drank and we processed the booze already given to us until close. They invited us back to Ryan’s apartment. Both Salli and I had work in the morning, and it was Wednesday (Guys! It’s Wednesday…!). With minimal encouragement, we decided to go. It was one of those good bad decisions. Long story short: intentionally closed roof top hot tub, no bathing suits, case of beer, two girls, two guys…

Although some poorly endowed men still have the amazing ability to have and give amazing sex of all kinds…some just can’t. I don’t think I’ve ever been so disinterested during intercourse. (Is that awful to say? I’m sorry!)

Apologetic, mildly regretful,

June

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Beware of overly eager middle aged men

Salli and I came to the realization that the boys we were meeting seemed so young, which might not necessarily be a bad thing. We’ve both been living on our own for about five years now, have college educations and are seeking higher goals. Living with your mom, taking eight years to complete college without any career goals or possibilities, though once intriguing, was starting to become stale. We set out to meet nice young men that could maybe pay for our drinks and take us back to their beautifully decorated apartments. (Let me make a note, I personally go for the indie, outdoor guy that has his life in order, that still likes going Keroacing every so often, but this blog is about meeting different kinds of guys in different parts of town. What fun is it if we meet variations on a theme on Highland?) Hudson Grille was our first stop; it was only meant to be one drink. We sat at the bar, and watched the first game of the World Series. Our bar neighbors (resembling my passed grandfather), were very pleasant and chatty and helped us out with some trivia questions, even though we were only playing verbally and for fun. 

After some time, a gentleman approached us, followed by his timid friend that hovered behind me. The bold man had beer spilt down his front. We chatted, and then they claimed they were going to go to Mellow Mushroom next door to get some food, and invited us to join. We had fresh drinks, which was a perfect excuse to say that we may join them later. Well, after some time, we, too, decided that a pizza slice sounded pretty dang good. As we walked over, we caught the two gentlemen walking back into Hudson Grille. This was perfect! They had come back to meet us, but it seemed perfectly natural that just as we were about to head over to ‘join’ them, they were coming back! What fools would follow us back to Mellow? Well, five minutes later, they were at our backs at the bar. I was blessed to end up chatting with the slightly-less-attractive-but-a-significantly-better-personality bald timid one (alas, his alias is Baldie). Poor Salli was conversing with the pretty, but pretty drunk, one. Salli and I faked an early evening, and gave them our numbers. I, like the idiot I am, gave Baldie my real number (he was nice!), but Salli for once gave a fake number (guys, you really should pick up on the fact that 404.867.5309 is probably not a real number). 

June Bug

Have you met us? (huh?? huh?)