Anchorman Redeems Himself

Prepare thyselves for an Anchorman rerun. But this one is a bit more action packed and waaay better.

I got off early at work on Friday and was almost ready when my phone rang. It was Anchorman. I was supposed to call him before I left so he would have a good idea of when I would be arriving in his neck of the woods. (He lives two hours away.)

He made points early when he said: "I was going for a run and didn't want you to call while I was out. Just get here when you get here and I'll see you then." Well aren't you nice. He said he had already picked out the theatre where we'd go, too. Props, kiddo.

Arrived at 8 o'clock, and guess what time the movie started. You guessed it. Eight o'clock. We were going to be late. We raced to the theatre and got there just in time. We missed the first 20 minutes but the first 10 were previews anyway. Whew.

After it was over, we walked out into the parking lot.

And he - gasp - didn't walk on the outside next to the curb. I had to make fun of him kids. Had to.

"You know the rule don't you?" I said.
"What rule?"
"The rule that the man is supposed to walk on the outside, next to the curb."
"Not if I want to push you into oncoming traffic," he said with a grin, and he proceeds to playfully push me off of the curb. Where did this guy come from?, I was asking myself. He certainly wasn't the same jerky guy I'd gone out with last time.

We got to the car and put his hand on my door, getting ready to open it for me. "Well at least you got one thing right," I joked, pointing at the car door. Then he just stood there with his hand on the door, grinning at me. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but I wasn't sure I wanted to. "Open my door!" I said, and I pushed him out of the way and did it myself. "Aren't you demanding!" he said.

We finally found the bar district, hopped out and were on our way. First we hit a great little place called The Brook for nachos and beer. (Oh. And after my ice cream comment from date #1, I think I spoke too soon. He was the one who wanted the nachos.) We made fun of each other - him of me for using a fork with my nachos, me of him for not finishing his beer fast enough - and the conversation turned to funny stories about our drunken days in college. In the light of the stories, he suggested we grab another round, then he insisted we take a shot - of Jagermeister. I love Jager, but I never dreamed he'd be up for it. Again, I thought: Who is this guy and what have you done with the square, boring asshole I met two weeks ago? Bottom's up it went, cleaned up the nachos, and we were off to another bar.

The next bar was a hole in the wall, with a horrible guitar player in the background, but cheap beer so we stayed. But just for one. Now, I don't know if it was the alcohol or if he was more comfortable with me, but this guy was turning out to be a rather fun date, people. We actually were involved in - brace yourselves - some playful hitting and flirting. I know. Shocker.

And you know the comment he made about being sure I wore something slutty? So I did? I caught him looking down my shirt.

We waltzed over to our final stop, Vintage 1740 Wine Bar. (Very cute. I highly recommend.) We split a glass of Eroica Riesling (which was delish) and by this time, I was incredibly tipsy. I joked with him and said, "You're just trying to get my drunk so you can take advanage of me." "Is that a bad thing?" he asked. I just grinned.

Thirty mintues later we were back at his apartment making out. And he was gooooood, people. Like the I-can-tell-this-guy's-been-with-a-lot-of-women kind of good. But I didn't care.

And he liked to cuddle. Yessssssss.

Oh. And just in case you were wondering, we didn't do anything except kiss and climb into bed to cuddle. Girl next door, remember?

He doesn't give me the butterflies, so I don't particularly care if I've screwed this up by spending the night. But will I go out with him again?

Of course. The guy can kiss, can't he?