Wrong Demographic

So, I got asked out on a date!!! But before you get too excited, I said no. Let me explain.

As you know, I go to the Mav. There's one right by my house and every single person who works there knows me. And my kids. Am I bragging? No, this is what's called a bragfession -- half brag, half confession. I'm bragging because I'm kind of like a celebrity when I go in there, which is especially nice when I'm having a bad day. They're all like, hey, Cara...and I'm like, hey, guys...what's shakin'? How's your mom? or whatever. I'm popular for the first time in my life! It's confession because, hello, it's Mav. And that's my brush with popularity/pseudo-celebrity? Embarrassing.

Yesterday, after a long stretch of studying Real Property (that's right...it's Party Central over here), I went for some liquid nourishment. I had showered, but not much else. Well, I was dressed too. This guy, who works weekends and nights (what? I know everyone's schedules over there), said, "Hey Beautiful!!" as I walked in the door. I turned around to see who had followed me in -- seriously, you should have seen me yesterday. You would understand.

As I was paying for my drink, he asked what I was doing later because he got off at 7....and maybe...you know, we could do something? I said that I'd love to and all, but I was studying for the bar and really couldn't take a break right now, blah blah blah excuses excuses.

He said, "Oh! You're going to be a bartender? Awesome!"

Right.