Like a Double Date. But Not.

I like to pretend I’m invisible.  I’ve moved around a lot recently and always feel “new” to whatever area I happen to live in and have this idea that I’m too new to run into people I know when I’m out and about. 

But I’m not.  Invisible or too new.

There was the time I ran into my boss at Blockbuster.  I had stopped in on my way out to meet a date.  In getting ready for the date I put on a super slutastic dress, but at the last minute decided to throw some jeans on underneath it and make it more of a long tunic.  Thank goodness.  I don’t need my boss looking at me everyday thinking about that time he almost saw my naughty bits when I was by myself at Blockbuster on a Saturday night.

Then there was last night when I went on a date with OBE.  The first since our debate date last week.  I kinda like him so we’ll see where we end up, but that’s not the point.  The point is that I ran into my hairstylist there.

Oh yeah, and a guy I went out with over the weekend.  And his date.

Such is the awkwardness of online dating.  You have to assume the other person is seeing other people as well, but it’s just kind of weird when you become a spectator to that date.  They sat maybe five feet away from us, but at the bar with their backs to us. 

I spent most of the night trying to sneak peaks because I wasn’t 100% sure it was actually him, although, I’m not sure how many 6’5″ strawberry blond (seriously, he’s adorable) Adonises (oh yeah, and kinda sexy) are lurking around town.  

Before they left (after two hours, my date with Adonis was four, just saying), to add another layer, OBE said, “I worked out with that guy the other day.  He lives in my apartment complex.”

OBE  lives a mile from the bar.  And to the best of my knowledge, Adonis lives by me, 15 miles north, which is why it was so odd to see him there in the first place.

I have come up with the following possibilities:

Initial reaction:  Adonis lied about where he lives.  And is actually married with lots of blonde ridiculously-sized babies.

On second thought:  Maybe there ARE a handful of 6’5″ strawberry blondies parading around town.  At least if it doesn’t work out with either of these guys, I can do a simple trade.

Or maybe:  OBE lied for some reason. Or also didn’t get a good look at the guy at the gym and/or bar.

I couldn’t take it anymore and had to find out. Through a series of text messages this morning, I have uncovered the following:

Yes, it was Adonis at the bar.  Although he initially said he was out with a friend (and we all know that guys call guy friends “buddies”) and asked why I didn’t say hey, I called him out and told him it would have been awkward on his date.  He said, “it is what it is” and I said, well my date, who thinks he knows you and that you live near him, might have minded. 

Adonis insisted he lived by me and laughed at the situation.

OBE said that he was pretty sure it was the guy from his gym, but that he could have been mistaken. And he asked me why and I had to ‘fess up.  And then my comment I had made about how Adonis was likely counting on his height and bicep muscles to override his ugly shoes and get him laid came back to bite me in the ass.

And then OBE laughed at the situation.   

Is there a manual for this somewhere?

So, faith in men and dating, particularly online dating, might be a little shaky right now.  But, I think the important thing to remember here is that I’m not crazy.  Or blind.

And that I laughed at the situation.



My last few New Year’s Eves have kind of blown.

2010 – I worked. While attempting to cocktail a tray of champagne-filled flutes, I dumped about half ON A GUEST (in my defense I was the door girl, not a server).  I mumbled an apology but was focused on getting back to the bar to get more because it was like 11:58 and most of the room was empty-handed.   All the champagne got out and I grabbed my own just in time to cheers the new year with my frustrating boss, his mail-order Russian bride and my very recently exed boyfriend.  Then the ex asked me outside and gave me some awkward speech about how it doesn’t have to be awkward and kissed me on the cheek.  Then I went home and cried and ate a burrito.

2009 – I worked earlier in the evening with my roommate/best friend/boss.  We went home and each fell asleep by 10, like the little old ladies that we are.

2008 – This was during the only party girl phase I went through.  I went to an overpriced party at a club with my two roommates and maybe kissed a guy or three.  My horrible roommate documented it and later sent those pictures to the guy who became my boyfriend seven months after the fact (because of a very twisted back story that involves a lovely little love triangle).  And I’m sure I was terribly hungover the next day.

2007 – I was sick, so couldn’t drink but went out with high school friends anyway.  My boyfriend had recently moved away and we were attempting the long distance thing.  I called him at midnight, but he claimed he didn’t get the call and got mad at me and we fought for the next two days. 

I don’t remember the years before that and it’s probably for the best. I always said that, hey the only way to go is up, but I would be totally okay if this NYE didn’t suck.  One of my Day Zero things is have a great NYE kiss.  I have three chances for it, so there’s not a ton of pressure there, but I have definitely been overthinking my plans. 

Plan A – Celebrate NYE and a friend’s 21st birthday in Las Vegas.  I actually got a ticket for this.  Then I thought about it for two seconds.  NYE…Las Vegas…21-year-olds (in her defense she does actually act older, but I imagine the occasion will have her and her 25-year-old girlfriend both acting like true 21-year-olds)…so not my style.  My Facebook invite RSVP slowly retreated from yes to maybe to no.

Plan B – Throw something together locally with other friends who also backed out of the Vegas trip, which is, like, everyone. 

Plan C – Rebel will be working at the party I worked at last year because, yes, he does have the same job as my ex, which is fortunately where the similarities stop (and my ex is no longer there) and has suggested I hang out there so I can at least see him.  This is less of an actual option, more of something I think about when I need a good laugh.  I am so not going back, even to see my adorable, little Rebel.

Plan D – My second invite came from my college roommate hosting a party in her fab apartment in LA.  Cocktails at night to be followed with watching the Rose Bowl Parade go by right outside the next morning.  Low key night with ladies I love and don’t see enough of?  Yes, please.  I switched my ticket to take me to LA for a fun-filled 24 hours.  It’s definitely more my style, except the only confirmed guests are two of the girls and their significant others, making me a fifth wheel.  I informed her I would be hanging off her balcony inviting tall, dark, handsome passersby up and she did not retract my invite so in a few short hours I’m jetting off to LA.

I didn’t really have plans the last few years and they sucked, so maybe since I came up with something ahead of time it won’t suck as much.  But, if it does, it can only go up from there, right?