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(because there's nothing else to do)

the case of the backward date...

ok. per my last entry, i really *was* going to do a bit more soul searching before I even dipped so much as a toe back in the proverbial dating pond. Or "non-dating" pond. Or "pond of casual sex" even. But then my car caught on fire & by Saturday all bets were off.

a) I wasn't driving and therefore my BAC level wasn't a concern
2) I was in a state of emotional distress much deserving of mass quantities of alcohol
d) Fresh drinks kept appearing as if by magic
and
5) I knew full well I would be out past the last train (which leaves GCS at a measly 1:30 am) and hadn't yet secured a couch for the evening.

So... by Midnight on Saturday I was at Movida boozing it up at the One Louder party with the likes of Stew, Jed, Lawrence, Greg, Nora, Barbara & Nico (all the while enjoying the exquisite 80's/Indie/Techno infused selections of Peter, Michael SS* & Nina). As the hours wore on I watched my "places to crash" options dwindle (the nggb was out of town, as was half-pint, and Ms. Daisy had other, more appealing company for the evening). until finally it was agreed that my drunk ass would have a home on Nora's couch. Excellent. With that settled, we turned our attention across the street to the unwieldy crowd that had formed outside Luke & Leroy's. Intrigued, we dashed across South 7th, flashed a smile in Thomas' direction & scurried past the throngs of tragically hip co-eds waiting for the velvet ropes to part on their behalf. Misshapes was PACKED. Nora, Barbara & I claimed a tiny corner of the dance floor, and as soon as we started to move - there were boys in our airspace. I wasn't particularly bothered by our new friends, but I was rather thirsty, so I offered the girls a round and started to make my way downstairs, only apparently my new dance partner wasn't having that. He convinced me to finish out the song with him, and then accompanied me on my quest for alcohol. This, of course, involved making out at the bar. (the fact that i'm reporting this makeout session now makes it necessary for me to christen the boy. I've spent almost an hour deliberating - particularly since I was afraid that should he find himself reading along he might be offended by my selection. But I'm SO tickled by what I've come up with that I can't imagine calling him anything else. So without further ado... Random boy from Misshapes shall henceforth be known as Bubba. Yes, Bubba. Deal with it.) Bubba helped me cart the drinks back up to the dance floor where... Nora and Barbara were no longer. This kicked off an extensive search of the premises wherein I questioned various mutual acquaintances, but to no avail. The girls were nowhere to be found (funny how when you OUGHT to drunk dial someone you tend to forget the existence of cell phones), and Bubba and I collapsed into the downstairs couches wherein we resigned ourselves to finishing the girls' drinks and making out some more. Our rather public display of affection prompted cries of "get a room" from Lawrence... and being in a highly suggestive state, we did just that. (Well, not in the traditional sense... I mean it's not like we ran out & rented a room at the Tribeca Grand) We staggered back to his place hand in hand, giggling incessantly & stopping abruptly for the occasional bout of tonsil hockey along the way. You could make a case for it being romantic in it's own, skewed way... what with the cobblestone and the river and the warm night air and the hand holding... there was an element to it that was more giddy and coy than blatantly sexual, which just made it - nice.

His place... was a wreck. Which I found absolutely charming, seeing as I, myself, am a ridiculous slob. My recollection of the evening's festivities is fuzzy at best, but they seemed to have ended rather well by the time the sun was creeping up over the twillage, and our sleepy little heads collapsed onto his pillows in delight. When I awoke hours later by his side, I didn't even think to quietly steal away, (I know - huge breakthrough for me and I didn't even notice that I hadn't thought about bolting until I went to tell Ashley my story later that evening) instead i blinked my eyes into focus and began to lazily decode what I could from the room... Before long, he was awake too and we smiled sheepishly at one another before I bit the bullet and made sure I hadn't fabricated his name... I hadn't . He sheepishly hid his head in his pillow and groaned, "you so have one up on me there".
I laughed and re-introduced myself, he blushed, pretended to remember, and pulled me closer.

"So Bubba... I see we have a little Proust, some Glamorama, a healthy Warhol collection..."
he smiled and noted that there was much to be learned about him from his walls,
"and that guitar on the wall? Does it just look pretty? Or do you play?"
he played.
"you're soooo in a band aren't you"
we erupted into giggles
"you ARE! you ARE in a band!"
(of COURSE he was. as if I could ever, even unknowingly, sleep with someone who wasn't a musician)
he admitted to "messing around with a few musically inclined friends"
"come on... give it up. what's your BAND name?"
it was something about colors... I wish I could remember it

We talked and talked and talked.
About books and movies and music, about misshapes, about our families. He brought us water and advil, cranked up the a/c and we talked some more. I told him about my flammable car and why I actually had an overnight bag... he did his best to explain how he wound up wearing my favorite polar bear boxers. We laughed, we kissed, we collapsed in a sweaty heap after round two (I should take this opportunity to note that the boy is quite talented. he busted out some deliciously fabulous trick, and yeah - my smile lasted all morning). He hugged me an said "that's the spirit" when I acquiesced that I didn't really have to be anywhere and could stay for a while. We napped. He showered, i brushed my teeth. I showered, and there was iced coffee waiting for me when I was done. He flipped through the paper looking for something for us to do - and we settled on some Bastille Day festivities, until I remembered that my ATM card was being held captive at Luke & Leroy's. We opted to take a stroll down by the water where we checked out the people, the "misting area", a dog park and some very Twain-esque steam boats before heading back to the bar (where yes, my card was returned to me once I signed for my bill). After milling about in the village for a while, we stopped at the cutest little place with the hugest menu you've ever seen for brunch. Bubba ordered up a "Sneaky Pete" and I settled on a Country Scramble of Turkey Sausage, cheddar & tomato (i tried to substitute potato... but that was apparently prohibited). Brunch was brilliant. The food, the trivial pursuit cards, the wacky brother & sister wait-staff team. We talked and stuffed ourselves until they locked the doors & only then were we on our way. We stopped on the corner under a bit of shade and he announced he was going to head back home, I nodded and admitted it was high time I set about finding my friends. And then it happened. Bubba asked for my number. And my last name. And immediately called my phone so I'd have his. (yes, he was googled the minute I got my hands on a computer) We kissed goodbye, smiled, turned, and each walked off into the blazing sun.

So yeah. I know.
It's supposed to go "digits - call - meal - conversation - sex", and i went more along the lines of "sex - conversation - meal - digits - call"...
but I actually have the strangest feeling I might hear from him again.
Which I think I'd like.
Very much.











Comments

( 1 spanking — spank your inner moppet )
(Deleted comment)
brainwavy
Jul. 22nd, 2005 07:38 pm (UTC)
::sigh:: I wish the VV was looking for that instead of a music blog...
( 1 spanking — spank your inner moppet )