The Cat Came Back

Look what the cat dragged in... himself.

When I was little, I would sometimes watch, I believe it was, the Disney Channel. Or maybe it was Nickelodeon.  Doesn't matter.  There used to be a little cartoon short, it was about this old man who had a cat and would try various things to get rid of it (like tying it to a hot air balloon), but the cat would always always come back.  The theme song went like this: The cat came back the very next day, the cat came back, they thought he was a gonner, but the cat came back the very next day, the cat came back he just couldn't stay away.  Sometimes my love life feels like that. (oh, and they probably took that short off TV cause it was kind of sending abusive messages about how to get rid of a cat).

It has been a little while, of which I will be the first to confess the lack of "action" I have had this past week and a half.  All of the sudden, it seemed like all of the guys in my life were in some sort of transcendental bottleneck- all stuck in a position unobtainable to me.  And so it went.  And I was A-OK with this, because I figured, if I was unable to be alone with myself, then it would go to reason that I was in no shape to be in a relationship.  It was just to not be so.  

And so it went.  I was, well, not happy but satisfied with where I was, laughing at all of the guys stuck in the aforesaid "bottleneck" because I made the realization that most of them were just as trapped, at least emotionally, as I was.  To further illustrate this- My Ex keeps calling me.  As much as I enjoy his friendship and company, his presence can often hinder me from, well, what ever guy scenario should present itself.  And because I have been hanging out with friend-of-a-friend almost every other day now, that seems like it could be a problem.  But I thought- screw it!  I can hang out with Ex just as a friend.  After all, he is, since I have been in Seattle, the person I have most consistently and for the longest period of time been friends with now.  

I told him that I would go to The Shining with him and I also offered him to tag along with me to Bloc Party.  Yippee!  That should be enough for him, right?  Wrong.  At 3:00 in the afternoon he started calling me to hang out with him.  I respectfully declined, but reassured him that we would see the movie and get to hang out then.  As if this wasn't enough, he called me for dinner as well- to which I reminded him that I was busy (bold face lie) and I would see him at the movie.

I ended up going to Bauhaus with Wifey after our romantic dinner for two*cough cough* (oh, at which one of the servers gave us a complimentary dish courtesy another server).  And wouldn't you know who just happened to show up at Bauhaus whilst we were enjoying some sort of solemnity?  Ex.  For the simple reason, admitted on his part, that we were there and he didn't want to hang out with his other friend.  

*Side note: I had dinner with him the other day, to which he also readily admitted to blowing off his current girlfriend, who wanted to have dinner with him, so he could have dinner with me* 

While we three were at Bauhaus I receive a text message.  I found this rather perplexing considering the only people who ever really text me are, well, sitting at my table.  And wouldn't you know it, Friend-of-a-friend asking me what we are up to.  This is monumental.  He has never really text messaged me first.  I respond with our plans- Bauhaus now, drinks in a minute, then the movie.  He tells me he is with a friend and we should join them.  Fuck.  Part of what makes my dating life miserable, but sort of successful now (and I have accomplished this through mistakes in the past), is the fact that I avoid having two guys from my sorted dating affairs in the same place at the same time.  But I just could not pass up an opportunity to see Friend-of-a-friend though an hour or so earlier, I told Wifey that I was getting over him.  Ooooops.

We met up.  It was awkward because Ex was getting uncomofrtable and a bit hostile towards Friend-of-a-friend at times.  We ended up not going to the movie because Wifey was too afraid to go, I didn't want to be left alone with the Ex, and I didn't want to leave Friend-of-a-friend.  So we all stayed and drank- a very small amount, mind you.  

Wifey's car was back down at Bauhaus, which was a few blocks from where we were at.  We told FOAF we would give him a ride to his place, and wouldn't you know who just had to tag along?  Ex.  Godah Dam Mitt.  It didn't even make sense for him to get a ride from us because he had to walk further to Wifey's car then he would to walk to his own- which was in the opposite direction of where we were parked anyway.  And then, to make matters worse, he kept trying to get me to take a ride home with him.  I refused numerous times.  

And what happened next is probably the only real thing worth reading in this post.  

To start out, one of my major complaints with my "love"(ha) life is the complete paradox of it all: I can't seem to find anyone, and yet I can't seem to get rid of the ones that I have dated.  Which makes me think, how did I get those guys in the first place?  Why can't I get more?  Why does it seem as though I don't have any?  And then why wont they leave me be after we are through?  I mean, lets face it, even Speed Dumper, who "broke-up" with me via text message after we had only known each other for an hour or so took it back and wanted to "get back together and work things out".  I don't understand.  

This being stated- Wifey and I got back to my apartment.  I receive a text message from Ex.  He is talking about how he is glad we can still hang out, blah blah fucking blah.  I get bored with his text so I check my myspace in the mean time.  One new message.  Yippee!  Wait!  Hold on!  It is from the 19 year old!!!!  The message is simple and reads like this:

Subject: I...

Body: I miss you.

Ha!  How does this happen?  Why do they come back to me?  And again, how is it that I can't manage to get guys, but I can't get rid of them either?  Beats the fuck out of me.  I am left scratching my head on this one.  

One final note- 31 deleted me from his friends list on facebook.  I don't know why I took offense to this.  I was the one who ditched him, and yet I am slightly offended that he deleted me as a friend.  19 year old did this too, and look what happened- a month later he decides he misses me.  I have no clue what, or if, I am going to say in response to that.

Snippets

Not a lot has happened this past week, in the dating life of... well... myself.  So here are a few snippets.  

Act 1: Wednesday 

Enter New Character: Working Class

If you give a mouse a cookie he will ask for a glass of milk.  BUT... If you give a boy a car, he wont even ask for your phone number.

There are always a those few constants in your life- those that you have known for a while but have yet to make a move on, for what ever reason.  It is bad enough if they are past even the mere  point of no return, the dreaded "friend" trump card (as in, it becomes awkward if they are to the point where you might as well be an androgynous Barbie doll, with out the un-proportionately shapely figure- or worse yet a "sister figure").  But- it is even more disastrous if you have not reached that (being the friend) point for several months now and still both parties have yet to make any sort of move.  That is saying there is some sort of interest, but something (oh, say, a kid or a girlfriend/wife) slowing the progression towards a dating sort of get to know you.  That is the preceding scenario.

There is this gentlemen who I have known for about 5 months now on a very sporadic, causal basis.  We talk, but never hang out.  In order to ease some sort of boarder line friend potential tension, I decided to give this one particular individual a car.  Yes, a car.  No, not just any car- a cop car.  Here is the scoop- I was talking to, oh, lets call him for namesake, Working Class the previous week about cops and how much we both respected them, until they decided to pull out unwarranted attitude problems with us, to which our opinions of Washington's finest quickly evaporate.  We shared stories about such occasions in our lives.  In the past couple months or so that I have known Working Class, we have shared many tales and many times there have been flirtatious vibes and often times blatant comments to make me think that Working Class had some interest in me.  All of these realizations started to develop while we were talking about the po-lice and such.  

It was this particular conversation that looped my memory back to the toy cop car that I had laying on the floor of my Chevy Caviler.  Clever as I am, I decide that I am going to give this car to Working Class and, considering I see him on no regular basis, I was going to keep the toy in my purse and give it to him the next time our paths crossed.  It wasn't until about a week later that this event actually transpired.  And, much like I ran over a bajillion times in my head, I absent-mindedly remembered that I had "something for him".  I told him he could keep it on his desk at work or something- and then I took off to an "appointment", which was completely legitimate because I actually did have a hair appointment.  I was going to write about this, but I had hoped something would have came of it by now.  Unfortunately, it has (again) almost been a week, and I have yet to run into him again.  

Act 2: Friday

The corner can drop you off at the end of the world

I went out with just Wifey and Friend-of-a-Friend this day.  I think my feelings for Friend-of-a-Friend are waning- and maybe getting a little too comfortable, as I mentioned at the very start of this particular blog (and, of course, right as I type this sentence, who else should walk into the lovely Bauhaus then him.  Fuck my life).  I tried some flirty tactics on our evening out.  Example: we made a bet that I couldn't spit out an open window and hit a car.  I claim I did, he claims I didn't (but there is no way that one could miss that unless they were not looking...)  I guess there might just happen to be a few factors would lead him to not pay attention to where I was actually spitting: 1.) my proclamation that "I'm a spitter" and 2.) In order to spit, I was practically standing over him while he was seated.  Actually, there was no "practically" about it. '

I also ran into a Coffee Shop Boy that I have, if nothing else, a friend crush on.  We never really talked before, just exchanged either nervous glances or pleasant small, no... minuscule, talk.  So it was on this particular day, and this particular moment when he was outside of Cha Cha's that I loudly addressed him in this exact manner "Hey!  It's Coffee Shop Boy**, Hey Coffee Shop Boy**!" and then didn't even stop to talk beyond that point of order. 

Anyway, I decided that I was going to go home- instead of staying the night at my Wifey's- when our night ceased.  I had walked with Friend-of-a-Friend, as he two was on his way home (which happened to be in the same, yet general, direction as my car)- I was a little surprised, admittedly, when he didn't walk me to my car all the way, per se.  I think, if he really was interested in me, then he probably would have walked me the last block to my car- instead, we parted ways and that was that. 

Act 3: Saturday

It doesn't hurt to flirt... and I am sure that is what countless females have thought before being raped or murdered.  

I worked at a festival today.  I sat at a booth and promoted the non-profit I work for.  It was quite enjoyable.  At one booth, across the way from us, there was a gentlemen who kept looking over my way.  He wasn't my type and was probably a bit older than I would have preferred, but I returned the smiles.  It never hurts, right?  At any rate, he left his booth to come over and talk at least four times.  Other than that, he never really left his booth.  He was nice enough for me not to brush him off, but again, nothing that I was going to actively per sue at that moment.

Wifey and I were going to go out after I got back, but I realized sometime between the night before and that exact moment my license had been lost.  We looked and called and snooped between the lines, but to no avail.  I even thought I had a back-up at one point in time, but that fell through thanks to shotty Public Safety officers at Seattle University.

We went to Wall-E instead.  It was a great movie, but I cried a little when I realized that I would never find someone as good and as genuine as that robot, Wall-E.  And, to top the ice-cream cake with a cherry- effing animated robots can fall in love, and I- a non-fictitious character in my own life's play, can not do such a thing!  Preposterous!

Act 4: Sunday

Gone but not forgotten.

I spent today out of the Seattle area to visit my mother.  In a remote way, nothing happened and I should have nothing to talk about if I was not in the city and no where near datable men- except the Scooter boy was apparently back at Bauhaus, striking me with his extended cuteness even as far away as I was.  I was very jealous that I was not there.  I asked Wifey to tell him hi for me, but she didn't do it.  She said one of our other friends would do it for me, but he didn't either.  I think they either chickened out or were too wrapped up in their own games.  I would gladly do my own beckoning, should I have been there... but I wasn't, so I tried a feeble attempt to make a move from 140 miles away.  And though I enjoyed visiting my madre, it would have been nice to see Scooter Boy again.  I must be more vigilant now that I know he is there frequently, and not just one fluke time.  

Perspective Piece

It's a hard fall- before reality softens the blow.

Two things I have noticed:

1.) everyone seems to be on first dates these days

and 

2.) people are lonely.  Or starving.  Deprived of meaningful interaction in their lives.  Not all, but a lot that I have found these days.  And though they will not outright say it- though they may hide behind the facade that friends or relationships provide them, you can see it.  I can see it.  I can see it in the distance that grows when one is "with someone (friend or otherwise)", sipping coffee and gazing off into another world of more interesting conversation- the thrill of the new, perhaps.  

Sometimes I feel that way.  And sometimes my life is on rewind- replaying every situation in my mind: what could I have done or said better, what was ill in the thinking process, or simply having the same conversation over and over and over again.  

But there is a sickening comfort in that.  One might slip into the ease of repetition and familiarity.  I think that is why I stayed in a relationship with Ex so long.  Truth be told, I should have never dated him.  But I was naive.  I wanted a relationship, much as I feel now.  I settled.  It troubles me to think that I may slip into a similar situation again, should I not be cautious.  And then, how do I shut out being overly-cautious, as so much as disposing of opportunities before they happen?

And if, for a moment, we assuredly go back to the idea of loneliness, can one discover that we are only really lonely if our own person is not enough to fill the void?  How can it be that I want a relationship, but I do not know the legitimate, qualifying reasons for this?  I tried to go out on a dinner date with myself the other day.  I enjoyed it, but it was also awkward. I had no one to share ideas with, or exchange jokes with... just myself, and my own pathetic internal dialog; trying to rationalize everything I already said, and trying to comfort myself that it is "O.K. to be single".  I know it is.  I understand this, but I don't want to process it.

And so, like my fellow coffee shop dwellers, bar regulars, and localites, I entertain the idea of a promising relationship, I find people to attach my unrequited feelings to, and smile when I eat alone.  Realistically, I do not need a relationship- I need to be comfortable with myself first.  And that, my friends, is the genuine difference between cocky and confident- the level of trust and comfortability one has for themselves.  I don't need a boyfriend, I need confidence- which I will not find if I keep doting on my own personal imperfections or loneliness.   

Escape Artist

They're as thick as thieves, these two...

Set Change/New Location: The Garage; Anna Purna'

s; Red Robin

Last night was my date with the 31 year old.  I really didn't want to go all that much.  Slowly I have started to make realizations about what I want, why I am

 looking, and why I can't find what I am after.  The one thing dating has given me the courage to do, is not to settle.  However, this still conflicts with my need to be nice- give everyone a shot- be everyone's friend.  And it is exactly this factor that I struggled with last night. 

The day started late.  Wifey and I decided to go down to Red Robin on the pier, which, I assure, is by no coincidence where the three friends (friend-of-a-friend and the other two gentlemen that we drank with) work.  After all, I did tell the two boys the night before that I would come in that day and visit them.  I... I am good to my word!  Two of them were working there, including F-o-a-f.  On accident, we were given the kids menu.  It worked in our favor though when we decided to color pictures for the boys to put up in their apartment.  And though they were working, they made quite a bit of conversation with us.

After our Red Robin tryst, we went to Bauhaus to kill the time we had before my date.

The date itself started at Anna Purna's- an Indian Food restaurant on Broadway.  I thought, if nothing else, this is a sweet gesture on his behalf, because on our first date I had mentioned that I would like to go to India due to the vegetarian options that would be provided.  The food was flavorful, but the conversation was bland.  

We went to the Garage afterward to play pool.  I said that, since he bought dinner, I could spring for drinks.  Mind you, I decided to drink not but a few hours after I made the proclamation to never drink again.  But I needed to.  There was just no attraction to this guy- he was too old for me- and for some reason I started to get creeped out a little.  At one point in time (I think it was when he was making so many sexual innuendos with pool; basically anything involving balls, sticks and holes.  So cliche) I said under my breath "oh god, I need to drink this faster".  

After two games I excused myself to the bathroom (primarily because I had to pee, but wanted to finish my drink before I did) and called my Wifey.  I told her to come and save me.  She asked if I was in the bathroom and my response was "fuck yes I'm in the bathroom.  Duh!"  Ah, Wifey to the rescue!  It is like we are married.  I told her not to reveal just yet what her plan of attack was because I didn't want it to seem premeditated, and if I knew, I might over think it and ruin the believability of it.  

She came in.  Was "surprised" to see me there.  He asked if this was my wifey (ok, now the only reason he would know this is if he has been heavily facebook stalking me... which, I forgot to mention, at dinner he relayed back to me my past three or four facebook status updates by dropping them at various points in our conversation....)  She said that she was meeting up with some friends there.  I told her she could wait with us until then.  She waited a little while- pretended to be on her phone a lot, just kind of hung out, and then said that one of our Boy Watcher's Club friend's was sick and needed us to take him to the hospital.  She said he kept trying to call me but I wouldn't answer and that his roommates were out of town.  

I tried to make it seem like I wanted to stay.  And at first I was a bit aloof about the whole situation-  oh, it is just so-and-so, he is probably just drinking again.  And things like, "oh, well, why don't I just meet you there" to which Wifey responded with "I can't carry him alone" etc.  So here we were, sort of arguing, and then I started to get emotional.  I was wearing contacts and one of them started to slip, which naturally made my eyes look glazed, but was not on purpose.  Then I said, well should we go or should we stay (mistakenly to the whole room), and 31 year old said (thinking this was in reference to him and I), "I think we should go, it might be an adventure".  Shit!  How was I going to now get out of him coming with us to the hospital?  I just said sharply, "Wifey, we have to go now!  We are his friends, he why are we still waiting,  we got to go get him!".  

I apologized to my date.  He went in for the hug and kissed me on the cheek, but then awkwardly waited for more.  I was not going to be baited in for that, so I turned around, grabbed my purse, and bolted.  We ran to her car, got to my car, tried to covertly pull my computer out of my trunk (just in case 31 year old was on his way by), and headed to Bauhaus where we met up with our "sick" friend.  It was also plotted out that he, today, will write on my wall some sort of praise or thanks for "helping me out".  Blah, Blah, Blah....  And all would have been extra-smooth, if I wouldn't have left my goddamn tab open at the Garage.  Why did I do that?  I knew I only wanted one drink.... fuuuuuuuuuuck.  It was fine, however, because we went back after Bauhaus closed and retrieved it.

After that, Wifey was going to take me back to my car so i could go home when she got a text message from the guy she made out the other night (who are you's friend).  He was telling her about this new mattress he received today.  So, instead of dropping me at my car, we drove around Belltown texting back and forth with him, knowing full well we were leading him on.  There was some sort of retribution in this though, because this was clearly a guy who plays women himself.  And another note, as we were driving through Pioneer Square, wouldn't you know who we saw at a pub down there, picking up a curly-haired brunette?  The Pickup Artist.  So we text messaged him an eerie detail of what he was doing at that moment, and then drove me back to my car.

  

Seeing Double

Even after the room stops spinning, everything still tastes like alcohol.

Enter New Character: Who Are You

Where to start?  I suppose it was before the Tequila but sandwiched somewhere after the Kamikazes.  

This morning, I feel sick.  Just to put that out there.  We went out drinking last night, the Wifey, the Roommate, and some former RA's under the guise (who were we kidding) of a RA reunion.

We went to Linda's.  Everyone at the table ended up getting mixed drinks.  Roomie bought our first round of Kamikazes.  I saw two of the members of The Boy Watchers Club outside.  I went out to talk to them.  They were on their way to Bauhaus, as usual.  

One thing I have figured out about Seattle is that it is hard enough to get a group of friends or people in the same place at the same time.  I mean, we invited quite a few people to come hang out with us last night, but only a handful showed up.  It is because of this inevitable rule that I was so thrown off for the rest of the night's guest list.  

It started when Wifey spotted 666.  Yes, he was back.  Lucky for me, she spotted him just as I was on my way down to get second drinks for Roommate and I.  I sent the roomie down instead- as to avoid a confrontation.  I told her which one he was, and to watch out for him.  As she is standing in line for the bar, wouldn't you know who else shows up?  Goddamn it, it's the pickup artist (who we still call Todd, though that is not his real name).  All I could say was "Wifey, Wifey, Todd is here").  And guess who Todd is standing by?  Roomie, who is standing by 666.  What are the fucking odds?  It was later revealed that The Pickup Artist tried to pick up roomie- to which she responded "he was just so smooth"... yeah.  We know.  That is what he does for a living, I'm sure.  When asked why the Pickup Artist was there, all he could say was "a little birdy told me you guys were here".  Yeah, that fucking birdy was one of the  members of the Boy Watchers Club.  We were all a little perturbed by his presence. 

At any rate, when friend and friend-of-a-friend showed up, we ditched the Pickup Artist and went outside- which was a suggestion on behalf of the boys wehn we revealed that we were not enthused by "Todd".  We realized that before we could leave, someone had to go back to our table and get what we had left there.  Roommate hesitantly went back to retrieve my wifey's sweater (as it was the only thing still there), and imagine her suprise to find that the Pickup Artist had abandoned our tbale to sit with some other people.  It was a good thing that we didn't leave our wallets or purses there.   

It was kind of an awkward conversation between the four of us- as my wifey was not with us, but with a group of six boys who "just moved to Seattle" (alas, don't they all?).  The dialog felt more forced than usual.  I am sure we all thought the same thing.  Friend went and bought all of us a round of tequila shots (which Roommate and I used as a chaser to our second Kamikaze, and third drink (lemon drops) of the night).  Needless to say, it was disgusting.  I almost puked, but resisted the urge.  Wifey came over for a short time.  Then left again (upon my begging her to leave, as she had already taken friend-of-a-friend's seat, which just so happened to be next to me).  Then Roomie had to leave so it was just my friend and friend-of-a-friend holding down the fort.  We found some random junk on the table, one of which was a candy heart glued to some sort of metal object.  Friend-of-a-friend told me I should keep it as a token of the night.  It is still in my purse. 

I must also make a note, that- during the time it was just three of us- I saw 666 again.  He made this mean, extended eye-contact with me.  And then I stood up and proclaimed to the boys "that's him, that's the 666 guy".  Too bad standing, shouting, and pointing drew his attention back to me.  This should also be some indicator of how I was finally feeling the effects of "the drank". 

By the time we left to get the two boys hot dogs, the tequila hit me.  I felt compelled to repetitively announce "So and so, I think you got me drunk"  or "I feel real dizzy".  I took off my shoe to show one of them my tattoo- and then realized I couldn't put my shoe back on.  And it was at that moment understood what it meant to be drunk.  I- as many people do- denied I was drunk and would occasionally spout off big words and say "see, if I can still use that word, I am not drunk".  

After the friend went and retrieved Wifey for me- the two boys left.  And just as I thought "ok, the night is over, I can pee now", Wifey's friends from inside come out.  Apparently, during the time that I was trying to put my shoe back on, Wifey started making out with one of them.  Her and this boy she just kissed came and sat down by me.  He asked me if I would make out with one of the two- or both- of his friends (neither of which were my type- not even my drunk type).  I told him that I wouldn't.  "And besides" I said, "you aren't making out with her".  So he did!  Right there, right next to me.  And then his friend started kissing me.  It was awkward, and I did not appreciate or reciprocate it.  This boys is now called "Who Are You", for obvious reasons. 

I got my shoe on, convinced my Wifey to take me back to her place, saw another friend, and then began the ascent back to her room.  We just so happened to be on the same path home as the three boys Wifey lured from the bar.  She coaxed one of them back across the street to make out with her- at which point I yelled to the boy who tried to kiss me earlier "I am sorry I didn't make out with you more.  I have a boyfriend who has a girlfriend"- which was my reference to friend-of-a-friend- which I might add is not my boyfriend, but yes, has a girlfriend.  

Though we ran into many friends, we safely made it back to her place.  She gave me water, potatoes, and an air mattress to sleep on.  That was a bad idea; as it was, the room was spinning, and the motion caused by fluctuating pressure on the mattress made me even more ill.  This morning, I felt my fair share of what last nights near-triumphs and casual misses brought.  

Repeat Offender

Not everything happens for a reason, somethings just happen for the purpose of messing with your mind or screwing you over.

After dinner (a lovely Veggie BLT/Drank at Honey Hole with the Wifey), we hit Bauhaus early tonight. About 2 hours earlier than usual, in fact. It is weird to go to Bauhaus with out homework or anything exciting to do. I made my usual proclamation for the night: "I am going to find someone tonight", though- as the weeks have been progressing- even I only half-heartedly believe that anymore. And truth be told, I am at the point that I want them to find me, more than I want to go looking.

I played speed scrabble, by myself, while my Wifey did homework. I figure (if nothing else), I am going to leave this summer with a better vocabulary. I also took plenty of time to pine over the fact that I hadn't received a facebook message from Friend-of-a-friend for a couple days now. I think one point in time I even slammed my head, in angst, against the coffee table. And when I finally did receive a message (which occurred sometime during the speed scrabble round I actually played with one of the BWC- not alone) I inappropriately groped my computer out of utter joy. I didn't care that I was making a complete fool of myself- all I cared about was that Friend-of-a-friend was finally getting back to me with polite conversation. That in itself would have made my night.

The Pickup Artist also came back tonight. I don't remember even saying but maybe two words to him. He, of course, sat down with us- but at that particular moment I got a text message from one of the BWC who was sitting outside (the member who put the sticky note on the bicycle, which you may or may not recall by now). While I was reveling in my own self pity ("why does he have to have a girlfriend"), she was engrossed in some of her own ("why does he have to have a girlfriend"). And so it went.

I talked to another friend inside, who shall be known as The Pirate (due to the fact that she wore an eye patch for two days to get out of some work, though she had no need for it in actuality) - loudly- about why it was unfair that the good ones were taken. We looked at friend-of-a-friend's facebook profile, looked at his girlfriend, and tried to make comparisons (as girls often do) between her and me. Completely unjustified (at least I am willing to admit it), we determined that I was the better catch. I mean, after all, we know me- not her. I am sure she is awesome, if she has acquired friend-of-a-friend as a boyfriend, though. Ah, cera.

*I must also mention, before I continue with this story, that the cute Neuroscience guy with the dog was back again today. When he walked in, he smiled at me. I waved at him, smiled back, and said "Hey, no dog today". He said no. I reminded him that if he ever needed a dog watcher, he could let us (my Wifey and I) know, and we would gladly do it. I later learned that Wifey had a similar conversation with him- to which we confirmed that he was not only smart and adorable, but also nice and friendly. He deserves his own name now (to branch him away from a random Coffee Shop Boy, to Dog Watcher). He will come back into play in the story a little later, but I needed to set up his entrance first*

BWC member and I decided we wanted to go up to the balcony of Bauhaus to see if we could spot any cute boys there. And wouldn't you guess who was up there? No, it wasn't the Pick Up Artist. It was Friend-of-a-friend! I couldn't believe it. Was he there because Bauhaus was the first place he had met us and I told him that Wifey and I were frequenting coffee houses these days? Or was he really there for coffee?? How long had he been sitting there? Earlier in the night (I think after I received the message from him) I looked up and told Wifey that I thought the guy in the balcony looked like Friend-of-a-friend, but we both determined "nah", it couldn't be him. I mean, we would see him come in, right?

Upon seeing him up there, I got so nervous that I bolted back down the stairs. I didn't know what to do. I went outside and told my Wifey that I thought I saw him. I sent her to the balcony to be sure that it was him. She came back down and told me that there wasn't anyone up there anymore. During this time I had very mixed emotions. Yes, it is true that I desperately wanted it to be him- but I also was hesitant in these feelings. Let's recap for a moment, shall we. He has a girlfriend! Or at least that is what facebook says (and everyone knows... you simply aren't straight and in a facebook relationship with a person of the opposite gender, unless you are really, truly, in a relationship... right? Or is this just a social misconception that I happened to fathom on my own?)

We determined that he must be in the bathroom. I was possessed. I decided that I would go wait in line for the bathroom as well- just to see if I saw him. It seems rather classic to run into people in the bathroom line, does it not. I went over and stood in line behind some other girl. The moment I got in line, Friend-of-a-friend comes out of the men's restroom.

Our dialog went something like this:

Him: "Oh, Hey!"

Me: "Wow, Hey! Wow. What are you doing here?"

H: "Eh, yah know, just writing. Eh, what are you doing here?"

M: "Well, I have been coming here a lot lately, like every day for the past four days. We are just sitting outside.... um, you should come out and see us"

H: "Yeah, maybe I will come and join you. I left my stuff upstairs, I am going to go check on it"

M: "Ok, see you later"

The woman in front of me was so cute. She was just kind of smiling at me. I couldn't help but explain the situation to her, while we waited in line for the bathroom:

Me: "Ummm. (giggle) I didn't come back here to use the bathroom"

Her: Just smiles at me "no, you didn't?"

M: "No... I mean, I don't even really have to use the bathroom"

H: Laughs

M: "Eh, you want to know something awkward? Earlier, I was talking really loudly over there about how much I wanted to see him... and then, wouldn't you know it, he was sitting right up there... oh God, I hope he didn't here me... I have to go". And then I left the line- which wasn't smart, because that interaction with him made me nervous and have to pee.

I went outside, to where we were sitting. I forced my Wifey to go and sit with The Pickup Artist at the table across from me. So here I am, nervously sitting alone, rearranging the stuff at my table (while a bulk of people outside are watching me), staring up at the balcony- as I can see him from my table- awaiting his decent. Meanwhile, I am doing my best- with the help of my Wifey- to ward off the carnivorous beasts who are after the empty chair sitting beside me; as it was extraordinarily packed outside, and seating as is was scarce. I did a good job, up until the time when I walked over to talk to Wifey and a stranger came and snatched my spare chair for himself. Wifey tried to tell him not to take it, but as I thought FOAF (friend-of-a-friend) was not coming down anytime soon, I told him he could have it. At this point, I become aware of those around me, and Dog Watcher- bless his sweet heart- offered up an extra chair at his table for me to take. I reply to this by saying "oh, that is so nice of you! (sort of under my breath, but rather loud) I better get filled now that I went to all that trouble. Hey, thanks so much!" Again, what a nice guy. I think we were providing some sort of entertainment for him, if nothing else.

So I wait, and wait, and wait... and it seams as though FOAF is not coming down. As I go to pick up my things and move over by Wifey, I realize that my scrabble tiles from earlier are now strewn about on the ground. I clumsily pick them up just as FOAF is making his way downstairs. At first I try and collect them rapidly, but then I start to take my time. Maybe this will start a conversation. Maybe he will help me. He was ordering a drink, so I found myself picking up the tiles at a snails pace, with help from one of the BWC, and occasionally spilling them back on the pavement (woops). Finally, I picked them all up- but while I am doing this, I become invisible, he comes outside, sees Wifey, and starts to talk to her. So I pack up my things and go over to that table. Not at all casually, might I interject.

After some deliberation, Wifey and I suggest that we join him inside to "study". He accepted our offer, but Wifey insisted that I go in alone. I was so nervous. I hesitated, and walked very slowly up the stairs.

And just another interjection: I DO NOT chase after boys with girlfriends- ever. I back off. The Ex cheated on me before. It sucked. I have been there, and lord knows I don't want to be "that girl". But for some reason, I still felt anxious/excited to talk with him- though I know (so long as he has a girlfriend) I would not resort to doing anything to compromise that. It is just not my style. If nothing else, I figure I can end up with a good friend when all is said and done.

Anyway, we talked for a couple hours. Wifey visited us once, and then left. We talked about a lot of things- but never his girlfriend. Maybe I am wrong, and maybe I need a little insight on this, but when one has a significant other, is it not in their nature to mention them occasionally , or casually in a conversation (or two) that lasts a few hours?

The reason why I am so taken aback with FOAF is because he is very easy to talk to. Kind of like 31 year old, only Friend-of-a-Friend is actually my age, and we are going through similar life experiences. I can't even tell you what we talked about, because I don't really know. There was so much, I suppose. The conversation, again, didn't die, and didn't get repeated. It is refreshing. And I found myself genuinely laughing a lot... again. And yes, there was still some awkwardly pleasant small talk, with such topics as "middle age women and their kitchen decor, which more or less has to include some sort of rooster that you stick your kitchen knives into". Oh brother.... that is all I have to say. Let me repeat myself, if nothing else, I have made a new friend who is easy to talk to- which is a high demand in my life right now...

I think Wifey and I are going to invite him and his roommates out on Friday with us. We will see where it goes. It can't go to far (not that it would) though, because I have a date on Saturday with 31. He is pretty excited about it. I am positive he is going to try to make a move on me- I am just not sure how I am going to handle that yet. But I will make sure to blog about it in the up-coming days.

One Note Wonder

There is a difference between:

Cocky

and

Confident 

31 messaged me again:  

We are sooooo mutually agreeable... amazing.
You're easy to talk to as well... the words just flow into you.
I want to read his (David Sedaris) book about being a santa... have you read that?
Do you like to play pool at The Garage(Cap hill)? I'm no Minnesota Phats... but it is fun anyway. Would Friday or Saturday evening work for you at all? I want to see your skills.

g'nite,

31

I responded that Saturday was fine...

I went to Bauhaus almost 2 hours ahead of my Wifey today.  While I waited, I talked to a friend in Colorado via video chat and played speed scrabble... by myself.  I figured, maybe this will be a good conversation starter, if nothing else.

The Pickup Artist came back.  He really only knows how to talk about one thing- picking up women.  *Yawn*  He talked a lot about the book "The Game" and how great it was.  Being as me, my Wifey and the members of BWC all come from a Jesuit institution that promotes, among many things, social justice (which, yes, can relate to Women's issues)- and we felt as though we had been educated on the social constructs behind "The Game"... we were not impressed.  The Pickup Artist also let us read the e-news letter he subscribes to which is all about how to, yet again, get the ladies.  He kept referring to those guys... you know.... the ones who sleep with a lot of women (more or less) as Naturals.  I just call them ass holes.

Here is the thing- if you need a manual to pick me up, then I probably don't want to date you.  Yes, sure, everyone has their insecurities... but when you have to mask them, instead of confront them, and in a way that makes you come off as an asshole... then, me, as a self-respecting feminist, will not bite that bated line.  I would like to see that in one of his news letters.  

And, alright, sometimes I am obvious about checking out guys (I can't help it), but he was overly obvious about checking out girls.  In fact, he would loudly comment about them- whereas I just oggle and drool.  I mean, maybe we are just different people.  

He also tried to show us this post about how a guy should not compliment a girl- unless they really do something to deserve it.  I bet you nine out of ten girls would punch a guy for not complimenting them ever.  Both my Wifey and I talked about this, and we agreed it seems like a stupid move on a guys part.  Granted, I don't like an excessive amount of flattery- but it is still nice to get every now and then.  I am not trying to win a boys affection- it should just be mutual respect and admiration that is gained.  Call me idealistic....

Lastly, I don't want to have to deal with guys who are playing a game with me.  Regardless of how it may come off, I am not trying to play games with guys.  I am a simple girl looking for someone who is naturally themselves- not a natural player, and who doesn't need to play games to get me interested.

Oh, and final note:  Maybe it was because he was tall, or maybe he was trying to subtly make a move, but somehow (and I don't want to jump to the conclusion that it was on his behalf), his legs kept making their way under mine.  Keep your legs on your own damn side of the table!  Geezuz Cry-st!

Sticky Situation

It is not OK to take candy from strangers... but no one ever said anything about advice...

Enter New Character: The Pickup Artist

As I have been feeling a little dehydrated lately (wonder why, seeing that I have not been drinking much water in the past five days). Roommate and her boyfriend came over. We played Phase 10 and made brownies. When we do these kind of activities together, we like to think of it as a test of how it is going to be when we actually share the same apartment. So far, every test we have set ourselves up for has been passed.

After they left, I met up for dinner with The Ex. Our stomachs took us to Flowers Cafe. On the way over I told him that I was feeling sort of dehydrated, and though I have never really drank all that much, I wasn't going to do it again until I felt a wee bit better. That lasted about five minutes because the happy hour drink special was one of the two drinks that I know and have consumed now. I felt it was a sign that I had to drink. It did nothing for me though.

We talked pretty casually about our dating lives.  Which is a big step to do with an Ex, in my opinion.  It wasn't even in the fashion to make one another jealous.  Rare.  From what I have gathered, his new girlfriend really isn't a girlfriend at all. Something tells me she has become his mere booty call, due to her lack of a want  of commitment (and I can't blame her. She seems a little above his league, should leagues even exist- which is a concept I am currently grappling with).  *Note* My Wifey told me later that she talked to Ex via AIM and he said that I was trying to hard.  I think he is just a little jealous that I refuse to invite him along when we go drinking.

After dinner, I went back to the lovely trenches of Bauhaus, yet again, with my Wifey. At first we sat outside, but when my computer battery started to die, we moved inside. By complete accident, while unpacking our goods, my Wifey tapped the window next to us. Wouldn't you know it, there was a boy out there! So here Wifey is, giving extended eye contact to this boy who just so happens to be giving it back. There was a commotion outside from two people sitting next to this new boy- now titled The Pickup Artist.  He gestured to his phone, as though to ask Wifey for her number.  We wrote it on a sticky note (now twice proving themselves of use).  He dialed it and let us listen to the conversation that was in full bloom between the two characters sitting next to him.  After that he came in and joined us at our table.  

I had my blog open on complete accident and he asked what I was blogging about.  How was I going to explain that I was blogging about dating...I mean, what if he is a character I need to write about?  What if I wanted to write about her flirting with him, him flirting with her, or me, or me flirting, or him flirting with himself?  What then?  I tried to limit who I gave this blog address out to, but this kind of put an unexpected kink in things.  Oh well.  Comfortable or not, I am going to continue to blog about the situation as is.  

For some reason I thought his name was Todd, so the whole night (and even still), I kept calling him Todd, though that was no where near what his real name was.  So we start talking about my blog.  Actually, the majority of the conversation last night (which lasted until Bauhaus closed) was focused on dating, dating lives, and perceptions of dating.  The Pickup Artist (and essentially this is why he gained that specific title) gave us a lot of insight to the males perspective on the dating scene.  Well all, more or less, mutually came to the conclusion that what everyone needs is a little more confidence.  Oh, and needs to learn to keep themselves approachable.  He told us about the 3 second rule, which I think I am going to try to put into practice.  The rule goes like this: Say what you want to say in the first three seconds- don't over think it or you will be less likely to muster up your courage to actually stutter something like "I like your base... your beat is nice" .  

We also started to analyze peoples behaviors.  One of the Boy Watchers was outside.  We watched as a girl approached him (she started to talk about his Guam sticker- we presumed it was because she too was from Guam).  She gave all the signals one would expect when trying to exude flirtatious vibes.  She sat down next to him, slanted her chair inward, touched her hair more than her stylist probably does when cutting it, and kept their eyes in gridlock.  It was a perfect case study.  To bad for her, females are not quite the type he is looking for.  Everyone has types, I guess.

A little while after this interaction happened, the guy that I posted the stranger ad finally came in!  He seemed a bit older than I remember him- and while age isn't a problem all that much for me, he seemed like the type that it might be of concern for him.  I smiled at him on occasion again- but I think I made too much eye contact this time.  I wish that I would have approached him, but I think he lost any interest he previously had- so I had to fore go that motion for now.

Another of the Boy Watchers joined the conversation as well.  We were all scoping out and talking about passer-bys and Bauhaus regulars.  At this point in time- even the Pickup artist started commenting on women of the night.  It was hard to tell what the deal with him was: was he originally trying to get some action from one of us?  Why else would he come in?  Was he waiting for us to be more forward?  Or did he just want us as the girls he took around to pick up other girls?  All of it was a bit too confusing for us..

One of the girls, part of the BWC, pointed out one boy in particular that she admitted to being one of the primary reasons for her frequent flier miles to Bauhaus.  He, himself, was part of, what looked to be a bicycle gang of really hip looking kids.  She pointed him out to us as he took off on his bike with some friends and explained how she had always wanted to talk to him,but never got up enough courage.  She explained that now it was finally at the point that she didn't even know what she would say to him.  We kind of talked about it, and sort of left it at that...until.... HE CAME BACK!  I told her to wave at him; she didn't so I did.  And then, when he walked in to Bauhaus and The Pickup Artist waved him over.  He told bicycle gang boy that he had a fan club, and next time he saw us, to say hello.  I think he was flattered (even though it embarrassed the crap out of us). 

And then I don't know how exactly it happened, but we managed to convince her to go outside and leave her number on his bicycle.  Again, the sticky notes proved themselves useful (for those keeping tabs, this is thrice now).  *Sticky Note to self- always ALWAYS carry sticky notes, especially if you are on the prowl*.  This seemed like a sweet gesture until the biker boy's friend started to ride his bike around, picked up the note, and took it to to him, in almost a mocking way.   

End of this story: The guy who got sticky-noted the phone number, actually text messaged her.  Unfortunately, he has a girlfriend who lives in Portland... but, he did say he liked to make new friends, and asked her to say hi when she sees him.

And Your Little Dog Too

Don't judge a book by it's cover, judge it by the dog it is carrying, and the job application it is filling out.

Todays character: Another random coffee shop boy

31 wrote me this facebook note today:

Meeting you was definitely a highlight of my weekend for sure. Your personality kind of reminds me of Amy Sedaris in a way. Are you a fan of her and her brother?

I'd like to hang out with you again so I can hear more of your stories and recapture the essence of you (not in a creepy way).

Upon taking a break from "the drank", Wifey and I went back to Bauhaus. It seemed like it had been so long since we had been there last (but truth be told, it was only a few short days). I looked again for the cute boy I posted the stranger ad about; no luck. Could I even remember what he looked like now? I don't know.

The night was pretty short, and mildly uneventful. My Wifey and I mostly kept to ourselves. The Boy Watchers Club joined us a little later. We all sat next to the window, doing our "own thing". In fact, we were so engrossed in our selves, that it wasn't for quite sometime until we noticed the cute boy who was sitting outside Bauhaus. Wait. Let me rephrase this. We noticed the cute white puppy sitting outside Bauhaus. However, it did not take us long to realize that the puppy was attached to an attractive guy. (But I am still positive that the puppy made him even more attractive than he already was. It was fucking adorable).

So my Wifey and I are just kind of scoping him out, when I notice he is looking for jobs on his computer. And wouldn't you know it? He is looking for jobs at Swedish Hospital under the category of "Neuroscience". Not only that, but he is keeping a "to-do" list on his computer and knocking things off as he goes along. So what are the odds, that this cute, clearly smart, organized man, with a really adorable puppy would be sitting against the same glass as us (unfortunately on the opposite side), and be sitting alone? Well, our chances for that evening were very high, apparently.

We tried to get Wifey to go back outside and give the guy her number, but it seemed as though suddenly she had lost her confidence in the situation.  I remembered I had sticky notes in m purse, and a marker (there was a purpose for me bringing them, but I honestly don't remember).  I wrote on the back side of the note (so that it would stick to the window), If you ever need a dog watcher and Wifey's phone number with an arrow pointing to her.  I think he saw it, but just kind of smiled at it.  

31 Flavors

*Insert Witty Headline Here*

In my search of...well, whateverthehell it is I am searching for.  Asfaras dating, in Seattle, everyone is too shy, too busy, or too cool.  You: Be whoever you are.  It doesn't matter much, honestly.  Those who are genuine impress me.

 22, #139583

-or so read my personal ad in the stranger.  You can pick up a copy for yourself this week, if you would like.

New Character Entrance: The 31 Year Old.  

In response to: The Stranger Ad

Today was my date with 31 year old- or 31 for short now.  It is weird for me to think of him as the same age as my older brother.  I don't know how I feel about that.  I think if I didn't understand the complexities of trying to find people to date in Seattle, I would wonder why the hell a 31 year old would be responding to a 22 year old's ad.  But it makes more sense to me now, then ever before.  

Prior to our meeting, we had been in communication via facebook.  Facebook: A social utility that connects you with the people around you.  We had arranged to meet today for coffee at Vivace.  It took me a good five minutes to get out of my car, and another 5 to walk 20 feet to Vivace.  After the luck I have been encountering with the meeting of people, needlessly I was hesitant.  

I arrived earlier than 31, which was what I hoped would happen.  I hate having to scope out a room when looking for someone, as it makes me feel awkward.  I forgot to pick up the stranger (or any other paper for that matter) on my way in.  I mean, what do you do while waiting for someone you have never met before?  You can't order already...that would be impolite.  I attempted to text message people to kill some time.  I only really had to wait three or so minutes, so it wasn't bad.  

Unlike the other's I have been on dates with recently, 31 was polite enough to by my drank for me.  We sat sort of out of the way, in the back.  I ordered an Americano- which was the first time I had ever really had one.  I think the Beastie Boys said it best when they lyricized "I like my sugar with coffee and cream".  Unfortunately, an Americano has neither...infact, it is on the polar-opposite end of the spectrum, but I made it through it.  Infact, I "shot" the last 1/4 of it in one go.  I can't help but to think of the awkward faces I was making while drinking it.  Never again.

At one point in the conversation..never mind, it was probably with in the first two sentences of the conversation he asked if he was "what I thought he would be like".  I told him that I don't really try to get a mental image of strangers any more- and, being as I have already seen his facebook photos,  he was pretty true to those photos.  I guess, truthfully, the only thing that threw me off a little, was that he was a bit shorter than I expected him to be...but hey, when you graze just above 5 feet yourself, height really doesn't matter all that much.  

Other information that you may want to know: 31 is a software designer for retail companies.  He actually helped design/program some of the software that we used to have at my old job in retail.  He travels to Korea a lot for work- or so I gathered.  The weirdest thing he ever ate was octopus in Korea that was uncooked and still moving when he ate it- though some what cut up.  One of his goals is to design a shirt for Threadless.  

After our coffee, we went across the street to Cal Anderson.  We took a little walk around the park and then sat in the grass and talked.  Our "date" lasted about two and a half hours total, which is a fair amount of time for a first date, I would say.  We talked about everything, from physics to metaphysics, movies to music...the usual.  One of the things that this whole dating process has made me discover about myself is the amount of talking time I have.  It has helped me actively try and really think about when I should talk and when I should allow others to talk.  There wasn't really any dead time during our conversation- which I think of as a good sign.  I didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable at all (aside from the closure of our date).  He told me that he would take me indoor rock climbing, and that I could do it for free- if I wanted to, as it is one of his hobbies.  I think I might just take him up on that offer.  I think 31 would have invited me to dinner, should I not have had dinner plans with Ex already (which, as it is now almost 8pm, are still yet to unfold).  

He made a lot of eye contact.  He didn't stare at inappropriate places on my body.  There was a lot of little flirty moves,  but nothing that made me uncomfortable.  We got up to part ways.  We hugged...which was slightly more than a friend hug, considering the placement of arms and proximity.  I had the feeling he wanted to kiss me to end the date- as I went to leave for my car.  In fact, I could tell he was thinking about it at least twice.  In the midst of this awkward tension, I eased my way towards my car, and avoided that situation.  Wifey asked me if I would have kissed him...I don't know...I really don't.

 

Ladies Night

Yes, it's ladies night so all you gents move off the floor because you have lost your turn to jive.

Ladies night, or so it is to be called, is the only way to properly acknowledge the happenings of the night.

New Character Introduced: Femme Fatale

New Set: Txori

The original plan for the evening (developed long ago, and by that I mean a week ago) was to hit up Belltown with the Wifey and Wifey's friend(s?).  At some point in time, though I don't remember which, in the afternoon, Roommate agreed to accompany us as well- which actually worked out great because wifey's friends canceled and I am pretty sure  "Ladies Night" should include at least three women...for good measure, if nothing else.  And so, the plan was hatched.   

Roommate and I left to go pick up the Wifey and dine at Red Robin, those reasons by now should be more than apparent.  I did a little flirting while driving- once with the neighbors who offered Roommate and I to join them in their beer shananegins, and once with a fellow gas-guzzling drive-aholic.  The second was not premeditated, I was just trying to be a good citizen by rolling down my window and telling him that his "thing was open" (in reference of course to his gas cap).  When it turned out he was attractive, I just kept smiling and looking his way...I think at one point in time I may have even given him a thumbs-up.  

We picked up Wifey, went to Red Robin.  No luck.  Went to Txori, which is a pintxos bar, where Roommate's boyfriend works.  Didn't do any boy-scouting, but did eat some of the best food I have had in a long time.  All three of us got wine-soda's which, much as the name sounds, conaitn red wine and either orange soda or cola.  None of us were very familiar with the Belltown area (location of txori), but had it in our heads that we could go bar hopping there.  Unfortunately, we did not find any bars to bounce to or from- they all seemed to be eateries and we were full already, so we ended up going to Linda's.  

We had two rounds of drinks at Linda's.  I never thought I would end up drinking with Roommate because of our own self-proclaimed "uptight-ness".  It was fun though.  I tried a kamikaze, suggested by her- which I actually liked.  We tried to dare each other to make moves on various boys, but all of us chickened out.  

Roommate had to leave early because her boyfriend got of work, so Wifey and I moved from our hidden booth to a table by the bar, for better leverage of course.  

This is where we found the action of the evening.  What would ladies night be with out a little action- and what better suited action than by another female?  Enter Femme Fatale.  Let me preface this story by saying, if my cleavage was a penis, I would be very well-endowed, so to speak.  Let me also say that on this particular night, ladies night, I chose to wear a dress that lifted and highlighted my own girls.  Ok, back to the story, so here Wifey and I are, sitting at a table by the bar, when- wouldn't you know it- a female approaches our table, we will call her Femme Fatale.  She says that there is a pool of money at the table where she is sitting and she will win it if I let her motor boat me.

Cut from story: Urbandictionary.com

Urbandictionary has this to say about motor boating: "1. Motor Boat: To bury ones face in some giant jugs and shake your face back and fourth while blowing out, and making a hubababa sound."

Back to story:

I think for a minute and then decipher what motor boat must mean, to which I smile gently and politely shake my head "no" proclaiming, in a very sweat dumb-blonde type of voice, I might add, "no, I don't think so, thanks though".  That was the most action any of us got all night.  But  what would possibly be more appropriate for ladies night?  

Oh, also a side note to this story:  After the motor boat incident, I pulled out my bandana to wear, thinking "this might cover up some of my cleave" when a familiar face, who was standing next to me, told me "no...don't do that, it only attracts more attention to that area".  For the whole night I thought this was someone I knew from school.  Every now and again he would pass our table smiling at me.  Wifey thought he might be gay, but I told her that I, for some reason, did not think so.  The following morning it dawned on me; where I knew him from, that is.  Turns out he was the guy a year or so ago that tried to ask me for my phone number so we could have a dinner date at open mic- while I was sitting with the Ex (and while we were still dating), which was awkward because I wanted to be polite, but also had a boyfriend at the time.  I ended up leaving without giving him my digits...but that was probably why he was smiling so dumbly at me all night- because he too remembered me from long ago.