So...The Dragon may not be the most appropriate name
(You're a lizard...)
Yeah...I immediately thought I broke my Good First Date streak. Don't get me wrong. He was incredibly nice. Is incredibly nice. But I didn't get the impression that he could really hang out and keep up. The most hilarious part? That is his whole bit on his profile: he apparently has a zest for life like I do, is a positive person, and is looking for someone to keep up with him.
Okay, well...to be fair. It technically wasn't a first date. It was more of a meet-and-greet.
You heard me. A meet-and-greet. He recently moved into a home, and had a housewarming party. Well, guess who I met. Yup...a party.
At a dance club.
On a Saturday night.
(Honey, this club is for the cool kids who try too hard)
You can tell I was thrilled already. But I will leave it to nerves. I was kind of stuck with his friends while he got me a drink. They all avoided eye contact with me, so I just stood there swaying to some music while they bonded. Normally, I can adapt in these situations. But I felt like I was at a zoo, being monitored. It wasn't just his friends, but the entire club.
This is the place to be on a Saturday night. All the cool kids who happened to hear about my neighborhood make pilgrimage here till the wee hours of the morning. My crowd hangs in dark, smoky bars; I was face-to-shoulder with frat boys and girls who can't hold their liquor (literally and internally). Bright lights kept flashing, and the brick wall showed random "avante garde" film clips. Because really, who doesn't like to see 1950's mock PSAs about the danger of driving?
He finally showed up with my drink. There is nothing worse that being in a crowded club, music blasting, and not relating to anyone around you. He smiled and asked if I wanted to dance.
Why the hell not? I at least get a drink out of it...
He is adorkable. Yes, he is still very good-looking, slim build, and had a genuine gaze. They weren't the kind of hungry eyes that were peeling away the layers I wore; they wanted to peel away to see what kind of girl agrees to meet him and his friends at the most crowded club in town for something resembling a date. We did the awkward elbow dance to find room, had a girl spill my drink with her clumsy dancing, and awkwardly laughed the whole time. I think he felt bad. I know I did. But being the good Girl Scout, I made the best out of the situation.
Here's where it gets really funny. I have a friend (and fellow reader) who has a history of bad dates. And it's always entertaining to hear. She happens to frequent this club, and I saw her while I was doing the "make room" dance. She pulled me close and said she was on a bad date and was feeling really buzzed.
...please don't let this be an omen, I thought.
After I wished her luck (and introduced her to The Dragon), we parted with his friends, and somehow found a bar area in the back where we could actually talk without screaming at each other.
I was sweaty, and smelled like warm, sweet cider. I know it sounds like the beginnings of a bad Skinemax flick, but really it was simply gross. Both with a heavy, awkward sigh, we finally started to talk. He asked how I know about the Tail of the Dragon. I could have made an elaborate story about how I love riding on a motorcycle. But no. I told him I knew about it from my ex. As if it wasn't awkward enough, I start our first non-screaming conversation about my jerk ex. But...then again, he didn't know he was a jerk.
And then my ethnicity. Surprisingly this doesn't come up a lot in dates. I told him Filipino, and asked me to guess his. To be 100% honest I couldn't figure it out. He's half Puerto Rican and half Irish. Damn that's kinda hot. He also said he's a cop, which means he wears a uniform, which automatically means he's hot. Right? Girl logic is ridiculous sometimes.
We joked around for a bit, people-watching fools as we finished our lukewarm drinks. At best, he was adorable and fairly geeky. It wasn't that same explosion I felt with the last few dates. But the more we talked and laughed, I started to warm up to him. Finally, one of his friends came to the bar saying that they wanted to leave. The Dragon was their pilot apparently. I smiled awkwardly at his friend as he made his way up to round the group. The Dragon ask if I wanted to ride on his bike sometime. I gave him a very diplomatic answer: that sounds like fun.
...he meant the next day.
Oh? I should be elated, but I was more or less stunned. I wasn't 100% feeling him, but...free drink? Free bike ride? These are fun things that I like.
So I agreed. Elbowing our way through the front of the bar, we finally found the door, and all the fresh air hit us like a brick wall. I could finally breathe. If it wasn't enough that this place was somewhere I would never go in, the awkwardness of meeting a guy face-to-face after chatting online along with his friends was plenty to stifle me on a Saturday night.
After I thanked him for the drink, we hugged. We would figure out the next-day details later. As I started to walk towards my house, I heard a small group go WOOOOOO!!!!!!!
....later I found out that was meant for him after talking to me.
After walking my dog, I checked my phone. He sent a text asking if the walk home was safe. It really did make me smile. It was a very kind gesture. I get to the point living in the neighborhood that I do, that I'm street savvy. I don't feel invincible, but mostly aware of my surroundings, and how to be prepared (hello, keys intermingled in my fingers?). I told him I did and thanked him for making sure I made it home.
Then we chatted via text for another hour.
This guy was worth another chance. And I'm glad I took the time to meet him in a less crowded, and kinder environment than I did the night before.
I often say that I liken people to experiences from which I need to learn. He may be on his way to teach me a worthwhile lesson about myself.
Quivering with anticipation (or hormones), I woke up the other morning, bleary-eyed but excited about my date with The Adventurer (TA) that night.
I remembered I could be an attractive girl, and put on a grey dress that hugged my curves. It had 3/4-sleeves, and hit above my knees. As always, I paired that dress with black boots with a blue zipper in the back of them. This is my uniform: a dress always paired with boots. This was also what I avoided on my first date with TA. In a way I'm glad because he had those damn hungry eyes. He could wait for that, I thought. So I broke the norm, and put on some make-up and did my hair before walking out to greet the day.
As I got into work, my boss sensed something different. Usually I'm wearing work pants, a blouse (fine, a flannel shirt), and boots. "What's going on? Look at you! You look great!" he exclaimed, with that mint julep Southern drawl.
Eyebrows raised he said allright then, and stopped prying. Before anyone blows any whistles out there, my boss is awesome; the right mix of fatherly figure, motivator, and jokester. This conversation could have happened with anyone.
Anyway...
I continued to slave at my desk, wandered to different departments, not hearing a word about where I was going tonight. The damsel in me figured he's the man who asked me out in the first place. I'll let him make the plans. It's strange to say it since I do take pride in holding my own and taking care of myself, which brings me to Queen B and her girls:
Finally the text I was waiting for all day: he remembered (good job) my favorite restaurant and he wanted to go because he had never tried it. I said I'd meet him there.
Later on, I walked towards this place that with the best of intentions, but apprehensive about my needs. Not those needs but...you know? NEEDS.
By no stretch of the imagination am I a prude, but I'm definitely not a girl who hits it and quits. But it had been awhile. I carried a hip-rolling strut with my stride. Maybe, if it did happen, it would be okay....
Once I opened the door to the restaurant, I was greeted with a smile and those eyes. They wandered up my figure happily before our hostess led us to the table.
This restaurant is my favorite for many reasons: the large windows made for people watching, the live music (which happened to be going on that night), and of course the food. We barely browsed the menu before he decided to surprise me again. I told him I usually get The Zen of Zin wine. I figured he knew of it from his past job as a liquor salesman.
"Want to just get a bottle?"
A bottle? Most guys just buy you a singular drink with dinner, right? Then again, I don't know much about going out on dates. Since he was in, I was in. The scenery was completely forgettable for me. What sticks out for me is just how much we talked and laughed...the way his elbows rested on the table, hands clasped just gazing at me with those blue eyes. The way I could never figure out if I should part my hair one way or the other, but settling on twirling and behind my ears instead. By the time I came out of my environmental euphoria, there was a bottle of wine down, half the patrons paid out, and the acoustic stylings of overdone covers muted.
"Do you want to go on an adventure tonight?"
The Zen was speaking, and I was its mouthpiece. Eyebrows raised, he stammered to get out an answer. I suggested there's a place we can sing karaoke, and we can get free shots each time we sing.
Like a politician answering the hard-hitting questions, he said it's a go. We still had time before the club opened its doors, so we walked up to the bar for a beer.
Damn. Here we go again. I reached into the crevices of my college-aged mind: is it liquor before beer you're in the clear? I've mixed before...and I walked here. I'm perfectly fine. The Zen said so.
I ordered first while he browsed the beer menu. When he asked what I ordered, he said he was getting the same thing. It's like that moment when you find out you have something it common. It's that warm coating that surrounds your childlike heart before it rushes to your face, forcing an uncontrollable smile. That is how everything has felt with him. It was easy for me to be, well, me: fire-spinning, sailor-mouth, smartass-yet-demure me.
There's a catch here too, by the way.
My friends are obviously my army. When I have a date with a new, I tell them where I am. Florida prides itself on hurricane preparedness. This is no different. I told my friends that I was bringing him to karaoke, and thought he'd like them and would fit into our circle.
Recall that warm coating around the heart? The same feeling applies to knowing, really knowing, that I could bring him around my friends, and it wouldn't be weird. It wouldn't be him checking his phone while our crew gets into inside jokes. It wouldn't be constant apologies for their behavior. Jax Single Girl has discovered another need: If you wanna be lover, you gotta get with my friends.
We made our way outside and he offered to drive. That and I would be a good co-pilot since he had never been to this place before. As I started to give him directions at the red light, he reached for my hand. TA just goes for it. And he gazed at me, starry-eyed and happy to go on an adventure.
This club is where the theater kids go to let loose and sing their happy hearts out. It's also where the BDSM set go for a good gothic time, and where my fire troupe often performs. I greeted the bartender by first name, which surprised TA. Yes, cupcake...I apparently know all the bartenders in town. So we ordered our first round, and I started to flip through the song lists.
"By the way, you have to sing since I brought you here."
This time the beer decided to be my ventriloquist. He started to laugh and agreed. I chose a song and walked it up to the DJ, leaving TA unattended. It bothered him that I wouldn't tell him what song I chose, in a fun way of course. And he remembered that I usually sing No Doubt. He rattled off a few songs, but he couldn't get what I chose right. It seemed to fit my mood, so I chose Bathwater.
A couple of songs before I got onto the stage, my comedian friend entered the bar. Their conversations flowed naturally, which made me very happy. Everything was just perfect. TA left for a moment, and my friend looked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't within earshot.
"He's dreamy!"
Thanks, pal. I think so. I should also point out this is Glitterbeard's brother. He's also one of two of my amazing army that showed up. My blue-haired siren joined us later, enjoying the show with us.
So I sang to my heart's content, and he loved what he heard from me. His set followed mine, and apparently we were going the distance. I wasn't sure if I could handle anymore innuendo that night, which is saying a lot considering the company I keep. My bartender had already poured his free shot, and I was courteous to wait till he was done with his set before I took my own. With a sigh of relief that he was done singing, I congratulated him on his performance (...speaking of innuendo), and he cheered to a night of adventurous fun. There's that warm coating on my heart again...
But we were stuck together by hands touching, my knees against his, and his other arm around my shoulder, letting it graze my back from time to time.
The night was approaching early morning, so we decided to pay up and leave after my second song. TA said he didn't remember starting a tab. My independent streak was showing, and I told him I left my card at the bar. The next thing I know, TA is walking up there, handing me back my card, and paying for our tab. This guy...I must remember to thank him again.
We made our way back to my place, and he parked in my driveway. I thanked him for another awesome night. With willing eyes and smiles on our faces, we met with a kiss. Wow, he's a good kisser. We're still kissing...did the seat just lean back?
Needless to say, he was allowed inside my house that night. A lady should never say too much, but I will say that he was an attentive lover. It was intense. Clearly, we were both thinking about this since we first met. I guess that's part of the explanation for chemistry, and the way it works with two people.
After all was said and done, he told me he couldn't believe he met me. We kissed good night and I sent him home.
I can't believe I almost didn't give you a chance. I internally apologized for ever referring to him as Beer Man.
I had to hide my grin the next day. It was permanently tattooed on my face. One lost wallet, another (pious) visit to my home, and another kiss later, he is coming to my next fire show.
I like this adventure. I like it a lot. Yes, it's obvious I engage in risky behavior, but matters of the heart are risky too.
Letting the warmth fill the holes in my heart, and harden it sounds like a greater risk than bringing a guy on the second date home. Like every adventure I've had, it was totally worth it.
More than just a conquest, he is definitely worth it.
One thing that I'm learning in this new adventure: Talking to two men at the same time is painfully difficult. It's a fun challenge, but I have to treat this like I'm studying for a final. For the last couple of days, I checked Indy and Beer Man's profiles, reviewed, and made sure to commit certain parts of their profiles to memory so I don't goof up in any of our conversations.
Because how embarrassing would it be to bring up Beer Man's time in Brazil? Oh that's not right...my bad. And honestly it feels like cheating. I do not like cheaters. In many ways I'm an extremely non-judgmental person. But once I discover someone is a cheater, it leaves a certain distaste in my mouth. Yes, I understand that people change, but it's like a stain on their foreheads sometimes.
All of that aside, I have to go with the assumption in these men's profiles that they are indeed single and unattached. Can we get a Single Ladies reference in here?
That's better.
Alas, before my date with Beer Man the other night, I was getting dolled up after a long conversation with Indy. I was pretty over the moon about talking to him, but had minimal expectations for Beer Man. Obviously, I gave him a horrible nickname.
My survival instincts were on high alert. I let my friends know where I was. My emergency text was at the ready. I stayed close to home. I kept my appearance realistic and low on sex appeal. I knew how to hold my keys intertwined in my fingers in case I needed to be defensive.
Jax Single Girl was more prepared than an Eagle Scout.
So I walked out of my door late at night, and headed toward the bar that we were supposed to meet. This is one dating rule I broke. I understand it's pretty normal to meet at a bar on the first date. However, I like to keep my mind alert and ready when meeting someone new. After texting him what I was wearing I met eyes with him, smiled, and said hello as we walked into the bar.
This is the kind of bar the cool kids talk about. And by cool kids, I mean hipsters. Black-rimmed glasses, flannel, men-in-girl-pant hipsters. There is a bathtub in the bar when you first walk in, and most drinks are served in mason jars, a subtle ironic failure and jab against the redneck heart of Jacksonville.
He looked better than his pictures. Don't get me wrong here. Looks aren't everything, but when you're dating someone based on an online profile, they better be presentable. Beer Man is a tall brunette with a baby face.
Somehow the conversation came easily. I know I've said that about other dates, but it was different this time. I jumped right in as if I was talking to my best of friends. When you are with your true friends, you don't hold back who you are. There is no surface to scratch. I'm pretty positive I said one or two four-letter words in my first few sentences to Beer Man. Luckily he didn't mind.
It also turned out that one of my best friends from high school happened to be there with her husband. I ran up to her right after we ordered our drinks, and gave her a hug. She awkwardly pulled back and with her inquisitive face started to ask if I was on a date. Through clenched teeth and a forced smile I told her that this was a first date and that we had just walked in. She locked her eyes to mine as if to say "Good luck and vaya con dios." She later told me that I looked happy, which was good to know.
I don't know if it was because I wanted to force the time to go faster in case this was a bust, or if I had a brief moment of bravado, but I started to ask the standard first date questions about himself one right after the other: where do you work, do you like it, where did you go to school, do you like this bar, etc.
I think I'll blame the supermoon for the fastidious speed dating interview I gave him...
But he ran with it, and it seemed to work well. As we were keeping the conversation flowing, we noticed the bar patrons next to us laughing as the sound of metal was dinging against the bar shelves. There is a ring toss game where you take rings of mason jars, throw them at the shelves, and if you get a ring around the bottle of liquor, you get a free shot of it.
Here's how I knew he was an adventurer much like me. (Ed. Note: change his nickname from Beer Man to The Adventurer...not to be confused with Indy). With a charming, mischievous smile, he proclaimed that we should do it. Before I could complain about my short stature and T-Rex arms, he was already asking the bartender for the rings. We both failed miserably, but were laughing the entire time. After the round of Redneck Ring Toss, we started to talk about if we'd be happy with the shots we could have won.
I explained I was a whiskey girl, and told him about Fireball: a cinnamon cup of goodness. He explained that he used to be a liquor salesman and tried that, and is also a fan of red wine. That was one of many things we had in common, I would find out. I told him that my drink of choice lately was a Fireball shot dropped in a glass of cider. His eyes got big and another tight-lipped smile grew on his face.
"The night is young. I don't have anything to do and I imagine you don't either. Let's go to your bar and try some Fireball with cider there."
Is this what it's like to date me?
CSB was an adventurer too, but I was just along for the ride. There was a sense of confidence with The Adventurer that he could be trusted with my sense of risk and abandonment...at least for that night. Like a willing Bonnie to his Clyde, I said it sounded like a good idea. His charisma and machismo weren't offensive. It truly came off as genuine confidence.
So we walked the busy streets a few blocks down to "my bar." That's how quickly conversation flowed. I told him that my usual bar is a hole-in-the-wall, dank, dirty, smoke-filled space. He seemed okay with that. I also had a sense of guilt because I wondered if it was bad that I "had" a bar. I didn't want to come off as a daily drunk, but at the same time I remembered what I told myself earlier: I'm here for fun. This is just a date.
I took him to the back entrance, which I playfully chimed was where the regulars go. We walked up to the bar, and I was greeted with my first name, followed by one of the bartenders yelling, with her emphysema-riddled voice "YA BACK AGAIN, HUH?!" I may or may not have been there twice earlier that week. I stuttered a laugh and sheepishly met eyes with The Adventurer. This was the first of many times this night where he had hungry eyes. Yes, Patrick Swayze-type, jump-in-my-arms-in-the-lake-Baby, Dirty Dancing hungry eyes. He likes this about me. And guilt again. I don't want to be that girl who he thinks he can always take to the bar, get drunk, and get lucky. In his defense, he was a total gentleman that night.
After explaining the Fireball concoction to another bartender, I took out my card to offer to pay. The Adventurer stopped me and said he'll get it. Promising, I thought. So I handed him his glass and asked if we should raise them for anything.
"Here's to an already awesome night!"
He was right. We locked eyes with sincere ear-to-ear grins.. I probably could have broken that glass out of sheer excitement. I really was having a blast.
We sat at a high-top, chatting about movies we liked and the music from the jukebox. We really had a lot in common. He then recalled in a message I sent that day that I loved this bar because of Big Buck Hunt. There is nothing more satisfying than releasing rage after a day of dealing with absolute nonsense and stress, and shooting Bambi's dad...and his little critter friends too. He got up, got some cash, and put money in the machine. It's very important that I emphasize that none of this was asked. He just did it. He left me with no choice but to completely own him at this game.
To me this was a bit of a test: I get mouthy and angry if I don't get all three bucks each game. Even as I was swearing and getting jumpy with this neon-orange rifle, he was amused and enjoying it. That was so telling because I kept thinking I was out with my closest friends. I wasn't hiding. I wasn't trying to be this demure vision on an online profile. I wasn't forcing intelligent conversation about philosophy and reason.
I was having a good time being myself around someone who was pretty damn fine with it. Bless it.
After that round, he asked if I wanted another drink. Playing it safe, I said a beer was fine. Again, I didn't want to get too drunk and lose all inhibition. He came back, and proceeded to put money in the bowling video game. I'm horrible at bowling in real life, so this was not going to be my name. He won fair and square. And laughed about how bad we did at Redneck Ring Toss. Clearly, we were finding our niche in both bar games and in the dating game.
As we made our way back to the bar, we sat facing each other. I had another Cher Horowitz moment as I did many moons ago. "Look at that body language. Legs crossed towards each other. That is an unequivocal sex invite!" It was approaching last call somehow, and there was a lot of space at the bar. But my knees touched his, and I didn't budge. He didn't either. As we finished another beer (he keeps surprising me with his ninja skills), he was listening me narrate a story of sorts. But those eyes...they're not the kind of eyes that you first notice when you look at someone who has nice eyes. But they were intense. He would lean on the bar, elbow bent, hand cupping his head, staring at me with those hungry eyes. I wasn't feeling uncomfortable, but like everything else about him, it kept surprising me.
When Emphysema Emily yelled last call, we peeled ourselves off the barstools and started to walk closer to our homes. I don't remember what we were talking about (another reason I'm hesitant to drink on a first date), but the next thing I know, he grabbed my hand and held it. Did he understand that quickly that hand holding is a big deal for me? I didn't mind. In fact, it was a nice gesture. Instead of protecting me from monsters under the bed, he was protecting me from surly bar patrons at an ungodly hour.
As we approached the bar I brazenly asked if he was going to walk me home or if it was time to say good-bye. It would be a gentlemanly thing to do, he explained, to walk a lady home.
In the sea of pubs and hipster bars, there is a gay bar on the corner. I heard an effeminate voice drunkenly scream my name. My eyes widened to see my darling queen in his glitterbearded glory reaching out for a "hey girl."
I hugged him and greeted him while his partner, also in drag, pulled me close and drunkenly told me he loved me and fawned over me for a few moments. All the while, The Adventurer standing by, amused with hands in his pockets.
"AY! WHO IS THAT MAN RIGHT THERE GIRL?!"
Sheepishly again, I told him I was on a date. My queen is a mama bear who looks out for me and anyone he loves. To my surprise, as he has been good at all night, he walked up to my darling glitterbeard and introduced himself. I could see in my periphery, Glitterbeard sizing him up. I didn't want to keep them from whatever after party they had, so I said that The Adventurer was walking me home.
"YEAH, WALK MY GIRL HOME AND TAKE CARE OF HER! LOOK AT THEM HOLDING HANDS BEING CUTE AND SHIT! GO ON, GIRL!"
Paraphrasing, but that's really the gist of it. This date, was an adventure for sure.
He walked me up to my doorstep, and I gave him a long, awkward drunken hug (fine two) goodbye.
As I lay in bed, reflecting on this crazy journey of juggling multiple men, I grinned. This could be a good thing. I have always been a risk taker, and that night wasn't any different. I'm glad I gave him a chance, booze and all.
My best friend laughed at me one recent morning and said in so many words, you are so gung ho with everything in your life, but why are you so cautious and weird when it comes to dating?"
I guess I must have had donut-glazed eyes and have been gliding around in a hazy disposition when she saw me. My heart is still a'flutter with the possibilities of my adventure with CSB. I find myself giggling when I usually have a boisterous, sea-parting laugh. I'm watching romantic French movies on my small 25-inch screen TV (reading subtitles is difficult on such a small screen!). I have been listening to songs that send lightning through my veins because I want to duplicate the way I feel whenever I'm with him (romantic heroin? Ugh, that sounds awful...).
Let's be real here: I haven't exactly taken the straightest path to dating enlightenment. And I do think about it often. What DOES make me so scared of plunging all-in for love? Anything new is scary, and that's exactly what this experience is. We haven't had "that talk" of what we are, but I have made it clear that I'm not some girl he can just hook up with and leave me on the side, which he responded well to on more than one occasion. Breakfast after sex is usually a good indicator of being in some semblance of a relationship, right? I like where this is going, so why force it?
This is why falling in love is so scary for me. Of course I understand there is always a risk in love. Yes, that little, one syllable four-letter word:
Love.
I've accepted that I have fallen in love with a man I barely know. How can my heart know that this is something good, but my brain is saying, slow your roll, homegirl? You're being foolish! Yet we can make love all night and go out to breakfast in the morning and continue to enjoy learning about each other. Do you understand how awesome that is? And because that's awesome, I'm afraid something as silly as my insecurity about this situation will ruin it. Does that make sense? Because I have to ask myself too if I'm in love with an idea I'm afraid of losing...
And he has this creepy Tom Cruise "I'm in love with Katie Holmes" crazy laugh. He smokes. But you know what? I don't care. I like him in spite of those things! We were at a club on a recent weekend and he was making me laugh with his adventurous spirit. It was crowded and when people would bump into him, he'd yell something absurd like WE'RE SWINGERS! I guess most girls would balk and run away, but I laughed! It was just so ridiculous. And we were outside talking to our friends and he was going to get a drink at the bar. I told him I'd stay out. He looked at me with his beautiful blue eyes and said, "come with me. It will be an adventure."
On another recent occasion, I received a text message from him. Here's how the conversation went:
Him: So your friend asked me about you tonight. Me: Ok. Who? Him: So and So's girlfriend Me: Oh ok! Well, what did you say? Him: That we're getting married next week. Best to thrive on awkwardness Me: Be still my beating heart. Since this is short notice, I'll pick catering...the hot dog cart. Our friend can officiate as well! Him: Haha! :)
Okay, I really, really may have met my match. And I don't want this to end. He is this intriguing individual. And when I think back on how this all started it's such a wonderful story that I don't want to end. From watching afar, doe-eyed and scared to make my presence known, to asking a magician to pull the right card from his stack. From late night text messages to midnight rendezvous into a whole new world. From late mornings under a down comforter to waking up with him and the adorable dog who chewed my shoes.
I know often times in my posts I say that I'm ready for something serious, something real, not something to pass the time. But I have to laugh at my naiveity. Because it wouldn't be the first time a story started out as a simple series of amusing events, something "not serious." Over time, these events can continue to play out as a series of misadventures which become incredibly mundane, or they can develop into greater adventures that collect and resonate with time, creating new and wonderful beginnings. So far, I can say that we've both kept up with each other. There's that fun little thing called The Chase, and it's been fun playing hide and go seek with a worthy opponent.
When I was younger, I always lived by the words, "labels are for cans," and as I've gotten older, I applied this phrase to relationships. As a result, I've gotten burnt. The boys would either take advantage of my carefree nature and completely forget I exist, or they would see it as an opportunity to let me know they're only here for a good time. I also suppose that is another reason for my fears. But the funny thing is that I was super cautious with OGM and my ex before him. I didn't dare think, let alone utter the word "love" when each one invaded my life. Then this man enters my world, full speed, without a warning label, and I'm in love. You can't help who you fall for or how hard you fall, I've learned.
What a good friend did tell me is that I can control the way I handle it. I kind of laughed, but it's worth trying. Being cautious has saved me from being totally hurt, but it has kept me from something I so believe I deserve. So long as he continues to show up unexpectedly to see me at work, text me nonsense at midnight, and hold my hand on our way to a bar excursion, I won't complain. I will relish falling in love. If I can free fall 10,000 feet from a rickety plane with a stranger on my back, I can fall headfirst and heart first into this crazy little adventure called love.
I may have met my goofy match. Maybe. At least it's fun for now. I still don't know where this is going, but if there's more of this, I really won't complain.
Let's face it: even if this never develops, I will forever have this story about me and Coffee Shop Boy. And it's a good story! And here's the thing about good stories: the more they're retold, the more legendary they get.
I was out on a Saturday night, celebrating a friend's birthday...after celebrating another friend's birthday earlier in the day. I assure you, I was extremely tired. So after a few drinks to celebrate another joyous year, I decided it was definitely time to go home. I left the bar and started to walk towards my car. I parked a around the corner from the coffee shop. It was a lovely brisk night, and decided to grab a cup of coffee to go. Needed to warm my body and wake up a bit. I literally reach into my left pocket of my red trench coat when all of a sudden, I felt a buzz.
Who in the world would text me at midnight? Could it be? It was! It was Coffee Shop Boy! I was quite surprised...and all of a sudden not so tired. He asked what I was doing. Oh nothing. Just busy not being tired in the off chance you want to see me. And guess what? He did! He rode his beautiful Triumph from the other side of town to spend some time together. My caramel mocha wasn't calming my nerves or warming me up fast enough. So there I sat, for 15 minutes, enjoying a warm cup filling in my friends on the news of the evening. A million puppies couldn't encourage anymore squees than this news. Good thing I looked cute that night. With the exception of my heel on my boot being broken (which he politely and supposedly didn't notice until I brought it up), I was wearing a red trench coat, a floral skirt, and a turtleneck. Also, I had great hair. Everything was truly coming up roses.
Then there he was, one headlight flashing at me as I sat outside. Like a movie, he removed my helmet and suggested we have a drink or two with him. I really couldn't say anything about that being a bold statement. I'm the one who made a magician give him my phone number, after all. A drink at midnight with a complete stranger? Why not? At that moment, I felt my old, Asian mother yelling in my ear...something about strangers, only bad things happening at midnight, and all. But for some reason, it was okay. I truly believed I wouldn't end up in a ditch somewhere being mistaken for a mannequin.
He didn't have another helmet (which made me sad) so I followed him to a bar I've never been to before. He was even kind enough to wait for me after he ran a yellow light. I drive a car full of German engineering. He seriously underestimates me. So we enter this club where house music is playing. So far so good. I feel kind of foolish though, looking more polished than usual while everyone looks comfortable in club gear. I don't usually look this put together. In fact, my lack of leather and studs made me feel slightly naked. He orders me a Jaeger and Red Bull (no, he didn't ask if I drank Jaeger). I was shocked at his choice, but decided to go with it. What did I have to lose? I drove myself there and could leave if it got terrible. And then the real talk began.
Me: So I didn't scare you by way of magic tricks?
CSB: I was really impressed! I was in a seriously bad mood that day. My ex came in the shop, which was weird, and it made it worse. Next thing I know Andy is walking up to me saying he had to show me a trick.And somehow I have a girl's number in my hand. I failed the online math quiz I was working on three times because I've thought about you all night!
Me: Wow. Well I kind of figured at best you'd be flattered. I was scared to go through with it!
CSB: I'm glad you did though. You're cute. I was looking for you, but you left.
I started laughing a little bit. I admitted I ran away just in case. I guess that added to my charm. But let's face it: most people would run away after simply thinking about being so bold to talk to a boy. I definitely needed to run away after going through with it! Now I'm the one who's flattered. More than anything, I was glad that he knew who I was after Andy mentioned a dark-haired girl who played with fire. Here's a tip: We're pretty much all brunettes.
We chatted over another drink. But it flowed naturally. And luckily for me, it was a cold night. He kept putting his hands on my face to warm them up. And eventually his nose on my neck. Have mercy...Oh, don't worry kids. I told him my boundaries. I called him out on being fresh. In fact, I think he might have liked it. He also introduced me to the bouncer who is also his friend. He was this short, troll-looking man with odd piercings and tattoos. Between magicians, fire friends, odd bouncers, and house music, I was feeling at home.
That night, I learned that CSB spent ten years in the Navy, did something involving ratios, is great at math (with the exception of the time I made him fail his math quiz), and has traveled all over the world, worked on planes in spite of having a fear of heights. He also owned two homes, and rents one of them out to some friends and is going to school for IT. What's that? Ten years? So how old is he? I'm 26...he's 33. So does age matter? Not when you're having fun! If he's not worrying about it, I won't either. After two drinks, he grabs my hand.
CSB: Let's go to Kickbacks.
This experience of being adventurous is very different on the other end. I'm usually the one prefacing every conversation with "I have an idea" or "Let's go on an adventure." This guy isn't prefacing anything. He's making me live it with him.
We showed up less than five minutes until the kitchen close and he randomly ordered us chili cheese fries. He unwrapped the silverware for me, and placed it neatly on my right side. Every now and then he would try to warm his nose. It was sweet. And throughout the night, I was glad I had great hair. He couldn't stop playing with it. Ladies, unless he's a creeper, you KNOW we love when men play with our hair. Every time I would pull it up, he'd pull out my hair tie. He said it looks much better down. Wow. How did we even get to this point, I wondered. So we chatted over some overly saturated fried food, and then it hit me:
It was almost 4 in the morning, and everything about this random date felt natural. He didn't try to get me in bed at this hour and I'd venture to say we both didn't want the evening to end. Still, he knew I was tired, grabbed my hand and helped me off a high-top stool. He lived around the corner from the late-night dinner, so we walked to his place where I parked my car. We hugged and said good night. He asked me to let him know when I got home. I couldn't stop smiling. I thanked him for everything. He took care of me that night...as much as one could be taken care of at midnight by taking a chance with a total stranger.
Once again, I proved to thine own self be true: I defied convention. Instead of thumbing through a catalog of random, uninteresting men online, meeting for drinks and forced conversation, I decided to take a huge risk and carve a dent into my destiny. Look, I don't know where this is going. But I like it anyway. Kerrie was right: trust your gut and you'll never fail.
Well, look at this...he still has my hair tie. And his nose is cold. I guess we're both fixing this problem very soon.
I have big hopes to hold on tight on a wintery evening.
