I woke up next to Nicole feeling 90 percent better, but that might have had to do with the fact that I slept really soundly next to Nicole. I can’t remember the last time I made it through the entirety of the night without waking up thirsty or in desperate need of urination, but it was nice. She woke me up at 6AM scrubs-clad, and bumping into the edge of my bed. This was the first time I’d actually heard her curse. I learned that she went for the obscenity in the case of injury, and I loved that about her. She told me to go back to bed, and something in me couldn’t. I “made” her breakfast in the form of pouring Corn Flakes into a bowl, followed by almost expiring milk.
She left and I hazily started getting ready for work, somehow managing to be early for the first time in quite some time. There was a nagging in my stomach, telling me to cancel on the date for the night and I weighed the options for a solid hour before begrudgingly texting the girl to tell her that I was looking forward to later.
Fast Forward to six forty-five and I’m across the table from a born and raised Jersey girl. If you aren’t from New York. I mean really, truly from New York, not a transplant from the mid-west, you probably don’t get the New York hatred of Jersey. Jersey girls leave a bitter taste in your mouth worse then cheap scotch. CT girls are AOK, but you best beware of Jersey girls. Some of them fly under the radar, and are more than slightly ashamed of it, but no, not this girl. Within minutes about talking about Red Hook, I knew that feeling was akin to something you get in your stomach before tragedy is about to strike, not a twinge of guilt. I asked her questions to calculate an escape plan, but wound up staying there for hours, ordering more rounds than I should have. It was one of the most expensive, bad dates of the project.
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