When my check came and I saw the 69-cent discount, I had to break character and ask the waitress what her deal was. To my complete surprise, she was fooled. She had no idea. I, too, was blindsided. She actually thought I was a grumpy old man who carried a frightening bloodlust for IHOP. (Well, the second half of that is still true.)
Either way, it worked, she let the discount stand, and I spent the rest of the night roaming the streets, jabbing youngsters, making crude remarks, and swallowing more goat hair than I ever have in my life.
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Jeremy Glass is a sex and dating writer for Thrillist and spends a lot of time lurking in bushes. Huge shoutout to Small Girls PR and PRIV for making this happen.