Earlier this week, I was sent a one-line message that did not contain proper grammar. Normally, that is a dealbreaker, but I liked the thumbnail picture of the guy's face so I clicked on it.
Hello, Six-Pack.
As I tend to go for the underfed hipster with just enough tummy to love type, I was intrigued. After Rock confirmed that the pictures were definitely not Photoshopped, I sent Six-Pack a message saying what's up. We agreed to meet for a drink Saturday at my favorite neighborhood dive bar.
I was fully intending to vet him and make sure he wasn't a serial killer (I've watched way too much 48 Hours, aka Don't Be a Single Woman Who Enjoys Sex Or YOU WILL DIE), and then take him home with me. Even if I got a weird feeling, I was probably at least going to make out with him at the bar. I arranged for a friend to call at midnight and make sure everything was okay.
I got there at 9, our designated meeting time. At 9:15, I knew he wasn't coming.
Now, to be fair, I'm not sure what happened. On Thursday night after we'd decided on a date and time, I messaged him asking for his cell phone number. I'm not a big phone person, but I like to have this before a date so I can call or text if I'm running late (which I usually am). Never heard back. Granted, I just moved, as did half of my city, and I don't yet have Internet at home: in fact, I had to send this last message from Rock's computer. It could very well be he's in the same situation and only has sporadic access to OKCupid. Maybe something did happen and he had no way of getting ahold of me.
Or maybe he's just a jackass who got a better offer.
Either way, I decided to wait another 15 minutes, as I was enjoying sitting around and drinking a beer.
Then, a very cute guy walked into the bar. He was alone, and appeared to be waiting for someone. I was pretty sure it wasn't Six-Pack, but there was a little resemblance, and sometimes people look different from their pictures. And if it really was Six-Pack, maybe he hadn't seen me yet.
A year ago this totally wouldn't have happened. Last night, I took a chance.
I took myself and my beer to the stool next to him.
"Excuse me," I said, "but has anyone ever told you, you look like Hunter Parrish?"
(He totally did, by the way.)
So it wasn't Six-Pack. But HP was a nice guy who is an artist and has three other jobs, who had just come from a concert and was waiting for his (male) friend. We had a fun little conversation (during which the word "girlfriend" didn't come up at all), and after he got a text from his friend asking him to meet elsewhere, I decided to walk out with him. I didn't tell HP my exact situation, just that I was waiting for someone too and I didn't think they were going to show.
Before we parted ways, he gave me his card.
And those weren't the only digits I scored yesterday.
Besides seeing each other at work, Jim Berger and I have been emailing back and forth for over a week. Just little things: our weekend plans, joking/bitching about work, etc. He contacted me yesterday, recommending a play, and saying he should have asked me to join him as he had a free ticket and his friend bailed at the last minute.
Seeing my opening, I emailed back: "For next time, or if you find yourself stranded at the movies: [my phone number]."
Less than two hours later, I get a reply: "Your number is now in my phone, so expect calls if I'm stranded. Or otherwise." Also, his number.
I have no idea where this is going.
I can't wait to find out.
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