Pub A Dub Dub

That night I drive home with absolutely no interest in chatting with Mac or even thinking about him.  I just have to endure the damn date.  Get it over with. Say I did.

I text my steady dates, Toni and Del and ask what they are doing. I have to stop at the bohemian brew pub that Craig and I went to on our first date to buy a growler of a fine IPA for Charlotte's husband Jack for his birthday. I'd be game to stay for a pint or two if they are up for it.

They are, and in fact, they get there first. I had to stop and feed the wicked cats. And I text Craig.  I want to put a pleasant memory in his head for the evening.  I tell him I am going to get a growler of the darkest highest alcohol content beer they have for Jack. And I may as well stop and get him some girly glasses to go with it. It is an inside joke about our first pub experience when I ordered a high alcohol content beer and it came in a little responsible glass and I thought it was because I was a woman.  It was hilarious. I know he'll be smiling.

He responds that I must ask for the beer that tastes most like cough syrup. I agree and tell him that I will be certain to ask if it will sit in one's belly like a box of nails all night.

Toni and Del and I have a few beers, have a few laughs and eventually head for home. But upon a trip to the loo I text Craig that I miss his company in the coolest beer pub in the world. He comments that he likes the place. And I suggest a return visit in a few weeks.  He agrees.

And I am thinking "Mac who?"

I go home eventually and watch a little TV.  Catch up on Facebook. Go to bed. 

I wake to find a text from Mac that had been sent moments after I'd slithered in between the sheets.

"Goodnight Liza. Sleep well."

Oy.

And I have a text from Kate.

"The 5-Mile Loop in the park tomorrow?

Now that's who I need to talk to. Laugh with. Grouse to.  Ten minutes expalining to Kate will put it all in a new hilarious perspective.

"Yes, what time?"  Send.