Nice to Meet You, I'm from New Jersey

This past Veteran's Day was a wonderful time to remember those brave souls who have served their country so selflessly. The three day weekend also meant I got to return to civilization. (Tall buildings! Stores that stay open past 5pm! Bar patrons that have all of their teeth!)

The crew (Why are they all so beautiful? It blows my mind.)

Among other deliriously wonderful activities of the weekend (sushi restaurants, Forever 21 shopping) was a chance to spend a night out on the town with some of my favorites. Our first stop of the night was Dandelion Market, where I was determined to meet a law student or trust fund baby who could support my lifestyle a little better than teaching does.

My first shot? Was a man who rubbed my faux fur vest up and down (rude) and asked me if it was real. When he leaned in closer to me to hear my answer, he knocked his head in to mine. (It hurt.) Strike one. 

Next, a man who appeared to be all of 21 came up to me, squeezed me on the rear end, (usually I request that you buy me a drink beforehand, sir) and said "What's up? I'm from New Jersey."

Ummm...I'm pretty sure there's NOTHING you could say to a Southern girl that would make her run faster. Not even the butt squeeze. 

Distraught, Shannon (a flirting expert) told me to walk up to a guy watching basketball, touch his arm, and ask him something about the game. It went a little something like this:

Me: Hey there, (arm touch) do you know if Chapel Hill won their game? (Bats eyelashes seductively.

Him: No. (Looks back at television.)

Strike three. Not only am I out, but that was my one chance at real socialization for the next month or so. Better luck next time? One can only hope.