One of the girls must have been about six foot, and gorgeous. The other two weren't as tall as the first girl, but also gorgeous. The bitch in me rolled my eyes and made fun of the fact that the three blonde girls were like honey to bees - the bees happening to be any male within a ten foot radius suddenly pulling out all tricks (including a passing dressed-up Leprechaun) to get their attention.
I soon ignore the meat fest, and went back to my conversation, putting in a pun here and there about the events behind me.
Somehow, I struck up a conversation with one of the blondes. "Are you girls German"... "No, we're from Holland". Ten minutes later, my boyfriend and I were invited to hang out with the girl on her boat during Amsterdam Mardi Gras when we are there later this year. Phone numbers were exchanged. And an emphatic plea for us to make sure we call her when we get there.
I then bought the girls a bottle of champagne that any other bloke in that bar would have bought to get into their knickers...
The perception that they were a gaggle of light headed blondes who were after a good time and a free drink was what I originally thought. But upon closer inspection, they were a lovely bunch of girls just out for a drink, celebrating their friends arrival. It wasn't their fault that their beauty and blondness attracted the attention of others.
I swallow my judgement, and shall remember from now on that although most times you can judge a book by its cover, sometimes you cant.
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