He walked out on our first date before even finishing his first beer.
“I should get back to my work.” Oh, you mean the work that didn’t need to be finished until 5pm, the next day?
I’m pretty sure my confidence, sleek leather jacket, and the comfortable pace at which I finished my glass of wine confused and/or startled him.
After he left, the waiter stopped over, eyeing the empty chair and half glass of beer next to me. “Are you doing alright?” The glint in his eye held a certain sense of knowing—the question was more about me being walked out on rather than if I wanted to order something else. “Oh I’m all set, thanks.” And I was, because I’m just not into folks who leave half glasses of good beer around, you know? I should have added, “It’s for the best, he was lactose intolerant anyway!”