Stolen Booty Call

For most individuals who stroll home from the bar finding out your elevator is broken is the end of the world especially when you live on a double-digit floor, yet this was not my case.  After failing to try to find my doorman and make him fix the elevator at 4 am, I started talking to the cute boy also stranded in the lobby. We chatted during our long trek up the stairs, because who when they are drunk thinks of using the service elevator?  As I approached my stop he inquired about stopping by for a bit too.  Normally I would say no but the alcohol and pain from my feet said, “what the hell”.  As we sat and chatted a bit more I learned he did not live in my building and to top it off he was here to see another lovely woman in the floor below me.  As he put his phone on silent and we started going at it I realized that even booty calling someone was no longer a sure thing.  It taught me to always go down and greet your suitor or at least have a back up.

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