You were cute-drunk the other night. It was fun drunk, though, and you seemed to be enjoying yourself. You caught my eye first, or rather, stole a random fry off my plate first, but I was OK with that - you were worth catching my eye. Then your husband didn't react badly when I started flirting with him. You both looked like you were having an enjoyable time watching the show. I figured that would be the end of it.
Then, he kept flirting with me. A little touch on the shoulder here. A wink there. Eating fries right out of my hand (quite literally). I was about ready to take one or both of you home - or at least out back! When he left to get you two your own food, you and I chatted a bit - and you told me you don't get out or have fun very often for very good reasons.
Then, all too soon, you both left. It was very early in the morning but very late at night. You had to get home to responsibilities (and hopefully a not-too-bad hangover). There was a hug, a few whispered questions... but alas, it was not to work out. I wish it had.
Even though it didn't work out, I hope to see you again in three months when you treat yourself to going out again. You give me hope - that a larger, but damn sexy woman can find a wonderful, flirty, really-darn-attractive guy that wants to sleep with you on a regular basis. That won't freak out about someone else hitting on both of you.
And hey, if you two decide you're looking to play with a third, I would jump on that offer (pun intended) in two seconds flat.
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