By Jake Rossen
By Jesse Marx
By Michelle LeBow
By Alleen Brown
By Maggie LaMaack
By CP Staff
By Jesse Marx
Right, Chuck, I remember you too. Advertising, ladies, har har har.
Chuck told me that he graduated from St. Cloud State and wishes he had gotten sloshed more often because every time he goes on a job interview, they just assume that he's a hardcore partier anyway.
"Nobody ever asks about my GPA," Chuck lamented.
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I told Chuck that in college I was in a sorority.
"What did you have to do to get in?" he asked, leaning forward so far he nearly knocked over my eighth glass of Cabernet.
"Pillow fight," I said.
"Really? Just like on TV? In your panties and stuff?" Chuck's eyes rolled back as he drifted into his own little world. "That's awesome. Wow! That's beautiful."
"Chuck," I said. "I was kidding. It's not really that way."
"That's okay, I was just fantasizing for a moment," Chuck said. "That just made my night, that visual. Thank you. I'd like to say 'cheers' to that."
Right, Chuck. Cheers.
Ding, ding, ding. The bells were ringing and the night was over.
Caroline, it seemed, had broken the rules. She hadn't had a fresh date since intermission, instead spending her time talking to a living Ken doll. She was blushing like a bride on her honeymoon.
Almost everyone seemed to have found someone special. Bruce, the football stud, was leaving with an ex-cheerleader. Craig was snuggled up in the corner with some shy girl; Chuck was trying to look down a woman's shirt. Even Roberto was reclining in a booth surrounded by a swarm of giggling girls.
At that moment, I wondered where my boyfriend was. I found him off in the corner, dutifully taking pictures for my story. Speed dating was fun, but I already had a date and it was time to go home, just the two of us.
On the drive back to Uptown, I proudly boasted that I had gotten someone's number: Caroline's. I can't wait to hear all about Ken.