Eric: Truth or Dare, Alice?
Alice: Dare, of course. My lips are sealed. My secrets are sacred.
Eric: You have to kiss Marc. And we do not care about your secrets. Your life seems boring and predictable.
Alice: Like it’s the first time. Come on, Marc. Prepare your lips.

It was a quick touch of the lips. But the gang was left intrigued by the “like it’s the first time”. Now we know what to ask her if she ever chooses Truth. Eric was next.

Alice: Truth or Dare, Eric?
Eric: Truth. There is nobody I want to kiss in this room.
Alice: Worst date ever. Spill the beans. The worst among the thousands you had.
Eric: Easy. Not that long ago. A month ago, to be accurate. First we met online. A site with boys. Their profiles. Their dimensions, their hobbies, their interests. Their poetry.
Alice: There is even poetry?
Eric: Some weirdos post poetry next to the close-ups of their family jewels. Anyway his name was Patrick. He said he was 42 years old. He sent only one photo. Suspicious. But fine. I figured he was married.
Alice: You do married guys?
Eva: Eric does anything that breathes.
Eric: They don’t have to. But it feels more fun if they are alive. Anyway we agreed to meet at 9pm at Manor, since it was Thursday and I went over to buy some bed sheets that you, Eva, told me Manor had on sale. The Laura Ashley ones that were looked tacky. Midwest tacky. So I went for Calvin Klein ones. More discreet, fitting better my discreet lifestyle. But they were not on sale. But I figured, since I went over, I could not leave empty handed.
Alice: GET TO THE DATE. We do not care about your bed sheets.
Marc: Maybe the bed sheets were more interesting than the date itself.
Eric: Close, Marc, very close. Anyway at 9 o’clock I was at the little fountain. Within seconds I was approached by an older gentleman who I thought was about to ask me where to get a cab. “Patrick” he said. “Jesus Christ”, I answered. “Not Eric?”, he asked. “Eric, Eric, I said. Sorry about that”. Did I say older gentleman before? My grandpa would be more accurate. 65 years old, some hair on one side, but quite long to cover the entire scalp. His turtleneck, beize. His wool coat, brown. My disappointment, huge. My shock, christian (see Jesus Christ).
Alice: Did you sleep with him?
Eric: (hugely aggressive threatening eyes to Alice, to the point she stood up and left to the WC). Given the loving spirit of the festive days, I decided to just have a drink with him. Maybe he could give me some advice for life, till I meet again my real grandpas. But this had to happen fast. The first bar I see we’re going in, I thought. To his question where we are going, I replied swiftly “to my favorite bar of course”. And with this, I opened the door of the first corner bar we saw. As we went in, I waved to the bar tender, like we are best buddies.
Eva: And what did the bartender do?
Eric: He smiled and waved back. The staff at Black Sheep is just amazing.
Eva: Oh my God, your favorite bar is the Black Sheep? Since when you have a favorite bar you’re going without me? When did you start going? I’ve heard a lot about Black Sheep.
Eric: That night was my first night. But there will be a lot more. You guys will love it. It is not big, but the right size to feel cozy. Lots of American references, like the barrels. As you go in, a sign greets you as family. Nice, no? Darkish, rather atmospheric. The music is popular and happy. The right soundtrack for a Saturday night. The crowd is young and unpretentious. We love that, tight? The drinks are very reasonably priced. We love that even more, right? I had a bourbon that night as the most obvious choice to speed up the date.
Eva: I want to go! Let’s go this week.
Marc: I’m in. As long as you are my dates and not your grandpa.
Alice (back from the WC): So what happened to that date finally?
Eva: No idea. We lost interest in it faster than Eric himself. But we discovered a new bar. We are going this week!

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