Way, way before Shawn, I had a crush on a guy. He had Barry Gibbs from the Bee Gees hair and was the older brother of one of my sister's friends. Whenever she would visit, I got all excited. I would prepare well in advance. I would select just the right outfit. I would invite one of my own friends over to help me "wash the car" in the off chance that he was with his mom when she came to pick up his sister. Decked out in what a twelve year old would think was cute, cut-off shorts and spaghetti strap tank tops, we would suds up for what seemed like hours, scrubbing my mom's landshark Lincoln over and over again as I hoped for just a quick glance at the drive-by, maybe he would even get out of the car and talk to me. It never happened. All that wasted water. All those pissed off friends, eventually figuring out they'd been used. But tonight was payback time. I was the car washing friend along for the ride. Trying to duck out of a Match.com guy coming to the door moment, the lovely Louise opted for a meet me at a lipstick call scenario instead. I brought fellow expert car washer Shawn (he has great hair, too). We had some wine, sudsing up over and over again until date guy showed up, funny one we had actually met awhile ago. Just like old times laughing about biker shorts, Shawn's Banana Boat parked outside, the passion package, movie or dinner or movie or dinner with the hilarious ambulance chaser attorney until the car was washed, the girl in the fishnets was happy and the props at the bar headed home, happy to have helped.
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