The Bartender

I went out with friends for brunch this past weekend. We went to a great place that has an 'all you can eat' menu. Danger #1: I have no will power when it comes to food that is delicious and unlimited. Danger #2: Cocktails were included, no additional note needed, you know how dangerous that is.

We got to the restaurant at 11:00am, right when they opened because we were a large party and didn't want to wait. When we got to the hostess stand, she told us we could either wait two hours or sit at the bar. The bar it was!

We sat. We drank. We ate. We chatted. We drank some more. Eight women with mimosas. And bloody marys. And summer shandies. And some tapas mixed in for good measure.

Our bartender was awesome. His name was Carlos. I asked his name during the first drink because I anticipated we'd be at his bar for a while and wanted to make friends. The more I drank, the chattier I got, and the cuter Carlos became.

Uh-oh. Bartenders are my kryptonite.

After about four hours (yes, you read that right - a four hour brunch), the overconsumption special ended, and as we were preparing to leave, I told my friend Dolly that I had a crush on the bartender. She fancies herself a master matchmaker, which I think is stupendous, and bellied up to the bar to talk to Carlos and find out if he was single, straight, a serial killer, etc.

Turns out he was looking for "a nice, young lady" so Dolly called me over and pulled a Barney Stinson, "Haaave you met my friend Betti?"

I gave him my number and told him where I would be hanging out that night should he want to stop by. Then Dolly, who is tall, but not exactly physically imposing, pulled down her cardigan to show off her guns. She then threatened Carlos, the slightly beefy bartender and said, "If you say you're going to call my friend, and you don't, I'm gonna beat you up". It was awesome.

Dolly's threats worked because I had a text from him 30 minutes later while we were enjoying another libation at a nearby establishment. After an hour we decided to make our way to a party at a friend's house-BBQ, with a quick pitstop at the wine bar where Carlos was drinking after his shift.

We arrived at the wine bar and there he was, talking to a couple in their 50s, who appeared to be from Utah. I got nervous. Really nervous. Thanks to encouragement (read: peer pressure) from Dolly and Veronica, I walked over and said hi rather than standing awkwardly.

He bought me a drink. My friends stayed at a safe distance. Then he bought me another drink, and my friends decided to head over to the party while I hung out with Carlos.

I learned some things about him, we talked about family and work, things we did for fun, what we did for work, cycling, running, etc. After a while he told me he was going to ask me out on a proper dinner date. (Hooray!) A nice, cute guy with killer calves wanted to ask me out on a proper date.

After I finished my seconds drink I told him I had to leave to walk my dog. He asked me not to go. I told him I had to leave, and I left. He texted me three times on my way home. Funny texts, charming texts, silly texts. I replied.

Later that night, after yet another drink with different friends, when I was on my way home, Carlos texted again and asked me to meet him out. I wanted to say, "Dude, you're cute, but come on! It's late, I've been out forever and I'm tired. Unless you're the hot guy from Criminal Minds I'm going home." Instead I texted back that I was on my way home, but was looking forward to seeing him "later".

That was Saturday, it's now Wednesday and I haven't heard from him.

All in all, I feel good about it. I met a nice guy for an afternoon. He added a bit of excitement to an already fun day - like the cherry on top of a sundae. When I was 25, I probably would have met up with him on my way home, become more invested, then felt stupid and sad when he didn't call. Now I just feel generally silly and kind of great. Saturday was a super day.

If he calls and asks me out, will I go? Yes, I probably would. Do I fancy him enough to pursue him? I do not. Not even with those calves. 

A Very Pleasant Date

I was nervous for the date with Smushed Andy, so nervous in fact I had a cocktail - whiskey on the rocks - while getting ready. I then changed my outfit six times in the last four minutes, destroying my room and ultimately panicking and wearing what I wore to work the day before. Note to self: stop wearing turtlenecks on first dates because I get sweaty and probably look like a puritanical prude.

So there I am, running down the street in skinny jeans, a turtleneck and a leather jacket, sweating. To add insult to injury I dyed my hair that afternoon and had inadvertently dyed a jet black widows peak into the skin on my forehead. I realized after I left my apartment that I had combined black hair dye, a white turtleneck and heat/sweat. Ultimately, I was a walking shitshow.

While trying to get out of my neurotic head I see an attractive person passing me. You've got to be kidding me! Hot neighbor! For the first time since I told him he was perfect, and he asked me out, I saw Hot Neighbor. Seriously? Come on universe, give a girl a break. I was late so I smiled silently and kept walking.

I got to the restaurant before Smushed Andy and waited inside trying to cool down and calm down. He got there shortly after. He was cute, totally a smushed down version of Andy Samberg, only a couple of inches taller than me with a nice smile.

We sat and talked and ordered and talked some more. There were no awkward silences or weird spans of time. We shared an appetizer and a dessert. It was a lovely dinner, very pleasant in fact. But it was work. You know when you're supposed to be charming so you actively engage in conversation? The date felt like a great job interview for job I'm not sure I'd want. I was "on" the whole time, focusing on body language, eye contact, etc but it didn't feel natural. I was trying too hard. After two days of reflection, I realized, quite simply, it was a very nice date but I didn't have any fun.

I talked to my mom about the sate on my way home - I should never call my mother when I have a buzz - and told her I was coming from a first (and probably last) date. Surprisingly she told me, almost pressured me to go out with him again. She mentioned it again last night. And after a moment of annoyance I said something that I believe says it all, "I'm working so many hours, I only go out one night a week. I want that night to be fun."

Was it a good date? Yes. Is Smushed Andy nice and smart and engaging? Yes. Do I feel more and more like there is something wrong with me? Yes. I mean, seriously, why is it so much harder for me than everyone else? Or is it equally difficult for everyone who is actively, and unsuccessfully, looking for a partner - and we all feel like we're broken at one time or another?

Grown Up Date

Date is official. I'm meeting Smushed Andy at 7:00 p.m. on Saturday night for dinner. We're meeting at a restaurant without a counter or need for me to pick up my own food. I have a dinner date, like a grown-up dinner date with post-date drinks scheduled. Doesn't he know that could be like three, four, five hours...? That is quite a time commitment. I like my first dates to be over coffee or a cocktail, something with an easy exit, not something that has involves multiple venues and additional chances for me to be awkward and trip over something in transit.

But maybe being outside of my dating comfort zone isn't a bad thing. Smushed Andy seems like a nice guy. He planned the date and provided thoughtful options based on location and convenience, mine not his. I didn't have to do anything but agree.

Now that I think about it, it may not be a bad thing. If I'm going on a grown-up date - maybe that means I'm going on a date with a grown-up. A gentleman, grown-up. Crap, I may be kind of excited. I'll let you know how it goes.

A Note From Peggy Sue

I once had a friend who evaluated guys by their gentleman factor. "All guys are gross," she would reason, "but a gentleman doesn't flaunt that grossness in front of you." Smushed down Andy Samberg is a gentleman. He comes across as smart and kind and genuine and measured--someone who would plan and take the time to find out more about you. See: after our initial emails about whether or not he'd be interested in meeting Betti, he followed up and asked me for some a few facts about her so that they would have some introductory topics to talk about. He's a client at my business, so I've had the pleasure of seeing him and making small talk over the past year or so and recently ran into him outside of work and had such a good time with him that I thought, "Man, this guy is so nice and smart and an actual, functioning adult. He should be dating someone I know." He would seemingly be a good date for one of my friends AND I could keep him in my social circle! Everybody wins! I thought of Betti as a potential match for him because they're both very knowledgeable about current events in a non-DC-snobby kind of a way, they're both thoughtful, they're both more athletic than I am, and neither of them owns a teevee, which I find equally admirable and mind-boggling. So here's to hoping that these two really down-to-earth, thoughtful, smart, lovely people hit it off. Fingers crossed!

A date is set, I think

I replied to Smushed Andy's email last night with a mini novel. I answered all of his questions and tried to ask good follow-up questions. I was kind of nervous to click send. Could excitement be brewing?

I found myself checking my personal email more than usual. I usually only check it on the train to and from work, but I was checking it during the day. Could excitement be brewing?

He wrote back this afternoon with an email twice the length of my novel. It turns out he's a writer. (Side note: I am now self conscious of my grammar in our communications. Damn.) At the end of his email, he asked me out. And I wasn't disappointed. Could excitement be brewing?

We set a date for this weekend. I'll let you know what happens, and if the excitement actually brews.