I met a boy. A real boy. Not a 40:60 boy. Although by the end of the conversation I was thinking 60:40. But that's besides the point.
Saturday night was very much like Friday night. In the beginning. I was alone. In my sweats. But then Lacey came home and put on her sweats and I was not alone. So here we are together, not alone on a Saturday night, in our sweats, in our apartment, in the big city, in the COOL part of the big city, sitting on the couch watching Season 1 of the Office. Now, you may be thinking, why Season 1? Isn't it the worst of all the seasons? And yes, would be the answer to that question. But, in our attempts to bond after an 11 year separation forced upon us by unforeseen circumstances like all the states between california and minnesota, we decided to throw a party. A "the Office" themed party. I called Dwight. So, to answer my original question, we are watching Season 1 of the Office for Research. Obviously. And Necessary.
However, we reach a point between Diversity & Basketball that we decide, perhaps, on my first Saturday in the big city we should at least go out. Simply to say we moved outside of the apartment on this fine subzero degreed night. So. We change out of our comfortable warm sweats put on some leg warmers & multi-colored sequenced shoes (that was actually just me) and we journey outside, down Bryant, take the first left, pass the Coffee shop that is the best one I've been to thus far but not what I'm looking for in a hangout, take a left on Lyndale and we arrive. At the RED DRAGON. Famous for its "Wonderous Punch" a fishbowl drink that is 95% alcohol. Possibly 97%.
We walk in, grab a booth and we each order one. Obvi. Then what happened that isn't so obvi, a boy sits down. At a table diagonal from me. Well, a few do, but really only the one matters. I smile. He smiles. Lacey laughs at me mockingly. We move on, because, well, only in someone else's life do I have the balls to do anything about the cute guy in the booth diagonal from me (perhaps a future new years resolution possibility). And only in some 5'10", 112lb blonde's life is he motivated enough to move from the comfort of his booth. So, Lacey whips out her new planner (see, we're the same, I'm telling you) and we begin planning our The Office party. Official Facebook invite pending.
Halfway thru my WP I inevitably have to go to the bathroom. Because I have a bladder smaller than an 87 year old cancer patient. Upon my return Lacey winks, gets up and with a smirk says "good luck."
Uh. Ok. She got drunk & crazy faster than usual. Except. Before she rounds the corner, he stands, and before I can tell it not to, my face turns a deep shade of red and he sits. In my booth. WITH ME. Well, across from me. But WITH ME. In accordance with Tid Bit #1, I stop drinking. Total usage of remaining brain cells is absolutely necessary. He introduces himself, we'll call him, Spatrick, I return the introduction. My face starts to return to a slightly normal, though still noticeably rosey complexion. I've always hated my face. And it's tendency to blush. What a waste of blood supply. How will I ever make it in the CIA if I can't stop myself from blushing when a cute boy talks to me, that's all Jennifer Gardner ever did in ALIAS.
Long story longer than the short story - We talk. He has his own business doing something. We both love TV on DVD. I do theatre. He does not read. And the fun surprise weekend job, he works at a gay bar, named Tickles (hence the 60:40). So, ok, maybe the boy isn't going to a Mensa meeting anytime soon, maybe he couldn't beat out a 6th grader in a spelling bee, but the boy is c-u-t-e. Possibly even hot depending what his tattoos actually look like. He has 3. He & his friends are moving on to a different bar that I don't know & that is not within walking distance at midnight. Being absolutely awesome Lacey says she'll go with me if I want, but me, being me doesn't really want to put that much effort into a first meeting (no matter how c-u-t-e he is) preferring of course to convince myself this lack of effort is actually beneficial because it helps in creating an allure of mystery & desire...having already inputted his name & number into my phone we depart saying we'll call them in a bit letting them know our plan after meeting up with John. Having no actual intention of doing this Lacey walks to John's and I walk home. After the perfectly allotted 37 minutes has passed between then & our departure from the RED DRAGON I look up his number to give him a call letting him know our decision not to come back out but to console him with the fact that the future holds a plethora of opportunities. I go to contacts, I find Spatrick's name and click the green phone. Nothing happens. I try again. Nothing. Ok... I think to myself, knowing my phone is generally temperamental & perhaps it's just that time of the month, I go check out his contact information and what do I discover? There is no phone number.
...
Spatrick put in his full name but somehow did not manage to put in his number. Now, you may be thinking, Rachel, honey, perhaps this was his way of blowing you off without totally embarrassing you. But this is what I say to each and everyone of you. NO. And you'll just have to trust me and/or Lacey of this fact.
Shortest story - Spatrick had managed to not save his number in my phone. And what do I do after discovering this fact? Laugh. Duh. Because my life is a sitcom. Some of you understand this better than others, because often times you are there. Laughing. Now I just need a coffee shop here where I can go and mock my daily life. And also friends here to do this with. Instead, I ended up alone, in my sweats, Saturday night, watching the Office Season 3.
Well. I wasn't totally alone.
Harlequin was there.
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