Monday, Five Thirty

The man said to his friend, “I’ll tell you, man, this no shame, no hesitation thing really works.”

“When did this happen?”

“Friday,” he said, starting to smile, “And Saturday.”

“Well, I guess Jon and Sam taught you a thing or two after all.”

“Yeah,” he said, “That and to never stay around longer than a night.”

“I’m not sure they’d agree with that entirely.”

“You don’t think?”

“Haven’t you talked to Jon?”

“No,” he said to his friend, “Not for a while.”

His friend smiled and then he said, changing the subject, “I think the bigger issue is what a game courtship has become.”

“I’d agree with that, for sure,” he said to his friend, “The women can make it difficult.”

“We can’t always blame the women, can we?”

“They’re awfully tiring sometimes,” he admitted to his friend.

“What about when you don’t call them back? Or when you get drunk and tell them what they want to hear?”

He told his friend, “I don’t tell them what they want to hear.”

Thinking about how he had always been stereotyped by women, the friend said sharply, “You might as well.”

The man looked at his friend and finished the sip that was left in his beer glass.  Then when the bartender came over he ordered another, and one for his friend.

But before he ordered the beers he said to his friend, “Well, I guess I don’t have to ask how your date went Saturday.”

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