Because The Archaeologist cares what we think of his potential ladyfriend(s), he asked both myself and another one of our coworkers to lurk on his crushes myspace page and tell him what we thought (because we’re both incredibly jaded and brutally honest).
He initially met her around Hallowe’en and she gave him her number but he was drunk out of his mind and forgot where he put it, only to find it months later in the ‘pocket where you put a handkerchief’ (aka. a pocket square, but whatevs).
He ran into her at the bar again and they chatted and he apologized for not calling her but he had lost her number, numbers were exchanged once again, blah blah blah.
The Archaeologist has a pretty shoddy track record with the ladies and borderline questionable taste (ahem, the manager at a competing skate shop – which, fyi, is probably against the rules) so when he told us she was attractive we intoned that ‘we’d be the judges of that’ and he then insisted that she looked like one of the models in the WESC catalogue (which is flase – they only look alike in the sense that both are women with blonde hair and blue eyes) and that we’d see for ourselves when she came in the next day.
But it seems asking for our opinions is like opening Pandora’s box and once we get going, we just can’t stop. It got to the point where he wanted us to stop but we couldn’t and he had to excuse himself.
At least we warned him that we’re total bitches and impossible to please…