As the bus fired up its engines and began heading back in the direction of the hotel where this whole crazy night started, I decided to chat with Bridget from earlier.
“How about you, Bridget,” I began. “Are you dating anyone?”
“I just got engaged,” she told me.
“Who is he?” I said, crushing my plastic drink cup in my hand for emphasis. “I’ll stab him.”
“What?” she asked.
“I said who’s the lucky fella?” I continued. I honestly don’t know what she said after that because I was too heartbroken to listen. But after a couple minutes, I pulled myself together and Bridget started to tell me more about herself and how she is German and even once had her grandmother stay overnight with her in the Playboy mansion.
“That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” I told her.
“I know, right?” she said.
As the bus dropped us off in front of the hotel and Bridget and I said our hard goodbyes, I suddenly realized something: Sure, dating in these times we live in can be tough. You can engage in traditional sexual positions and maybe even some other stuff pretty much whenever you want. But if you want more than that, you really have to want it and you really have to work for it. And sometimes, even when you find it, like I’m pretty sure I did with Bridget the more I sit here thinking about it right now, sometimes it really is all about timing. And while it didn’t work out for me that night, I know it worked out for whatever the hell that guy’s name is who’s marrying Bridget. And I just want him to know that I think he’s the luckiest guy in the world and he better never ever forget it or I will crush him like a grape without thinking twice about it.
Also, if I decide to check out some more pictures of his wife on the Internet in the interest of further journalistic research as soon as I finish typing this, I’m just gonna need him to be cool with that.