right back 'atcha

NotDimples and I weaved in and out of conversation all night, over the course of many hours. At the end of the night, he insisted on walking me out to help me find a cab.

TheBarmaid: So....

NotDimples: So....

TheBarmaid: You aren't going to ask for my number?

NotDimples: Well....

TheBarmaid: I don't understand. Help me understand. You talked to me all night.

NotDimples: I should go back in and hang out with my friends.

TheBarmaid: Oh? Are you gay? If you are, I'm sorry -- you don't have to ask for my number.

NotDimples: I'm not gay. But what would you say if I told you I was married?

TheBarmaid: Are you kidding?! I can't do this again this week. Where's your wedding ring? Where's, um, your wife?

NotDimples: I don't wear a wedding ring. And my wife is asleep across the street at our house.

TheBarmaid: I don't have time for this. I don't understand why you spent so much time talking to me tonight and this never came up.

NotDimples: Well, when you see a beautiful, sexy woman in a room, you have a conversation --

TheBarmaid: (spinning on heels and walking away) I've heard those superlatives before, this week, actually, and I have to go.

NotDimples calls after me and then retreats back into the bar to fetch his friend, Eric-with-a-K.

I cross the street and there is nary a cab in sight. I call my friend, who started the night with me and left a few minutes before I did, to fill her in on the tragic end of NotDimples and to philosophize (as you only can at 2 in the morning) as to why Philanderer's Quarterly has declared me "Centerfold of the Year".

Normally, the actions of NotDimples wouldn't have bothered me quite so much, but compounded with the rest of the week's events I was out for the count. I start a loud "NotDIMPLES WAS MARRIED! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?" conversation while trying to find a cab on the desolate street. At this point, NotDimples and Eric-with-a-K leave the bar, hear my conversation and exclaim, "Calm down! It's not that big of a deal!"

"You shut up!" I retort.

Enter the DCPD.

The police car turns the corner and pulls over to me. The officer rolls down the window of the passenger side.

TheBarmaid: "Officers. I know you're on duty and this isn't in your job description but I've had a really bad week. First I found out the guy that I've been sort-of involved with for the last seven months got engaged last month. And took me out to dinner this week. And failed to mention it to me. Then that guy over there spent all night flirting with me [Officers turn to look] and it turns out he's married with a wife at home. It would be kind of great to make a big exit right now."

Officer1: "Get in."

Officer2: "Guys are scum. We'll get him."

They pull a u-turn in the street, slowly tail NotDimples and Eric-with-a-K, activate the siren in a short spurt, and speed me away to better days and a brighter future.

I open the partition to talk to them on the way home. Turns out I'm the first Indian girl they've ever carted around in the backseat of the squad car. I thank them profusely for the rescue. Officer1 puts on his PR hat and says, "Maybe you can spread the word that, you know, police officers aren't horrible people." Officer2 goes into Media Relations mode and agrees, "Yeah, we have kind of a bad rap. We're good guys."

And that they were -- in one fell swoop turning a week laden with half-truths, deceit, and dishonesty into the night the DCPD drove me home in the greatest, grandest exit I've ever made in my life.

from here

Eh, i'll do this for you once I get my license [soon.er, real soon] and we'll affix a siren on my [dad's] car

P/s : I love the blog. Its so funny.