So I was all set to write about another topic for this week…but then I got a very interesting FB friend request. I had to check the profile to confirm that it was actually that guy friending me.
Because I never knew his last name.
I received this invite while I was running out to door to an election party turned condolence party and it was probably one of the very few things that could make me pause and laugh out loud. Morbid curiosity made me accept.
So why was this so funny? Well I’m glad you asked. Let’s back up to 4 years ago.
I was recently out of grad school and in a prestigious fellowship (read: broke and single AF). I finally had time and (relatively more) money to (slightly) spare, so I hit up OK Cupid. I was messaged by a cute guy with a high match percentage, and we agreed to meet sooner than later, which is how I prefer internet dating to go. He told me that his favorite restaurant is one of the super high priced elite places in the city I live in, so we should go there.
Um…ok…hope you’re paying, buddy!!
Fortunately, prior to my decision to go to grad school, I had a very large income, and I had splurged on pricey stylish clothes, so I could dress the part. I felt pretty good in my boots that cost as much as my old Boston rent, perfectly fitting jeans, and dressy but not (too) slutty top. I even busted out my fancy make up and managed an updo for my hair.
Yep. I was ready. I felt beautiful and ready for a fun night.
Until I was walking in the front door of the restaurant and fate punched me square in the tit: a rain gutter emptied itself on my fucking head. Like, water, dirt, leaves, and small sticks were all over me.
Are you fucking kidding me?!
Passersby got a solid laugh. And the personal waiter for my date (yeah, you read that right) raced over and exclaimed all over how awful that was. He was a gem and helped me get all the shit out of my hair, fixed my mascara, and we used a hand dryer on my shirt.
Though this isn’t a trait I have now, I used to be early for everything. For that moment, I am still So Glad I was early.
Before we could do more with my wet hair than shove some bobby pins back in it to get it looking tolerable, the waiter nudged me hard and whisked me over to my date who just walked in. My date narrowed his eyes, and hesitantly said my name with a question mark at the end. I nervously exclaimed “yeah!! So nice to meet you!!”
His response: um…I thought you were blond?
Yeah. He’s one of those guys. The guys who want a hot blond on their arm and that’s it.
That was the sink or swim moment for the night, and the ball was squarely in my court. I straightened up, laughed, and said “Ha! Yeah! A fucking rain gutter emptied itself on my head and my hair looks darker wet! What are the fucking odds? Crazy, right? You know what? Let’s DRINK!!”
The waiter gave a small thumbs up and seated us before my date could really respond.
You know what the best part was? We hit it off. I gave zero fucks, and he only wanted a platinum blond, so the pressure was off. We traded stories and jokes for the next few hours and the date ended in a win.
We wound up going out once more, and I took him to his very first dive bar. It took a few pitchers, but he relaxed and managed to loosen his tie and have a fun night there. Soon after, I met a lovely human who I dated for the next bunch of months, and I had not heard from this guy again. But I never held any grudges, and actually wound up with a soft spot for him. I feel like I had somehow opened up his eyes to what else is actually out there on so many levels, and he was open to it.
I have no anticipation around us dating–we come from such different worlds that I do not have any interest in that. But sitting down for a drink with dry hair at a reasonably priced bar with him sometime sounds like a fun time.