So nothing that I anticipated happening last night actually happened...instead, I ended up on what would constitute as an accidental date with a 33 year old man I'd never met before.
From the beginning: Danielle found this event at the Franklin Institute for last night, which was pretty much quizzo on Cleopatra, but minus the drinking that usually comes with it (quizzo, not Cleo). So from what I knew previous to going, Danielle, Lisa, and myself were going to meet another woman, Erin, at the Franklin institute, we were going to play, perhaps have a drink, and leave to come home and get drunk in our living room, inevitably falling asleep to Bridget Jones. It's a fair thing to anticipate on a Friday night.
When we got there, Erin sitting on the steps to the building with this guy. We do the introductions, the hellos and niceties (he's a composer getting his PhD), and go inside to what was essentially a bingo hall/planetarium filled with nerds. I thought we might be in a hall, or maybe in front of the giant statue of Ben Franklin, with the cash bar advertised being a bit larger than a 18 x 30 inch table. But, as with anything, all we could do was make the best of it. Though, that sentiment grew more difficult when we got seated at a table with this older couple, who was lovely and well intentioned, but were sort of know-it-alls in a way that 55 year old people should not be. They came from Queens, NY, and read library books to prepare all day; sweet, just a bit annoying to be on a team with. Especially when everyone in our party was between the age of 23 and 34 and just wanted to goof off and gossip a bit. So the entire time this was happening, I chuckled to myself while being slightly checked out because if I actually invested my attention in the situation, I knew it would annoy me that an older, pot-bellied gentleman just kept talking over me while his wife chirped on about history and hoarded the answer sheet.
After four grueling rounds and a planetarium film about space narrated by Liam Neeson (which did make the concept of black holes all the more sexy), we had a second place victory (the prize being astronaut ice cream) and decided to go get some dinner and a drink. It was really the walk to dinner that started this thing between me and the composer. As we were waling towards center city, Danielle pointed out that we were passing Logan Square (which I had never seen), and we decided to cut through it. I started walking around the fountain in the middle of the park, and as everyone went to sit on a bench, I called out that I was going to finish my lap around the fountain; the composer followed. We started chatting, and ended up breaking off from the group (you know, the obviousbutnotexplicit tailing behind the main group) all the way to dinner.
He and Erin had been planning on going for drinks and then down to old city for salsa dancing, and while I wasn't planning on going out after the restaurant, quizzo just sent me into a I-need-to-go-dancing-and-let-off-some-steam frenzy. I tagged along with them, and danced with him all night, like three hours. Granted, we were two white, bookish types trying to dance to latin music, but still, despite the foibles and stepped-on feet, it was hot. Never in my life have I made eye contact with someone for THAT long without kissing them, at the very least. Holy crap. Talk about an exercise in self-control/foreplay. Man.
Erin left somewhere in the middle of this, and he and I stayed in the club until it closed at two, when we proceeded to walk back uptown. At this point, I was fairly certain that something would happen (Danielle told me this morning that she knew when we were walking around the fountain...foresight is better when it's objective, I guess). We were walking back arm in arm, it was all very cute, chatty, and so on, and somewhere around 12th street, I hear, "Hey, Muhlenberg! Hey you! Muhlenberg!" And I'm like, what's going on? It's nearing 3am; I shouldn't know anyone at that hour. I turned around, and it's this jersey shore-type Italian frat boy that was in my French class during my freshman year. I almost forgot his name.
We continued walking after that lovely bout of Muhlenberg nostalgia, and he FINALLY kissed me as we were walking across Walnut on 21st (not the best place to be distracted, but neither of us got him by a car, so that was good). I should interject here: recently, I've decided to start dating. Like actually dating and getting to know a person WHILE progressing physically with them. No more of these one night hook-ups (because truth be told, I can do it better myself). This means: a make-out, tops, upon first meeting. I've been struggling with this a bit, but I will say: I have never felt good after a one-nighter, and with the exception of one guy, I have wanted to bolt for the door every morning I've ever woken up next to someone.
With this in mind, we got back to my apartment, still kissing, and I go for a bottle of wine, trying to keep the whole thing, well, task-oriented, in a way. Does not work. So I say it, plainly and honestly. I think he was less than thrilled; so was I, but it was what I needed to do. (Although, I will say this: I have a HUGE hickey, like huge. I didn't realize the hickeys existed past your early 20's, but I guess they do.) He stayed until 4, when he woke me up and I let him out. How this will go, I have NO idea, but my expectations have remained within the confines of last night, so either way, it was a good Friday...
No comments:
Post a Comment