Posts tagged #crush

Riding In Cabs For Free

I can still remember the moment he walked into the room.

True to my winter promise to myself, I wasn't out carousing that night. In fact, I was essentially out in pajamas. Diarrhea Planet t-shirt, the ripped jeans I reserve only for horrible dates, my weirdest hipster glasses, and cowboy boots (for some odd reason). It was the Monday before Christmas.

I was out for a casual drink with my main squeeze. Nobody was around. We wanted to enjoy the bar without the scene that night. As usual, I didn't wash my hair.

But then there he was. She stopped, mid-sentence, interrupted herself to tell me, "Oh, so pretty."

I looked up and a gorgeous man was staring at me.

He maintained eye contact until he went downstairs with his friends.

I excused myself, distracted. "I'm going to go get another drink."

I spot the group of boys downstairs immediately. I saunter to the bar, order a club soda, with lime. (This is my drink, in-between drinking.)

And immediately neg him.

"What is this dude bus doing out tonight?" (There was no one else in the bar, because Christmas.)

Beautiful people aren't used to being mildly insulted by strangers. But I carry on until I trip.

"I mean, I didn't really need a drink. This is a water. I like your haircut."

He raised an eyebrow, but continued to talk to me until the bar closed anyway.

That night he drove me home, whizzing through every light. That should have been my first warning.


Fast forward to riding in a cab after Saturday day-drinking in full-dress lederhosen. He tells me about his Valentine's Day, how he took his date to the opera. He tells me about his favorite opera, the entire storyline. It is a heartbreaking love story, translated in Italian through the eyes of a German.

Instead of swooning, I interrupt, "Wait. Remember this moment. This is your story. This is your line! This is what you should tell women to make them fall in love with you."

He laughs, shakes his head. Pays for the cab, and immediately proceeds into a post-day-drinking nap.


The next time we hang out, we had half a bottle of whisky before the night even began. Sloshy, emboldened, and wild, we hit the town, hitting every bar on the way to a final, unknown destination.

I accept and imbibe a series of whisky, bourbon, and gin beverages at each pit stop. As we catch up with his roommates, everything is spinning: my head, my stomach, his smile. 

In between trips to the bar, he taps his cheek, asking for a kiss. I laugh and oblige on each occasion.

This continues until we both trip. "I'm really tired." "Yeah, me too. Let's go home."

Exhausted, we wait for a lull and quietly exit, leaving his friends at the bar. He hails a cab.

After an uneventful ride, he taps his phone on the payment thingy. Near field communication, he explains, Google Wallet.

Well, it doesn't work, and the cab driver quickly gets irate. 

"Do you want to see how to get away with not paying for a cab?" he slurs in my ear.

I offer to pay, quickly sobering up, not interested in getting arrested away from home. Not interested in getting arrested ever, really.

He steps out of the car. The driver gets out of the car. I get out of the car and stand on the opposite street corner, biting my lip, alternating with being slack-jawed at the unlikelihood of the entire situation.

I manage to capture a SnapChat of the moment, send it to my Single Person Spirit Guide as proof.


The whisky nearly erased the incident from my mind, until SPSG™ asked about it, the week after, upon my glorious return home.

We didn't pay for that cab that night--the cabbie started to swear. They started to scuffle, but there was really no question who would win. A beautiful victory for a beautiful man. I didn't say a word during the entire incident.

I went home soon after, glad I wasn't too ashamed to tell the tale.

"You GUYS! He beat up a cab driver."

Posted on July 30, 2014 and filed under Dating.

If I'm Being Totally Honest

If you tell the truth you don’t have to remember anything.
— Mark Twain

If I had to admit what are my weaknesses, interview style:

Poor sense of direction. Geography is not my strong suit. I have a terrible sense of intuition when taking spontaneous journeys or even when running errands. Before embarking on a round of errand-running, I make a list of all the things I need to do, places I need to go, items I need to purchase, and map out a route with the aid of my computer and common sense (groceries last, because perishables!).

Impatience. I tend to mobilize very quickly. If I've set out to go somewhere, do something, I'm ready to go. I don't like waiting on others to drag their feet. Also related to this: when empowered to do so, I am a steadfast decisionmaker. It's not that I  make snap judgments. Sometimes people become impatient with me in turn because it seems I am being indecisive. Quite the opposite. If I am quiet and thoughtful for a spell, I'm actually laying out all of the permutations, consequences, outcomes and selecting the very best one. Let's call it efficient.

Honesty. This is my Achilles' heel. I still haven't figured out if it was my upbringing (is it cultural?) or something ingrained in my personality that makes me so forthcoming. Blunt, rather. I've derailed conversations with a single keen, cutting observation. Some people don't bat an eye. Some are visibly ruffled. Some sputter, and inform me, "Look, people aren't used to being told things they've never realized about themselves."

I've been known to spout, at strangers, "You're really good looking." For normal people, this would result in embarrassment. For me, it's just a passing thought. "Did you know that your face is aesthetically pleasing?"

And so, considering, this next story doesn't seem totally unusual, not at first.


Some weeks ago, I walked into a coffee shop, disheveled and unkempt, undone from the night before, out on the town. Hangover be damned, I was out to finally make the acquaintance of someone new.

Related to said damned hangover, I was on a round of errands to pick up the pieces from my wild night. I literally lost my shit that night--the first stop was the bar, as both my jacket and wallet were missing from the night before. Then perhaps a coffee, perhaps to run into a new friend, but only if I was able to pay for it with the contents of a found wallet.

As some of you following my story clearly know, OkCupid wasn't working out. Not at all. But after totally closing that chapter of my dating life, I had handpicked one single somebody to continue talking to. Because I sensed that we were the same brand of weird, and that's a special and rare occurrence. I wanted to materialize this person from the Internet and into my life, to fold into my weekend plans, to share pitchers of beer on a patio and people watch with, to do strictly platonic dude things with.

Single Somebody and I had connected my very first few days on the service. I remember telling my Main Squeeze, "Oh! I like somebody. Let us scrutinize his online dating profile together." We messaged sporadically for weeks, both of us floating in and out of conversation. Plans to meet never quite solidify. I closed my account not even a month later. We continued the same pattern via text message. Plans still never quite solidify. Three months eventually pass.

He mentions where he will be for some hours Saturday following The Night I Literally Lost My Shit. My wallet goes from missing to found. Perhaps a coffee turns into definitely a coffee, plans laid, solidified. Because, three months is a long time to wait for somebody who typically makes a plan and is out the door to execute said plan in five minutes (i.e. me).

I have no qualms about meeting new people. In fact, I always look forward to bringing more good people into my life. But as I pulled up to the rendezvous point, my palms were sweating. I may have even had butterflies. No explanation, since there was no expectation for this meeting.

When I walked in, and said hello, and finally made eye contact with him, I knew all notions of just friends, just drinking buddies were a joke. Much like my appearance that day. My hands started shaking. I pretended they weren't, and launched into a we've-known-each-other-forever tone of voice, avoiding small talk. And then immediately slip up.

"You're much better looking in real life."

His mouth formed the shape of an "o."

He decided to hang out with me anyway.

Posted on March 19, 2014 and filed under Dating.