People were excited that Dave and I had finally taken our flirtation past the workplace – partially because it was getting awkward as fuck to be around us and partly because…well, they knew me.
I worked the morning shift, at then end of which I was wished tons of luck by my coworkers. I did a mani-pedi at one of the millions of nail salons that sit on Long Island, did my hair and made my way over to Houlihan’s.
I arrived early, as I am notorious for doing, and thus was not bothered at having to wait. However, my confidence began to waver at 9:15pm, when there was no sign of Dave and no hint of a phone call.
My hopes for the evening had dwindle significantly by 10pm, when the servers who had been cut early began to trickle in. I was spotted and tended to – the girls said things like, “Lauren, don’t be upset…you don’t know. Something could have happened.” and the men agreed.
By 11pm, when the rest of the servers arrived, we hated him. It’s amazing how women turn, “Lauren, seriously, you are so much better off without him.” – “He is an asshole, Lauren…forget him.”. They showered me with hugs and kind words and the men bought me many beers.
After my seventh margarita…I didn’t remember a thing.