This past week has been, hands down, my favorite week in Austin. The reason I haven't written is because I have been literally going from work straight to the bar every day in a massive week-long bender, starting with a date on Monday. Remember how I approached the girl at the concert when I was black out wasted, and got her number? The next day I had no idea what her name was or what she looked like, and spent the whole day under blankets on the couch watching Grey's and repenting for being such a D-bag the night before in front of all my friends. But Sunday, I decided to call the number.

I was completely expecting a car salesman or housewife to pick up on the other end of the bum number, but I had to know if it was real or not. I'd come this far, and I needed to see it through to the end. It rang, and rang. Thank Christ her voicemail picked up, because remember... I had no idea what her name was. "Hi, this is Erica, please leave a message." And oh, did I ever leave a message.

"Oh my God, you gave me your real number." The second that came out of my mouth I froze and heard screaming in my head. I continued to choke out the most fucking awkward message a man has ever left a woman. I screamed, "NOOOOOO!" at my phone the second I hung up, and then got back on the couch under the blankets to put back on Grey's. Monday, she called back.

We made plans to go out for a drink after work at the local bar near where we both work. Though I knew her name, I had no idea what she looked like. The only reason I agreed to this was because I remember thinking that she was out of my league when I approached her wasted. As soon as she walked into the bar, I remembered her. As we sat there and talked she pointed out that all of the other guys at the bar were looking over at me, and asked which team I played for. "Why they're looking over here is simple," I told her, "I'm the douchebag with the hot girl."

I had found my A-game and we hit it off beautifully. I walked her out to her car and we started making out in the parking lot. It was just like being back in highschool, except that we were making out.

To celebrate, when I got home I treated myself to a few frosty cold ones downstairs at the bar. I struck up a conversation with a married woman because I was feeling pretty confident, and we hit it off too. Ten o'clock turned into two o'clock, and beers turned into shots. Once the bar closed down, I first tried talking her back to my place, and when that failed miserably I told her I would walk her to her car. I am totally a parking lot maker-outer.

I'll share the second half of the week tomorrow.