It Ain't You, Babe

I asked for her number, though I knew full well that I would never actually call her. It seemed like a good idea at the time, the next logical step, though actually it was a useless gesture. I think I asked for the number for the only reason that it was probably good practice for me, for when I actually find someone worth spending time with...

I mean, I got the vibe that there was very little interest on her part, and as for my side of the story, I'll admit the whole night before seemed very awkward.

...

So imagine my surprise when I received a text message later that week, at roughly 1:45 in the AM.

I'm no stranger to late night drunken texts. In my experience they pretty much point to one inevitable conclusion, that one is looking for a booty call of some kind. Though that wasn't the subject matter of the text, which extended to include several more texts that night, it did get me to thinking... thinking that I was going to ask this person to go out, on a date, of some sort, drinks...

In the back of my head I knew I shouldn't have done asked her out, but I figured, why not? I need a diversion, some fun, and perhaps this might lead somewhere... There was an inkling of hope stirring somewhere in my head, and I should have stopped it, a bud to nip.

But really I wasn't thinking that at all.

Why is it whenever someone shows the slightest bit of interest in me, that I suddenly find myself like fifty times more interested in them?

So we decided on drinks for the following day, something I considered a "date," i.e. two strangers agreeing to meet in some public place for the purpose of conversing and possibly arranging some kind of sexual contract (or relationship) for the future, assuming the "date" goes well and leads to another "date."

The next day would prove to be one of thee worst "dates" I've ever been on.

...

We met at the pub for some drinks. She was sitting with two other ladies, one of which looked awfully familiar to me, though I couldn't quite place the face. After the awkward introductions, it became quite apparent who the familiar girl was, especially when she asked, "Don't you know SS?" SS being my ex-fiance, and this girl being one of her close friends. The date girl then turns to me and says she knows her family, and I replied, "that's nice..." My jaw should have dropped just then, but I decided it was better to drink the beer in front of me as fast as possible. So instead my inner-jaw dropped, and I almost started to devise escape plans, which I should have done considering how the rest of the evening was to pan out.

After I paid for our beers (she was/is broke until next month), we decided to drive around and listen to her favorite musician, very reminiscent of the night we met, though this time we were far more sober. Then to her place for some wine, and more music, her favorite musician, and a long conversation concerning the ex, Christianity and her celibate, Jesus-loving lifestyle, and her favorite musician. Not my favorite subjects, but there were good thoughts being passed back and forth, even though it became quite clear that this was not a date at all, just two friends chilling and talking, at least according to her...

I figured it out, and thought, well, ok, at least I'm out and about and in an socially awkward situation, out of my shell and conversing with a member of the opposite sex. Though I did feel a little lead on, I figured I would just play it cool and enjoy this persons company.

...

After the wine was gone, we drove to a house party, where I found myself sitting on a couch watching a drunken ping-pong match, alone, as the girl decided to engage herself in conversation with two separate dudes. It was then I realized what a great flirt this girl was. She got mad skills, and I could see the looks on the guys faces as they fell for it, just like I did. Maybe they wondered who the weird dude was that walked in with her, but usually most guys tend to focus on the girl in front of them, just as they did.

I started to question it all then, in between cans of PBR and the two joints being passed around, what was I still doing there? I could have left at any time. But some sick part of me wanted to see it through to the very end. That and there was free beer in front of me, and I figured that would be enough for now.

We then left the party and headed to the The Bar for another beer, the scene of the crime, our original meeting. There she informed me one of her former make-out partners was there, and decided to talk with him for most of the evening. Which was fine by me, because an old friend happened to be there, in town for a visit, and I got to catch up with her.

As it came time to leave, she mentioned that she would be giving the other dude a ride home, which I figured was cool. She then suggested we go back to her place, the three of us, to hang out and drink more, and for some reason I suggested I pick up the sparse amount of booze that I have chilling on top of the fridge.

We arrived at my place, and I grabbed the booze, and made a pit stop, and walked back out to the car. I opened the door and suddenly became fifteen years old again. There dude was, suddenly in the front seat making out furiously with girl, and again my jaw dropped. I grabbed my bag as they both laughed hysterically, and I said "goodnight" and walked away.

Even though I knew the pretenses of the situation, knew it was "not a date," knew this girl was total trouble, I fell for it anyway, and I kicked myself for that little glimmer of hope I had, before the evening even began.

I considered it the worst date ever, that is, until I spoke with roommate about it, and she gave me some perspective.

Even if it was a date, or wasn't, this girl was just out for fun, being young and drunk and flirting and fucking around. That's what she wanted. Perhaps I had different expectations. Either way, it was a successful date, quite successful. Realizing that it never would have worked out right from the get-go. So much time was not wasted. That it was a good experience, helping me to get my crazy radar fine-tuned, getting experience in knowing what to not look for.

Part of me is still a little miffed. At least I didn't go nuts and break stuff like my old roommate. Instead I drifted off to sleep, listening to a wonderful album.

...

Oh, crap-tacular world of dating. Perhaps I'm not ready to get involved with this stuff again.

At least it makes for a good story.