Tepic, Mexico. Me and several other American basketball players went to the biggest nightclub in town. I’d been in Mexico for awhile by this point and, thanks to the years of Spanish I’d taken in high school, could speak and write understandable Spanish; I was holding productive conversations with people who didn’t speak a word of English.
I met a Mexican woman who was interested in me. We talked and danced for some time, and I knew this situation was “in the bag.” I had met her when I first walked in the club though, and hadn’t yet explored the rest of the venue. I told the woman I was going to walk around a bit and come back.
I met some other females on my walk, stopping to have some conversations and weigh my options for the night.
By the time I came back to the table where I’d last seen the original girl at, she and her friends had gone home for the night. A fiend told me what had happened: After waiting as long as she could and looking around to see if I was on my way back, she sighed and exited the club.
I went home by myself that night (not counting the American men).
I had been outside, and needed something from inside. I also needed to go to the bathroom.
There was a bathroom downstairs, but I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone, take the elevator up to my home first, and handle everything at once.
I get home only to discover that the bathroom is occupied. I went all the way back downstairs to use the bathroom, then came back up.
For Your Game
- A bird in the hand (analogy, not a euphemism) is always the best bet. But we, ever-so-curious, always want to peek and see what may be behind door #2…
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