Last night was lovely. Heathrow lives in my old neighborhood. It's an adorable neighborhood, and I miss it a bit, so I suggested we hit up a classic pub I used to frequent. Same bartenders. Same crowd. Felt like old times.
Heathrow is a laid back English chap. He was sucking on a Jameson and a beer, when I wandered in. He has a smashing English accent, and the conversation was as smooth as silk. Heathrow's facial structure is likened to an ex boyfriend of mine, so every time I caught his profile, it made me giggle a bit.
Since Heathrow is a regular at this pub, many friends came by to say hello. They were all foreign, so a plethora of interesting accents were thrown my way. I absolutely loved it. It was Disneyland for Europhiles.
I somehow got my girlfriends to agree to meet me at said establishment, so they were able to meet Heathrow. He held his own with 3 female comics, and they approved of him. He also paid for my drinks, which is half the battle, really.
I will probably see Heathrow again, especially since he told me I was sexy. The ladies like a good sexy compliment, gentlemen. Keep that one in your back pocket and don't overuse it, or we'll think you to be insincere.
In other news, my favorite ex is coming to visit me next month, so that's exciting. A whole weekend together. How many dates should that count for?