Either being single in LA is hard, or I just suck at being single. It’s all so new.
I have been stuck in this anti-dating phase, but for some reason this cute-bartender-guy has completely got me. Making conversation in a crowded bar, on a Friday night, with the bartender himself, is pretty much impossible. So, naturally, my feeble attempt at conversation included buying loads of fireball shots.
And it actually worked! I had the courage to write my number on the bottom on my receipt!
Actually JK it completely worked against me. I just didn’t find out until 2 days later, when my girlfriend let me know that I’d written my number on the bottom on the wrong receipt. Turns out that after ordering drinks from Cute Bartender all night, I’d ordered my final drink from Jerk Bartender. And therefore accidentally given Jerk Bartender him my number. Shoot son.