How Tom Brady Ruined My Life

I stopped by an Applebee’s in Dawsonville, Georgia  for an early dinner on my way home today. Since I was alone I took a seat at the bar rather than bother asking for a table.

Before the bartender had time to notice that I was there, this stunning young lady in her mid 30’s, dressed in business attire came in and asked if the seat next to me was taken, even though every other seat at the bar was empty. I’m sure I looked giddily pleased when the bartender brought the menus and asked us what we’d like to drink cause this girl would have been out of my league even if she wasn’t half my age but since he was giving me a subliminal thumbs up of approval, I sort of let him believe what he apparently believed.

After he walked away we clumsily introduced ourselves, her name was Candace she lives near Jonesboro, Georgia, a couple of hours away and she is a pharmaceutical rep for Pfizer Pharmaceuticals. Never been married with no kids. Incredibly intelligent and very easy to get to know but the whole time we were chatting, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Is this a joke? Does someone I know, know her and I’m being gooned? Is there a camera rolling somewhere? What’s the catch? After all. I’ve got underwear older than this girl.

I guess we had been sitting together there for at least an hour. The place was starting to get busy and as the bar filled up with the locals when I finally realized that I was “That Guy”. The “what in the hell is she doing with That Guy?”. But it didn’t bother me a bit. And if she noticed, it didn’t bother her either or she didn’t seem to let on anyway.

It wasn’t till the bartender brought the check that it finally hit me. She’s been sitting here looking like eye candy on my arm, knowing me being from the generation I am from that I’m not about to let her pay for her meal. And she was right. I took the check and reached for my wallet. But she grabbed it out of my hand saying “No. I’ve got an expense account. Let me”. So, well. I let her.

Then while we were waiting on her card, just when I was figuring this little dream was coming to a close. I heard her say “I’m dying to see that”. I looked up. She was staring at one of the televisions that had an “American Sniper” trailer running on it. I said “yea, me too”. She then told me that since it was getting so late and the traffic wasn’t getting any better, she was thinking she would just get a room rather than drive home and then back up here tomorrow. And if I wasn’t doing anything she’d love to go see the movie if I knew a theatre somewhere it was playing. I told her there was a place just up the street and I had no plans that I couldn’t change (not that it would have mattered).

Then it happened.

Since my eyes had been drawn to the television by the movie trailer, I guess it held my attention a bit longer than it should’ve because all of a sudden the regularly scheduled programming was interrupted by that damn Tom Brady lying about having any idea that Sunday’s playoff game was rigged.

As we walked toward the door I couldn’t stop thinking how the Sea Hawks would have wiped the field with New England had there been just two more freakin’ pounds of air in the balls.

She smiled as we got outside and asked, “do you want to drive or do you want me to”? I gave her a little peck on the cheek and said, “Sorry honey, I’m just not in the mood anymore. Maybe some other time”. She said, “I understand”.

Thanks Tom.

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