For the last few weeks, I’ve taken you on a little journey that started with two guys in a bar (this is the beginning of the story, so if you’re new around here, start with this post), and has led to a very serious flirting problem that included a lot more waiting than I would have preferred. Well, not that this should surprise you, based on what you know about my dating experience, but it took another month before I messaged The Grown Up again.
I had been seeing another gentleman caller, who was attractive, kind and okay to be around…I nicknamed him McDreamy during our brief time together, but he wasn’t entirely deserving of the name. He was what you might refer to as pretty, but dumb. He was about as intellectually stimulating as a carrot.
So I was looking for something a little more. Something with substance. SomeONE with substance…someone with half a brain.
And so I messaged The Grown Up.
This was our longest conversation to date. I think we chatted for a few hours that fateful evening.
I sent him a tongue-sticking-out emoji, because I wasn’t terribly clever when it came to starting chatversations. It was shortly after St Patrick’s Day, and I worked at an Irish bar, so it seemed logical for him to ask me about it. And for once, I was actually kind of letting him in.
TGU: How was St Patricks day? Nightmare crowd?
Me: I didn’t work.
They hate me.
Me: They didn’t schedule me.
So I went out drinking all day 😀
TGU: Do you seriously think they hate you?
But, it was okay because I went to my local watering hole dive pub that was filled with people I knew and liked.
I had a happy little corner and people came to me.
I was going to impress him with my barfly popularity. That always worked. Why I felt the need to tell him my job essentially sucked, I’ll never know. But he took it to a whole new level.
TGU: So are you Norm, or Cliff Clavin, or Sam Malone?
Me: Well, my brother is Norm.
He walks into the bar and everyone is all “WOJ!”
TGU: Frasier? Woody?
I considered explaining to him that I was a lady and didn’t want to be a boy character…
Me: I’m more Diane
Dude, I chose Diane because she was the pretty nice one.
Me: Hmmm maybe Kirstie Alley’s character?
Not really, but what other ladies were on that damn show?
I know. You’re right. But I can’t even…wait! I know!
TGU: She was definitely better than Diane
Carla was awesome
Me: I’m a sassy pants.
I’m the hilarious one.
TGU: hahaha… always awesome when people think they’re the funny one… hahaha
Although I don’t remember you laughing at your own jokes, so you’re probably OK.
I just get told that I’m funny all the time.
I don’t always think I’m that funny…I just talk a lot
Oooh he thinks I’m funny!
TGU: So, did you have a good time last night?
Finally! My chance to shine again. Stupid pre-dating questions.
TGU: you don’t even remember do you?
Me: I do too!
TGU: All some kind of greenish blur.
Me: I maintained a pleasant buzz throughout the evening.
That’s the best way to do it.
Functional but fun.
It was at this point, I believe, The Grown Up decided he might actually be interested in me. I didn’t realize it for…well…a while. I’m not very observant…
TGU: <nerd talk>hey, did you ever take a Myers-Briggs test? </end nerd talk>
Me: LOL yes.
He was adorably nerdy. He used freakin’ code speak. I loved him. And, for the record, I generally hate personality tests. HATE. THEM. A lot. But I just went la-de-da a boy might like me la-de-da sure I’ll take your stupid test…
TGU: did I already ask you this?
Is this really a thing you do?
Me: No, I just really liked the nerd talk interjection.
True story. Loved <nerd talk>.
The Grown Up went on a long discussion of personality types, but I’ll spare you the details. You’re welcome.
And then The Grown Up started talking about a girl he dated who fell into that category (although not dumb, just an “S” versus and “N”). I refrained from talking about my “McDreamy” because I didn’t think talking about one’s current prospects with another of one’s current prospects was in good taste. I merely mentioned that I didn’t feel guilty about categorizing the “pretty but dumb.”
TGU: We should hang out some night, so I can see you in person when you’re not working. What does your schedule look like next week?
Now THAT’S a sure thing. Asking about schedules means a date will finally fucking happen.
And just like that, I had a date with The Grown Up. Honestly, it only took three fucking months. Whatever. It was game. On. We exchanged phone numbers and he promised to plan a whole date. I was impressed and excited. I was usually the one who had to come up with an itinerary. All I had to do was pick out a killer outfit and make him fall in love with me. Easy peasy, my friends.