Friday, January 29, 2010

A Half-Hearted Apology & A Story

I was brainstorming what I should write about today and 9 out of 10 ideas were about...dun dun dun. Boys! Dating too, but mostly boys. I paused for a moment of self-loathing. And then I got over it.

I do hate that so many of these posts are probably going to be about boys. I bet I sound super boy crazy. Maybe I am. I don't really feel like I should have to apologize for it (because wouldn't that essentially be apologizing for who I am at this moment in my life?), but I kind of want to apologize for it. I want to apologize to the 18-year-old me who hoped never to become one of those girls whose life revolved around boys. Sorry hon. But you also thought you would be married by the time you were my age.

So I admit it. Sometimes my life does revolve around boys. In any case, it's certainly the most interesting topic in my life right now. I hardly think there are many people out there who want to read about my dating escapades, but I'm quite sure there are even fewer who would want to read about how I skipped out of work today for 2 hours to go to MoMA, or how I got free shipping on my last J.Crew order or how I hit Bobby Flay with my shopping cart when I went grocery shopping at Whole Foods. Ha! I just threw that last one in there to make it seem like my life is a lot cooler than it is (though I did almost bump into him once). Anyway, this is all to say that sadly this blog may end up becoming a little one-note. So, sorry.

And now for the story!

I wanted to write about the worst date I've been on in the last year. But in the spirit of not becoming That Bitter Single Girl, I decided instead to write about the BEST date I went on this year. When I first starting thinking about it, there wasn't actually a clear winner. Despite all my griping, I actually did go on some pretty great dates this year. There were several nearly-perfect dinner dates where we never ran out of things to talk about, continued with drinks after, and ended the night with a good-night kiss (or two or three). There was an amazingly cheesy date when we went ice-skating at the outdoor rink in Bryant Park, surrounded by skyscrapers and a beautifully-lit Christmas tree, just after it had snowed and everything was dusted with a film of white. And then there were those great "dates" when we ordered greasy take-out, sat on the couch and relished being comfortable enough with each other to just stay in.

But the date I recall the most fondly was none of the above. Actually I'm not sure I can even call it a date. The night I recall the most fondly then.

His name was...hmmm.  No, no, I remember his name. But maybe it isn't exactly fair to put his name on here when I'm not even sharing mine. So, let's just call him 'A'. I was out with some friends at Spitzer's one night when I spied these three guys in the corner of the bar, chatting amongst themselves. When I looked over, one of them gave me this big, toothy, super cute smile. I smiled back (I think) but that was it. My friends and I left the bar not too long afterwards and went down the street to another bar, where the night continued pretty uneventfully. The bar was starting to empty out and we were getting ready to call it a night when three guys walked in. The SAME three guys from Spitzer's. 'A' took one glance at me, pointed and practically screeched, "YOU! You were at Spitzer's!!!! I gave you a HUGE smile and you didn't even come over and say hi!"

I have to pause the story for a second. Doesn't this sound like the beginning of the most perfect how-I-met-your-mother kind of story? Yeah. Sadly, it didn't turn out that way. Instead it turned out that 'A' was moving to Seattle in three days. Three! Just my luck. We ended up talking until we closed the bar down at 4am. There was no initial plan to exchange numbers. What was the point, right? But then his friend practically forced him to ask for mine. And I figured, what the hell. It's not like he was going to call anyway.

But he did. Since he was moving, he had a pretty jam-packed schedule, but I agreed to meet up with him and oh, just TWENTY, of his friends the next night for drinks. They were throwing him a going-away barbeque and then heading to their favorite bar for one last hurrah. So, I went. And I brought two friends along as airbags. I couldn't quite believe myself. Was I really about to meet up with some random guy who was about to move and his entire group of friends? Sure, I'd done some out-of-character things in the past year but certainly nothing this pointless?

One of the first things 'A' said when we arrived was, "I bet in 19 hours, you'll wish I wasn't moving to Seattle." Oh god. Really? I rolled my eyes. And then four hours later, I was wishing he wasn't moving to Seattle.

Apart from the slightly cocky personality, he was amazing. He was easy to talk to and struck just the right balance of talking to me AND my friends but without completely ignoring all of his friends. He was a recently laid-off architect whose latest project had just been completed. He asked if I'd seen it (I hadn't), so when everyone else cleared out, we hopped in a cab and headed over to check it out. It was a gorgeous building. Even more gorgeous was the passion with which he described it. I know nothing about building construction, so he could have been making everything up, but even if that was the case, it was pretty hot. We wandered through all these back areas of the building with him pointing out all sorts of architectural details along the way. And then made out in a stairwell. And then he moved to Seattle and I never heard from him again.

Sometimes I wonder if that's why I can still look back on that night so fondly. Is it simply because there was nothing for me or him to feel sorry for at the end of the day? Is it simply because no one got hurt in the process? Would I still feel the same way about him if he hadn't moved to Seattle and we had actually gone on a second or third or fourth date? I guess I will never know the answer to these questions, but I do know this.

Sometimes it's the things we do in life that we think are pointless that end up becoming the things we enjoy the most.

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