Dec 042009
 

Earlier this week, I plotted out my social calendar. Which group events to go to, and which ones to miss. I had decided that Thursday night I’d to go to a singles event at a bar I’d never heard of but according to maps was close by.

I rarely go to singles events but earlier this week decided it’d be a good idea, so I had it on my mental calendar. I also had promised a new girlfriend that I’d go to a matinee of “New Moon” with her today, so my calendar was a little “full” for a weekday.

It’s still bitter cold outside, and while not raining today, still miserable. So after the movie today, I was freezing and decided to just go home and find the space heater, a blanket, and some hot cocoa.

I completely had forgotten that I’d let it slip to Gety that I had planned to attend this singles event. So as I’m walking in my apartment, she texts me.

“Are you coming tonight?”

I replied that I was thinking of canceling and asked if there was much of a crowd. She said there wasn’t but it was still early (6pm). I debated with myself whether or not to go, while I did my hair and makeup.

Then Gety texts: “Besides I owe you a beer. Oh and they put out free food. Get over here!”

So I change out of my comfy shoes and into my “heels”. Dressing this week has been challenging. Monday night I fell down and scraped up my knee pretty good. It actually didn’t completely stop bleeding til Tuesday night. Raw, and sore, the scrape made wearing pants an impossibility unless I wanted to reopen the wound and be in pain with every step as the material moved over it. So during what is probably the coldest week Austin has seen this year, I was sentenced to wearing skirts.

This summer I actually stocked up on lots of summer dresses, but my winter wear is usually black pants or jeans. So I haven’t had a whole lot of options this week. So today I decide to get inventive. I wanted comfort, style, and warmth, with comfort and warmth being the two highest priorities when I got dressed for the movie. I couldn’t find a skirt that matched the comfy sexy sweater I wanted to wear, so I did some digging and found a dress that I hadn’t worn. I actually forgot I had it. I bought it because it made my boobs look fan-freaking-tastic, and never wore it because it clung a little too tightly around the waist. The dress matched the sweater, so I threw on the dress with the sweater overtop. It looked like a skirt & sweater combo, and figured what the hell. Accessorized it with some of my best jewelry, and went out.

I got nothing but compliments on it. Terms like “Hot” “Smoking” and “Girl you look GOOD.” were used. (Maybe I need to be a little more desperate for outfits more often)

Anyway, I get there and Gety is all sorts of apologizing for skipping out on my Freedom Party and buys my drinks all night. So I think I’ll forgive her.

After saying my hellos to Gety, I go to the entrance table and pay the “party fee” of $3 and get a name tag. The woman behind the table is telling me all about a singles group she organizes. It’s for singles 40-60 years old, and she’s telling me all about how I’d be a perfect fit. Then she sees my facial expression and says “Oh I’m sorry is that not the age range you’re looking in?” I could have slapped her, as her tone was as if I should be because I’m that old. I told her I might go as high as 46, but older than that is starting to get into Daddy-issues that I don’t have. She looked at me like she didn’t believe me. (Actually my problem is less actual age and more along the lines of “If you look like your my dad’s age, then no”)

Normally I get mistaken for 25-30, so her telling me I was well over 40… my self-perception took a big hit. So I head back to the table where Gety was talking to some girls and I sound off. Gety laughs. The other girls very nicely said “You don’t look a day over 30.” Phew. It’s less concerning looking my age, but to go from passing for 30 to being accused of being over 40 in the span of a week.. can really make a girl wonder about her beauty regimen.

We meander around on my insistence. Gety would be more than happy to sit in the corner at a table talking to a group of girls. She’s not really dated much in a decade of her own choice, and finally admitted that she was thinking it was about time to start again. Go Gety Go.

So we go mingle. I’m walking through the crowd. Most of them are way too old for me, so I continue walking. I’m about to the other side of the crowd when this handsome man is suddenly in my way. While facing me, he moves to let me pass if I want, but as our eyes meet he says..

“Hi….” He actually said much more than Hi. I believe there was a question with it, but I was so shocked by the “Hi” that I honestly can’t recall what he said. I know I said something back to him, and we both moved out of the pathway to talk to each other.

Drew then asked me my age. I looked at him like he’d just grown three heads. (Seriously? Never ask a woman her age unless you’re thinking she’s under 18.) But as I thought about the age range of men I just passed through, I stifled a giggle. He might have been a little justified in asking, as he looked maybe 30.. maybe.

I asked him his age. He said he couldn’t tell me. I figured fair play, ok. I didn’t really care that much anyway. I could tell enough from looking at him that he was at least in my age range. He did say that whatever age I thought he was to add 10 yrs. I told him that usually people thought of me as younger as well. He guaranteed me that he was older, which I highly doubt.

He’d ask me a question. I’d answer, and return it with a similar answer. He’d dodge the question. When I complained that he was being unfair, he said he was just joking around but still didn’t answer the question. I ignored it thinking maybe if I stuck it out a little things might improve.

The singles group had us all playing this game, which I was somehow included in but never told the rules. All I knew was that people had a celebrity name on their back. Next I learned that we were to ask people questions about our celebrity in order to guess it. Yay, stupid games! It actually was kind of fun, but irritating.

Drew and I began quizzing each other and trying to guess our celebrities and really began to flirt. That’s when Gety came over. I seriously wanted to kill her. We were having a great flirt on, and then she interrupted and didn’t leave. I tried to ask Drew a question about my celebrity, and she’d interrupt and not answer it. She did finally leave, but only after she’d opened Drew and I up to having to talk to a bunch of other people as well. By the time she left, Drew had been pulled off to his other side talking to two other women about their celebrities. He stayed talking to them for a while, and so I moved on. If he really wanted to talk to me he’d talk to me.

I talked to a few other guys. None of which seemed that into me. They weren’t all that either, so I flirted, smiled, and moved on. Bored and tired, I decided to go home. I was saying my goodbyes to Gety, when I noticed Drew on the other side of the bar. I remembered his games of not answering my questions, so I figured I’d go over and ruin whatever flirt he had going on with whatever girl he was talking to.

He was friend talking to this girl that Gety had introduced me to earlier in the evening, which I didn’t notice they were “friend” talking until I’d already gotten up there to interrupt them.

“Hey, I’m taking off.. was great to meet you.”

She insisted that I join her at her next spot. I thought she meant somewhere other than what she actually said. So I tossed the idea around for a moment, until I realized that she meant the biggest douchebag bar in town. I told as politely as I could that I wouldn’t be caught dead there, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Drew’s face perk up.

She turned to him and invited him as well. I actually think she was trying to talk him into it before I got over to them as well. He looked at me and also said he had a meeting in the morning and wouldn’t be joining her. She left to go convince Gety to join her.

That left Drew and me alone. I was about to walk out as I’d planned, and he began asking me questions. We talked a little bit, and then sheepishly he admitted so softly that I barely caught it.

“The way you look tonight is very hot.”

I of course told him that he was very handsome himself. (He is handsome) He then said that he’d like to hang out with me some more that night and get to know me better in that very same soft barely there voice.

I told him that I was really did need to get home, but that I’d love to get together another time.

“Then its ok if I give you my card.”
“Sure.”

I look at the card as if I’m studying it to deem whether or not he’s worthy enough.

“My cell isn’t on there though.”

I act like his business card is a piece of trash, and reply with a smile; “Then what in the world is this good for?”

“Well I suppose if you wanted to email me or something..”

He pauses. I look at him with a look that says “If you want to blow me off, you really didn’t need to put in this much effort.”

“I suppose I could get your number?” and he reaches in his pocket for his phone.

He types in my name and my number. He doesn’t call me to check it, so I don’t have his cell number.

He insists that we’ll have to get together soon. I agree, and say good night. I see Gety on the way out and say Good night and thanks for the drinks. Then I leave.

I honestly can’t find his card now by the way. So we’ll see if he calls.

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