Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates Read Online Free PDF Page A

were legitimately “run for the fucking hills” types, and we translated that into “drink your way through it, then run for the bedroom.” But they were all babes. We weren’t going on these dates to find love. We wanted to get weird and maybe have a couple of ’gasms along the way. It was mostly about entertainment and pushing it as far as we could every night. Dave began telling the girls about our childhood and how we grew up, except he was completely deadpan explaining that we were interracial adopted brothers who were also cops with a penchant for robbing New York City subway cars. He was essentially reciting the plot of the movie Money Train, without anyone catching on. When we would get really messed up, one of us would find it hilarious to call dibs on one gal while her friend was within earshot. That move never worked out for anyone, but it did make us laugh.
    Double Datin’.
    We went to the same exact bar on every single date: Whiskey Town. It was close to Dave’s apartment, we knew the fellas in charge, and there was a back door that was perfect for Irish exits. More often than not, there was a Beautiful Girl and her Okay Friend. I think Okay was out there looking for Mr. Right and having no luck, so Okay’s mom emailed her our ad after watching the Today show. Okay took it as a sign and put together a creative response, then convinced her hottest friend to let her slap some Facebook photos in the response. And it worked, too. Dave loved calling dibs on the hot one. My response to this cheap shot usually depended on my level of intoxication. If I was in decent shape, I’d act offended in front of the gals, appalled at Dave’s dick move. If I was drunk enough to be jealous, I’d spend the rest of the night trying to sabotage him until the girls were disgusted enough to leave.
    We had only one date that went so terribly that we had to bail midway. We just couldn’t handle it. The Okay gal was absolutely nuts, and her hot friend wasn’t far behind. Okay gal actually started eating the flowers I brought her (flowers are my calling card—Dave’s is keeping his socks on during sex). We snuck out when they went to the bathroom to freshen up. When we got a few blocks away, we stopped under some scaffolding to discuss just how crazy Okay gal was. Suddenly, she came sprinting out of nowhere and grabbed Dave like a spider monkey! I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Next thing I know, Dave is screaming, “Get it off me, get it off me!” and the girl is wrapped around him with her head up and inside of his shirt . He finally pushes her down his legs and off his body, but she is really holding on. Without warning, she sprints off into the night screaming “I need to see you die!” For a while, Dave and I just stared at each other. Dave lifted up his shirt to check out the damage to his chest. She had bitten him right between the nipples. I didn’t know there was enough skin there to bite on to, but she’d done it. I could see her incisor imprints. We called it a night.
    We were starting to notice some issues with our version of “online dating.” These girls weren’t looking for love or companionship; they were looking for publicity, sex, free drinks, and a story to tell their girlfriends at their next bottomless mimosa brunch. After the chest-biter, we started to prep a little more.
    We would hit Whiskey Town early, much earlier than we told the gals to meet us there, because we had learned to get a little destroyed predate. One night, I swear the girls were juniors in college (but read at a senior level). We decided not to ID them—we’re not cops, okay? They had gained entry into the bar, and that was good enough by us. They were college hot . They were the type of girls who would not have given us the time of day back in school. They were even too hot for us with the older-guy card in play. We did have