After spending time beating myself up for not being able to come up with anything remotely interesting to talk about this week, I took to Facebook and asked my friends and family for help (letting them know upfront that whatever ideas they submitted would absolutely be ripped off, with no type of compensation).  I even went so far as to guilt people to help (I’m awful, what can I say)?

While I was given some interesting topics (someone mentioned craisins: friend or foe?) I decided I felt too bad actually ripping off someone else’s idea.  So, I let the weekend come and go, and still didn’t have anything… or so I thought – cue Saturday night.

Brett’s nieces were over at the grandparent’s house for the night, so we met up with his sister and brother in law for some dinner and drinks.  As per the usual course when we’re all together, we headed on over to our favorite dive.  Brett and I were there a week earlier and it was dead.  Completely.  There was the bartender, us, and two other people – and those two were weirdos.  Seriously.

So, after the poor showing the previous week we were looking for a livelier crowd Saturday night.  And it was a bit livelier.  There was a kickball team there and it seemed like they had been there for awhile, so we went to sit outback (plus, the guys wanted to smoke their cigars).  As the night went on, people trickled in and out of the bar and came outside, chatted with us, etc.  You know, typical bar stuff.

What was not so typical had me speechless.  Our friends left, and it was just Brett and I sitting outside, enjoying the weather before the (predicted) storm hit us (it never did, by the way).  As we’re sitting there, one of the kick ballers comes outside again, and the three of us start chatting.  Mr. Kickball sits down in the chair beside me and slowly reaches his arm out and takes my drink out of my hand!  AND THEN DRINKS IT! Once he takes a sip, he really tried to hand it back, as if we were bff’s all of a sudden and it would be totally fine to share a drink.

Of course I immediately tell him no thank you, and that he can just finish it.  He even tried to argue about it with me saying. “what?  it’s not like I have herpes.”  Uh, thank you for clearing that up, however, rando, I will not be sharing drinks with you – so you can go ahead and keep that.  In fairness to my sticky fingered foe, he did try to make it up to me by offering to by me another drink.  Which I also turned down.

I do think he realized how awkward that entire situation was, though, because he got really quiet.  Sat my/his drink down and then just sort of slowly walked away, kind of watching Brett to make sure he wasn’t about to get beat up for theiving my drink.  This thought was further acknowledged when we went inside the bar to pay our tab and my drink’s assailant rushed out.

After two awkward Saturday encounters there, I think we might need to change the day of the week we go there.  No thank you awkward male humans!

Am I the only person this has ever happened to?  I wouldn’t be surprised if I was, these are the kinds of weird things that happen in my life.