Last night our good friend Brian was in town for one night only, so we made plans to meet up with him after Michael got home from work. You remember Brian, he’s the one with the girlfriend I freaked out about. She didn’t come for the visit. I’m OK with that.

After a super busy work day and an hour of tennis, by the time Michael got home at 10 I was curled up on the couch in my pajamas, remote in hand. If it was anyone but Brian, I would have said forget it and gone to bed. But I didn’t. I dragged myself off the couch, changed into something going out appropriate and we headed off the to bar.

As we circled the parking lot searching for a space, Michael commented on how crowded the bar was for a Tuesday night. That’s when it hit me: Wing Night. The best night of the whole week when I was in college. Five girls with four bucks each could get a massive plate of wings and pitchers of Miller Light.

Guess what? I’m not in college any more. As we walked into the packed bar, aside from Brian and our usual group who gathered to see him, I recognized no one. I also noticed a significant difference between the girls in the bar and me. My cute, black, three quarter length Express shirt left much to the imagination. Their skin tight, super low cut, tops…did not.

Now I’m not judging here. I own shirts like that. I have, and still do on occasion, wear shirts like that. But still. Apparent age gap. Yeah.

It didn’t help that the whole night we talked about marriage, children and work. Who are we??

By the time we got home it was nearly 1 a.m. and by the time we got to sleep it was almost 2. Needless to say, the 6:45 a.m. alarm was met with multiple slams of the snooze button.

I? Am apparently old. Just thought you should know. 

P.S. If you need a laugh, check out my guest post at Hank & Willie.

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