Today, for you, a guest post. Don’t worry, it’s not like that last guest post that makes me vomit and has since been deleted. We have a new screening process here at Velvet in Dupont and not just anyone can post here. Brain scans, tests for sanity, psychiatric evaluations must be completed. So. The following date story is from my friend, named She-ra because of this story, who endured this evening so she could provide some entertainment to my otherwise snoozeworthy, coma-inducing, dateless, dating blog. Take it away She-ra.
Another night in the life of a typical DC woman…
All right, I know, I know…I partly had it coming to me but here’s the data I was working with: Endless nights doing the bar scene, and nothing lasting to make of it…2 rounds on Craigslist, both of which yielding a few months worth of dating just one of the inane amount of repliers…each with whom I now have developed friendships. So I was giving it another whirl…and this is the story of last night.
It all started with a post a while back. A very forthcoming post..stating my general intentions and my general preferences. Embedded was indication of my deal breakers as well. As always 95% of the responders didn’t take me too seriously when reading the few deal breakers and sent me a little note despite them having one, more or all of the deal breaking qualities. The other 5% seemed genuine and reasonable…and I proceeded with the typical repartee with them. One responder in particular wrote a note indicating that he wasn’t writing in response to my solicitation, but more to ask me if I really thought that this outlet for dating increased my odds of finding someone, or if it just bombards my inbox and wastes my time as I sift through the rubble. I referenced my data and told him that I just like to keep my eyes open to all available resources.
Let’s name this bloke, shall we? Let’s call him He-Man (rationale to come later.)
Within a day or so of banter, He-Man told me he was meeting some friends at a bar that happens to be quite local to me. I considered heading that way just to check things out, but got distracted and didn’t make it. We continued the jousting of words for the next week or so…emails, IM, text messages, the routine.
So yesterday he sends me an email inviting me to a show. After reconciling that I would have to show up late because of previously made plans, and getting this reply: “You have my freaking phone number” when I was asking how I’d find him (trying to get some indication of what he looked like since that hadn’t been discussed at all…to which he obviously didn’t bite.) And then getting this one: “Come when you want. Get the ticket from will call…you don’t even have to find me inside if you don’t want to” followed by him iterating with “like I said, find me or not…use the ticket” well, I was a little intrigued by the seemingly odd tone. Despite Velvet telling me, “Damn. He is a dick, isn’t he? Ugh. I would burn that ticket. But that’s just me,” I was gonna give it a shot anyway. I like shows, dick or no dick, I’d probably have fun.
So to the bar I go. Upon arrival I text message, “Here.” Enters to the scene: 6’3″ blonde if at all misshapen could be construed as a mullet-esque ‘do, muscle man (now get the He-Man reference?) as he meets me at the door to give me the ticket. I go in, off we go to the bar…beers are served, less than 3 minutes pass, the conversation nose-dives into his ex’s current boyfriend. How she met him online; how He-Man tapped into new boy’s email account and found emails about threesomes, open to “safe or raw,” 300/day solicitations for swingers clubs, oh and how he continued to respond to online posts (even one written by He-Man himself) well after he and ex-girl were dating. I know this girl and this playa’ extensively after the animated, heated, impassioned, descriptive, endless tirade about how heinous he is and how she can do much better. On and on it went. Oh and I’m told that she’s 25 and naively forgiving of playa’s indiscretions, after which I’m also informed that He-Man isn’t 28 like he originally declared on email, but instead is actually 36. No biggy, just an interesting tidbit.
As the conversation is Oh My God there is a winding down, I’m privy to He-Man’s confession that he thinks the notorious (as after ths long of hearing about it, they indeed are notorious to me) couple could be coming to the same show. Given information, it’s no wonder that He-Man continued to 180 his head to stalk the door for their grand entrance. He-Man continues to buy beers that I’m sucking down at 1/5th the spped…so my beers are stacking up…but they are mine (according to him) and to be consumed by only me. Ha ha. I continued to take my time.
First band…retarded. almost excruciating to sit through. Therefore, I’m left with little to distract me until the headliner comes on…meanwhile, the door is fascinating to him. Later, several times, He-Man makes it a point to insert into the conversation that “we will never be anything, but it’ll be cool just to hang out.” I find this humorous, because although I’m feeling the same thing, I’ve never heard someone just throw that out there…and never could imagine saying it with such inappropriate and random timing. It almost seemed like he was doing the preemptive breakup thing. At this point, I’m just getting a kick out of the whole scene. Muscle man whining over a beer about his ex-girlfriend while beating his He-Man chest putting the present chick in her place. I’m in a good mood, so I’m just taking in teh odd moment with intrigue and fascination.
The headliner hits the stage. He-Man’s digging the music. he’s pulling me into him to dance to his beat. He’s getting more touchy feely. The door is out of site. I’m in my own world as I tend to be at shows, just enjoying the music and not caring about much else. He-Man’s moved by the music, hugs me several times, lifts me from the floor with his He-Man muscle-clad arms. This goes on throughout the show, band comes out for an encore, the crowd goes wild, He-Man’s loving it. The band wraps it up and He-Man’s needing a snack. He’s a big boy, needs food. I’m game, we head down the street for a snack, random chat with other concert stragglers. Conversation is somewhat forced, but again I get notified that “nothing will ever come of us” as if that was the topic, and as if I had asked. Oh and as if he didn’t kiss my neck 4 minutes beforehand as we waited to order the snack.
He-Man belly satisfied, we’re off for our separate homes. He-Man’s chivalrous, so won’t let me walk the 3 blocks to my house alone. He-Man’s also lazy, so doesn’t want to walk it either. I’m fortunate because I don’t want He-Man escorting me to my door without some witness. I know more about his ex’s boyfriend than him, so how am I to know that he can be trusted? Taxi! Three blocks later, I exit. He-Man gets out of the car, gives a He-Man hug. I head to the door, He-Man takes off in a cab. I’m not through the door before I start laughing out loud.
Jump to the morning…3 He-Man text messages that arrived after I was fast asleep, another two this morning. None said “Nothing will ever come of us” but I haven’t checked my phone in a while so that little FYI might just be waiting to destroy my fragile heart. *Sigh.*