Disclaimer: The following post maybe talks about sex or dating or other things that may make you squeamish if you’re one of my family members, ex-boyfriends, or a twelve-year old.
So you remember how several months ago I said I was taking a step back from dating?
Well, I really did it.
I mean, I’m human.
And charming as hell.
And often drunk.
But other than that.
(I don’t feel like I’m making my point here)
I deleted my online dating profiles, stopped trying to “put myself out there” and just kind of went about my life without thinking about dating. There are really only so many dismal dates a girl can go on before she starts to get cynical. And I don’t like being cynical.
Then about a month and a half ago, I was out with Minion, The Boss, and The Irishman. It was an epic night that didn’t end for us until 7am. Somewhere around 3AM, my world was incredibly blurry and we were in the filthy cesspool of drunken debauchery and regret-filled hookups that is East Dubuque, IL.
We go for the dancing - no, for real.
And the alcoholism.
Shortly after we arrived at our favorite dive, (aka, the one that will let The Boss in with her broken ID) I lost track of my cohorts. I wasn’t worried because, well, I’m Xena the fucking Warrior Princess. Nevertheless, some skeezy dude started to hit on me.
Because he wasn’t taking the hint (which was, “No really – go the fuck away”) I surveyed the crowd for friends and acquaintances but saw none. So I looked for the next best thing – someone who looked tougher than the guy I was talking to, but nice enough that he probably wouldn’t be more murdery**.
I saw just such a man standing at the bar and I approached him. I introduced myself and said I needed him to pretend he was my friend so I could shake the creepy dude. He was happy to oblige. We chatted for a while and the creepy guy went away, presumably to find a girl who was drunker and more likely to ignore how slimy he was (hint: she was crying in a corner, covered in someone else’s vomit).
After some charming conversation that I can’t remember at all (other than thinking he seemed very sweet), we exchanged numbers right before my friends found me and dragged me off to continue on our adventure.
We texted for a couple of days and idly tried to plan a date. I was able to find out that he had a steady job and seemed to be pretty driven. But because our schedules were both pretty busy with other obligations, I lost interest after a week or so when no plans were made.
After all, we had met in a drunken stupor at 3AM.
Fast forward to a couple of weekends ago, same time, same place. Only differences: my hair was barrel-curled and I was wearing a different dress - oh and +50 to soberness.
As we entered the bar and headed to the back where all the dancing goes down, I saw a cute boy sitting along the sidelines. That’s when I realized that it was the boy from a month ago and no, it hadn’t just been the drunk goggles - he was cute.
Then I realized he was, contrary to my hazy memory, taller than me. That was another reason I’d lost interest. Because I’m incredibly shallow, apparently. It seems The Boss’s prejudices against short men (she’s supermodel-tall) are starting to infect my brain. How I had come to the conclusion he was shorter than me is beyond my understanding. I wasn’t wearing heels the first time (hello, shitty ankles) and I’m pretty sure he was standing. Maybe the alcohol just made me feel taller than my 5’7” frame.
We ended up talking again, this time with a lot more sobriety and a lot more blushing and starry-eyed staring at each other. It was cute in that way that makes you want to puke at least a little bit. Good thing I was so much more sober because I’m pretty sure that puking on a guy because you think he’s cute only works in Jennifer Lopez movies.
Over the next several days we talked on the phone a ton. I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. A little over a week ago we went on a date. In the last ten days we’ve seen each other four times and have plans to do something again tonight.
I don’t know where this is going, but I have to admit, it’s a nice change of pace.
**I had to email my favorite IT Programmer the other morning to change something in our system to the status of “Cancelled”. This lead to a brief email conversation about how apparently both “Canceled” and “Cancelled” are acceptable. That same day on my lunch break, I started this blog. As I typed “more murdery” into Microsoft Word, ridiculousness happened so I had to email him about it:
Me: I just typed “more murdery” into Microsoft Word. Of course, the little “Girl, you messed up” squiggles appeared under the words. Instead of “Hey, didn’t you mean murder?” Microsoft Word was all like “Hey, didn’t you mean murderier?” And so, yeah, I guess if you want me to use another, more grammatically correct (gramaticorrectier?) made up word, I’ll go for it. Thanks, Microsoft.
Him: Wait… What the hell were you typing that required use of the word “murdery?” Sounds like someone is plotting some evil. Remind me not to mess with you; otherwise, I’ll end up seeing how “murdery” you can get.
Me: Don’t you worry about what I was typing. The important part of that email was proving that Microsoft doesn’t know what it’s talking about. Focus.