Last weekend, a dear friend of mine got married at a local state park/lodge outside of Chicago. Being that it was Labor Day weekend – you can imagine there were all sorts of folks around. Wedding guests, vacationers, campers, hikers, bikers (as in motorcyles…not a cyclist). Obviously, I was one of the wedding guests. Sporting my cute black strappy shoes, brand new flowing one-strap Vince Camuto dress, perfectly curled hair, red lips and sunglasses on. I thought I was rockin’ it…as did a ‘gentleman’. Let me just transcribe the scene which took place as I was walking from my car in the parking lot (carrying a wedding gift) to the lodge.
Me: walking hastily through the parking lot to avoid the heat/sweating I hear someone in the background, which I determine is directed at me.
Dude: “dddddddddaaaaayyyyyyymmmmmmm girl. You need a date to that wedding?!”
Me: (stops. turns around to see its a biker – leather chaps, leather vest, bandana…muy authentico) “ha, um no.”
Dude: “oh well, can’t blame a guy for trying!” (as 2 of the 5 companions in the biker group are ladies who are now laughing hysterically)
Me: “yah, A for effort”
Dude: “have fun”
Me…walking even faster, cursing under my breath as I breeze past a mother and child.
And that, my fellow dude readers….is NOT how you pick up a lady. ACCESS DENIED.
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