Modely-Type

Last night was Rob's cousin's birthday. We went out in Manhattan with him, his girlfriend and a handful of his buddies from college.

They were dude-like dudes, if you know what I mean. Rob's friends are geekier and pretty close to the kind of people I would have been friends with in high school, but these guys are "cool"... the kind that would have ignored me in high school, talked about their cars, and dated hot, skinny blonds wearing more makeup than my mother ever would have allowed. (They were really nice, and fun to talk to, but, you know... they were dudes!)

We went to a bar on one side of the street, and then walked across for dinner. After dinner, Rob realized that he had left his laptop at the bar, so he rushed over to retrieve it. (It was there, it was fine.) Someone asked him how the crowd at the bar had changed in the few hours we were having dinner.

He was pretty unenthusiastic about the scene. "I dunno. It's weird. There are all modely-type girls there now." He shrugged.

They all glanced at each other and grinned. "Let's go!"

Rob and I laughed, and went home.