Rock Star, continued

The thing about first impressions is that sometimes they get away from you.

Rock Star and I met for the first time at a little neighborhood bar for drinks. I arrived early, like I always do when I'm on a first date, so I could grab a drink, fluff the hair and throw up if I had to. I get nervous, you see.

As I was coming out of the bathroom, an obviously drunk older man stepped into my path and slurred, "How old are you?"

I thought to myself, don't encourage him but I can never resist the opportunity to respond to that question with, "How old do you think I am?" He thought I was 22. I laughed and sat down at my table. He followed and stood next to me, talking about summer camp. A lot.

I started to panic a bit, as Rock Star was sure to arrive any moment and Drunk Guy didn't seem like he was leaving any time soon. I scanned the crowd and saw Rock Star reading the drink menu on the wall. I made eye contact and waved. He looked from me to Drunk Guy and then back to me, a slightly confused look on his face. He came over and sat down. I was relieved; sure that Drunk Guy would leave me to my date.

Nope. There were more summer camp memories that needed to be shared. I gave Rock Star a silent apology. He laughed.

"We met at summer camp," Rock Star said. "She was a camper and I was a counselor. Very scandalous."

I giggled. Drunk Guy asked Rock Star where we went to camp. Rock Star looked to me for help.

"The Catskills," I said. I then rattled off the name of a town and then Drunk Guy announced he was leaving, but asked that if I see him around the neighborhood to please say hello. He shook my hand, held it longer than necessary, and then finally made his way out of the bar.

On the one hand, you definitely don't want your date to arrive while a drunk guy is hitting on you. On the other hand, it certainly gave us a lot of material for conversation and laughter. Second date Friday – dinner.