Tuesday, August 13, 2013

things fall right into my lap sometimes.

An update on the hobo spider situation: There is no situation to note as of now. We haven't seen anymore, thankfully. I'll be fog bombing again this weekend just to make sure any demon seeds weren't hanging out in their pods waiting to hatch when we last bombed.

Now for the real story.

Something strange happened the other night and I'm about to tell you all about it. I am at the bar, watching an awesome funk band, grooving my booty off, and having a killer time. I notice my drink is empty, so I step up to the bar to order another gin and tonic. The guy to my right has been sitting there since before I walked up, so when the bartender gives me the 'I'm listening' nod, I motion to the dude and say 'He actually got here first.' So dude orders his drink and thanks me, looking at me like I'm a crazy person for letting him go first. And I'm basically like, "Whatever, it's the right thing to do, he probably just didn't see you." Then I order my drink, which quickly arrives, and I dance away into the crowd and think nothing of it.

A few minutes later, I decide to step outside for some air (to pollute my lungs with smoke, obvi). Strangely enough, I step into the alley and no one else is out there, which is kind of a nice change of pace from the sweatfest inside. Actually, there is one other person outside and it just happens to be dude from the bar. So we look at each other and smile and are both kind of like, "Oh, look who it is." Nods of recognition are exchanged.

And of course, I'm a freak, so I ask him if he has a lighter in a British accent.


This is how I know I've found a keeper, people. When a man answers me in a strange fake accent from the get-go and accepts that I speak in fake accents the majority of the time. So I look at him and kind of widen my eyes a little bit and say, "Oh, so now we should probably have a conversation, huh?"

To which he replies in the affirmative and we proceed to have a very entertaining and banter-laden chat. We'll now refer to him as the Scandinavian.

A few minutes into the talk, he is like "Can you just hold on for seriously like thirty seconds? Just, I really, REALLY have to pee. Very, very badly.  Can you please just wait here for a minute and just be here when I get back? I will be really fast. Like, super fast."

Now normally, I'd be like, yeahhhhhhhhhhh, no. It was nice to meet you, but I've got friends inside and the band is on and maybe I'll see you around. And then I'd be on my merry way. BUT THE BRITISH ACCENT HAD ME HOOKED. Obviously. So INSTEAD, I  tell him that I'll hang out for a second. And so there I am, standing in an alley by myself outside of a concert, waiting for the Scandinavian. Who, to his credit, is an incredibly fast pisser.

Anyway he gets back thirty seconds later and sees I'm still milling around outside, waiting for him, and he's like "WHEW. You're still here."

So we dive back into our conversation and I'm thinking to myself, "Why is this dude talking to me? I'm dressed like a boy, I haven't washed my hair in days, and I am sweaty." Not attractive. Meanwhile, he's like 6'3", handsome, and really interesting. The math does not add up here. But I'm going with it. Plus I'm already a little buzzed, so my social anxiety is at a minimum for any and all handsome strangers.
Suddenly, this guy looks at me and says, I SHIT YOU NOT, "I'm enjoying this. I really like talking to you. I think I want to keep talking to you. Do you want to get coffee in the morning?"

HOLD UP, because things like this do not happen to me. 

I'm a bit befuddled at this point because it seems that generally the guys I meet just try to go ahead and take me home when I'm good and drunk and not really bother with my superior intellect the next morning. Not that I go home with them, just that seems to be where most conversations lead by the end of the evening.

So I say yes, because this is novel and intriguing. I just met a man at a bar and he's not trying to sleep with me immediately. Yowza. He gives me his phone number and we make plans regarding where to meet and I text him my number and then we keep talking until my friend Courtney wanders out to see where the hell I've been for the past half an hour. At that point I bid this new fella adieu and head back in to the concert. Where I proceed to get stupendously drunk.

I then wisely ride my bicycle home, to my new house, and get pretty famously lost. I'm talking OUT LOUD to myself pep-talk style, peddling around the darkened streets of Missoula at 2 am, trying to find the place I've lived for approximately 36 hours without the luxury of night vision. Luckily, I did have my head lamp. I must have looked like a straight up loon. Or just awesome. Possible a cross between the two. By the time I finally manage to locate the alley that will take me to my back door, I am wound up tighter than a drum and it is nearly three in the morning. And I'm supposed to meet this dude at ten. So I really need to get some shut eye.

But the moment I crawl into bed, I hear my roommate Brigit, park her bike on the deck. So I go out and we get to chatting about our evenings and start drinking more beers.... until 430 rolls around and I'm like "Shit, I'm going to look strung out as fuck tomorrow, I should have been in bed four hours ago." And I stumble to bed and sleep like the dead.

Naturally, I wake up at 9:45 the next morning, looking frighteningly akin to a crackhead who just stuck their finger into an electrical socket. And I smell homeless. Killer.

Isn't it just like me to blow it with the first guy in a while who actually wants to see me in the light of day before he ever actually sees me in the light of day? Yes. It's just like me.
Anyway. I decide there is no way that in 15 minutes I can make myself presentable and get to where I'm going because my car is still parked downtown and I need to go retrieve it before I get more parking tickets. So I decide I'm going to try to reschedule coffee for a time when I am less hung-over, more well-rested, and appropriately groomed. When I look at my phone, I see that the Scandinavian texted me to say "Good Morning!" at 9:15.

HE TEXTED AT 9:15 to make sure I knew he was serious about this whole coffee ordeal. At this point, I'm feeling so awful that I almost wish I WOULD have just gone home with the guy. Not really. Okay, almost. Anyway, this happens:


This person held me accountable for plans that I made?! Who does that? No one tells me no! No one EVER tells me no when I cancel with them! And this person, just, just, just straight up said NO, we are not rescheduling, you're going to show up because I want to see you and I'll accept you in any state that you come in today. At least that's how I read that.

Which, guys, I really, really like. Sometimes I need someone to call me on my bullshit. So I throw on a dress and brush my teeth and get Brigit to drive me downtown to retrieve my wayward vessel. Note that I do not put in my contacts, apply makeup, or bother to brush my hair. There is simply no time.

And then I show up at the wrong place, with Brigit in tow for support, because apparently I haven't done enough to sabotage this date. Yes. I bring a friend for moral support/protection/because I'm a child. Right. So,  I'm sitting outside of the coffee shop that I think I blurrily remember us agreeing upon the night before and I text that I'm outside after sitting there for like ten minutes. Because I was only eight minutes late, which was a major feat and I don't want to look later than I already was. He replies "No, you're not." And then asks me if I went to the wrong place, which I quickly realize I have done. He tells me to stay put and moments later he and his adorable dog come walking toward me.

And oh my god, does he look good.

Beyond mortified, you guys. Beyond. To infinity and beyond. I want to die. But instead I stick around and talk to him and we decide to go for a walk by the river...

I'll finish this little dandy later.

1 comment:

  1. I love this I love this I love this so much.