I only walked her to her car

Imagine you are at a dance club about ready to go home. You are putting your shoes back on. Yes, it’s a real dance club, not some place where you have drunken dry humps on the dance floor to techno music. A hot blonde MILF that you’ve danced with comes up and asks you to walk her to her car.

Now, if you are me, your first thought might be about the beautiful babies you spent time with while in NYC this last weekend and think that God must really be smiling upon you. After all, waking up alive in Rockefeller Plaza at 5AM on a Sunday morning is not the norm for New York. But I digress.

So, I’m sitting there thinking that the MILF can’t seriously be hitting on me. I mean, 20 minutes ago I was asking her about her kids and how long she’s been married. Then she informs me that the guy sitting at the bar had been checking her out all night long and she was a little nervous. I look over and there is no one sitting at the bar. I take another glance.

Clearly a not so distant relative of Jeffrey Dahmer. This guy score a 1600 on the creepy freak SAT. A friggin’ 6.0 in the Winter Creeplympics. A 10.0 on the Creepter Scale. In fact, I just looked up freak ass creepo on wikipedia and his picture showed up in one of the asides.

You get the point, right? We’re talking Captain Creeparoo here. So, I realize that it is my civic duty to walk the hot blonde MILF to her car and make every effort to not hit on her. I kid. I kid! She’s married with kids! I would at least find out if she’s getting a divorce first.

All joking aside… I’m walking out of the building with her, and she turns to me and apologizes, saying that she’s sorry because many of the people in the joint thought that she was picking up on me. Score! I mean, having it look like Mrs. Robinson was picking up on me will definitely score me some points with the college kids when I go back there next week 😀

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