Sometimes when I write, “I think will my mom read this and should I be aware of that when I write?” Then I realize while I look for my parents approval, they are not the sole target audience. They may not agree with what I write and find it offensive, but they will still accept and love me (they probably shake there heads sometimes as well).When I was brainstorming for this week, that was a thought I had. It relates to the weekend during my anniversary date I had with the wife.
Woo girl was my waitress at a joint we ate at.
This is the woo girl story.
It was Christmas 2014. I had duty, which meant I spent Christmas sleeping on base and tending to the fleet. On the day after, I went home amped up with cabin fever. I took a nap, ate some food, and asked if the sis wanted to go hang out.
Since the sis had moved up, I had to ensure people understood that we were a brother/sister duo and not anything else. I was sure to be an asshole and put her in situations outside her comfort zone. That night I played the old have you met Addi game (Yes, from How I Met Your Mother. Which turned out to be a disappointment after watching the same plot play out over its 8-years too long of a run.) to the guy sitting next to me at the bar. He was a tackle box face and apparently on the feminine side when he spoke. I had been scoping out the talent at the bar, and decided to make my move towards a couple of ladies on the opposite side. As soon as I left the sis high and dry, I waltzed over and told them how much of an asshole I was for doing that. They giggled and stuff. We began to banter and hit if off.
Now from here on, it’s a little sketchy. We went to a few other spots, took some shots, she said “woo!” a bunch, and then we went back to my place. The next morning her friend came and picked her up, walk of shame style. I don’t remember her name nor did I ask for her number. Hence the code name woo girl.
Fast forward to my anniversary date with the wife. We had a hotel room and were walking around downtown Norfolk, stopping in at different places and having a drink. We were making our way back and stopped in at a bar named Norfolk Taphouse. We sat down, ordered our drinks and appetizer and then proceeded to joke on each other. She told me the owner of this place was the same owner of Longboards (the same place where I picked up woo girl). As the night went on, I noticed the waitress’s face finally. It was dark and she was usually behind me asking questions.
When she dropped off the bill, I finally got a good look at her face. It was woo girl.
Prior to Krissi and I dating and eventually getting married, she was supposed to be my wing-man. I had divulged my endeavors and she thought they were hilarious.
I turned to my wife and told her. It then became my mission to verify it was her. I am terrible with names, but I can remember a face. Her hair was different (that probably threw me off in the beginning) but it was her. The wife and I exchanged laughs about coincidence and how awkward we could have made it if it had been realized earlier. It probably would have gone horribly wrong. We were on the tail end of our adventure and the whiskey was running low.
Now, what did I learn from all this? Stories like woo girl is how you get herpes, and herpes never goes away. The girl may leave, but herpes is there forever. I was fortunate.
Do work, be rad