I love my friends.

My New York friends have gone crazy. Hee. Here’s what happened.

Friday night at 6 p.m., I get a text message from Carolina: "Alert!ALERT!T1 sighting across Bronx bar we have not yet engaged the target."

I thought this meant she had spotted a boy she wanted to flirt with, so I replied, “How hot is target?”

Soon my phone was ringing and Laura explained that I’d misunderstood. Laura, Carolina and Ryan went out for dinner and drinks after work. They spotted someone they thought might be Mr. B, a.k.a. Tom 1.0, across the bar. Apparently it had been a rough week at work, because tipsiness had already set in. They had decided to engage in some kind of covert mission to discover whether it was, indeed, Mr. B. I suggested, “Just go ask him.” This set off a flurry of debate. “Fine,” I replied, “I’ll just call him and ask where he is.” But Mr. B didn’t answer the phone.

The next think I knew, Ryan was giving me a play-by-play as Laura crossed the room, discovered it was Mr. B and brought him over to the group. Then Carolina had the phone. “Do you want to talk to him?” “I don’t know,” I replied. “Just say, ‘Yes, I want to talk to him’ or ‘No, I don’t want to talk to him,” Carolina said. And by “said,” I mean “yelled,” because the bar was obviously loud. So loud, in fact, that I had to yell, too, for her to hear me. Anyway, she’d been yelling this with him standing right there, so I said, “Sure, Carolina, give him the phone.” Then I heard, “HERE. ERIN WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!” Hee.

When he picked up, I said, “My friends are being weird. I’m so sorry.”

“What? Perverted?”

“No, not perverted. Weird! MY FRIENDS ARE BEING WEIRD.”

He laughed and we chatted briefly. He asked what I was up to and I tried to explain, but he couldn’t really hear me. I yelled that my friends could tell him what’s up. He asked if I was ever coming back to New York, and I replied that I’d be back for a week in January. He said I should call him while I’m back, because he wants to see me. Me: “Okay, sure.” Erm…okay, sure? Well, I’m friends with most of my other ex-boyfriends, so why not?

Carolina got the phone back. “You’re not mad, right?” “No,” I said, “I’m not mad.” “Good,” she replied, “because you can’t be! There is alcohol involved, so you can’t me mad. And if you’re not mad, you can’t put it on the blog in a negative light.” Heh.

“Not in a negative light,” I replied, “But the story will be told!”

“Well, I guess we have to give you that.”