Spooning Read Online Free
Author: Darri Stephens
complain that she missed the gym this week, or that she indulged in just a little too much Häagen-Dazs? As if! No, she swings that butt out there with pride. Every girl should take a lesson or two from her. Macie came back out in an adorable tube top.
“Notice the placement of the wide black stripe,” she pointed to her midriff area, “Pure genius on the designer's part. Had to be a woman!” Ah, black—the essential color of New York City.
It was our first night out. No curfew, no homework, no worries, no nothing. It was our maiden voyage as single, soon-tobe professional ladies and we were on the prowl looking for love, drinks, and some Top 10 cheesy songs to ease our minds. Pink might say, “I'm coming out.” Well, we were already out and ready to go … ready to get this party started right.
P
art of me felt silly being so excited about all these “firsts.” But you have to understand, for some of us, the only thing we had to get excited about back at school was the fact that “drink or drown” at the local bars started at 4:30 P.M. sharp on Fridays. For ten bucks, you could drink either really watered-downbeer or imbibe on the themed shots of the evening (with such charming names as the Buttery Nipple or the Blow Job). Can you tell the oh-so-clever bartenders were of the male species? Overall, the whole “drink or drown” thing was pretty gross. The end result was that seven plastic beer cups later, you either felt really bloated or really tanked. Neither of which was really attractive. But we did it for four years and, by golly, we never missed a night.
We ended up at the bar around the corner from our humble abode, Top Shelf. Tuning out all the Top 10 cheesy music, shot glasses hitting the bar, and sultry whispers from boy to girl, I sat back and gazed at the endless possibilities life now had to offer. As I watched a girl daintily feed bar nuts into a cute boy's mouth, I had to consider that Mom could be right—the way to a man's heart might be through his stomach. Perhaps it was time to be proactive. I had lost too many possible boyfriends in college by not calling them back. My mother had never allowed me to make a call if the intended recipient was of the male species, but now that I was out on my own and an adult, I was going to be a hunter. So I began to assess the prospects at Top Shelf and immediately felt glum … How was I ever to find a desirable boyfriend/husband? I had grown up on Disney movies. I was waiting for my Prince Charming. Dark hair or blond … made no difference to me. But I was too cognizant of those random flaws that shouldn't matter. That one over there had a mole beneath his ear, the one by the stairs was biting his nails, the one talking to Tara had a bit of a mullet. (Hockey hair is so undesirable.) I knew that Prince Charming only existed in the movies, but what did I give up on? Where did I compromise?
As the night wore on, I thought about the road that layahead. Robert Frost said, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by …” Okay, so moving to NYC had not been so original, but I was determined to make my own path in this world from here on out. Although, as I felt myself getting sleepy, my current concern became finding my way back to my new apartment. What was my address again? Two roads diverged … and I was lost. The bar door opened to the sticky August night and I stepped out onto the sidewalk. But then the girls beckoned me back to do another shot at the end of the bar. Tara had her arm around Syd's neck—was it a friendly buddy gesture or a you-will-drink wrestling hold? There was a change in the air, like the wind shift in
Mary Pop-pins
. I looked at the dark sky and hoped for sunshine the next day. For the moment though, I was content to step back inside and bask in the amber glow (kind of like sunshine) of the numerous Amstel Light bottles lined up before us as we bonded.
Ever So Creamy Cheesecake
Easy Crust
Buy a
“Notice the placement of the wide black stripe,” she pointed to her midriff area, “Pure genius on the designer's part. Had to be a woman!” Ah, black—the essential color of New York City.
It was our first night out. No curfew, no homework, no worries, no nothing. It was our maiden voyage as single, soon-tobe professional ladies and we were on the prowl looking for love, drinks, and some Top 10 cheesy songs to ease our minds. Pink might say, “I'm coming out.” Well, we were already out and ready to go … ready to get this party started right.
P
art of me felt silly being so excited about all these “firsts.” But you have to understand, for some of us, the only thing we had to get excited about back at school was the fact that “drink or drown” at the local bars started at 4:30 P.M. sharp on Fridays. For ten bucks, you could drink either really watered-downbeer or imbibe on the themed shots of the evening (with such charming names as the Buttery Nipple or the Blow Job). Can you tell the oh-so-clever bartenders were of the male species? Overall, the whole “drink or drown” thing was pretty gross. The end result was that seven plastic beer cups later, you either felt really bloated or really tanked. Neither of which was really attractive. But we did it for four years and, by golly, we never missed a night.
We ended up at the bar around the corner from our humble abode, Top Shelf. Tuning out all the Top 10 cheesy music, shot glasses hitting the bar, and sultry whispers from boy to girl, I sat back and gazed at the endless possibilities life now had to offer. As I watched a girl daintily feed bar nuts into a cute boy's mouth, I had to consider that Mom could be right—the way to a man's heart might be through his stomach. Perhaps it was time to be proactive. I had lost too many possible boyfriends in college by not calling them back. My mother had never allowed me to make a call if the intended recipient was of the male species, but now that I was out on my own and an adult, I was going to be a hunter. So I began to assess the prospects at Top Shelf and immediately felt glum … How was I ever to find a desirable boyfriend/husband? I had grown up on Disney movies. I was waiting for my Prince Charming. Dark hair or blond … made no difference to me. But I was too cognizant of those random flaws that shouldn't matter. That one over there had a mole beneath his ear, the one by the stairs was biting his nails, the one talking to Tara had a bit of a mullet. (Hockey hair is so undesirable.) I knew that Prince Charming only existed in the movies, but what did I give up on? Where did I compromise?
As the night wore on, I thought about the road that layahead. Robert Frost said, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by …” Okay, so moving to NYC had not been so original, but I was determined to make my own path in this world from here on out. Although, as I felt myself getting sleepy, my current concern became finding my way back to my new apartment. What was my address again? Two roads diverged … and I was lost. The bar door opened to the sticky August night and I stepped out onto the sidewalk. But then the girls beckoned me back to do another shot at the end of the bar. Tara had her arm around Syd's neck—was it a friendly buddy gesture or a you-will-drink wrestling hold? There was a change in the air, like the wind shift in
Mary Pop-pins
. I looked at the dark sky and hoped for sunshine the next day. For the moment though, I was content to step back inside and bask in the amber glow (kind of like sunshine) of the numerous Amstel Light bottles lined up before us as we bonded.
Ever So Creamy Cheesecake
Easy Crust
Buy a
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