My First Official Non-Date

I am out on a night I don’t want to be out. You know, those nights you’re leaning against the wall so long, you think you might actually be holding the wall up? A night when everyone around you is laughing, wearing beer goggles, or flat out swapping spit on the overzealous dance floor? Yes, it seems to be one of those nights. I am over the scene, not to mention the morning hours are approaching. I stopped drinking at least fifteen minutes ago and am spent with being out. I’ve had enthralling conversation with exactly zero guys, and, as always, I’ve been complimented on my hair by two girls - great. Can’t a guy ever love my hair?

Continuing to hold up the wall, I desperately scan the crowd for my friends. Even a $50 taxi ride is worth not standing here for another second. I peer through the dance floor, seeing the partially dressed women, now dancing with pools of sweat and makeup dripping down their faces. I am disgusted with the men performing their pelvic thrust moves behind these shamelessly drunk chicks.

That’s when I look up and see him walking towards me, unclothing me slowly with his eyes. He’s certainly cute, too! Remember, I haven’t been drinking for at least fifteen minutes, so my beer goggle vision must be 70/30, (you decide which way it swings). He has seducing eyes; hell they are undressing me! Plus a nice smile, a good grill you might say. And as I keep working my way up, I see his full head of naturally curly hair.

Seductively, this great hair, deep eye, straight grill man comes close enough to whisper in my ear, “I love your beautiful hair.” Now this is typically a hook, line and sinker for me. To say I am amused and slightly interested is an understatement. I guess I don’t need to take a taxi home right this second. I’ll at least hang around for one more beer, which I notice his buddy buys for me immediately.

His name is Kurt. He doesn’t seem overly intoxicated, and I quickly learn that he has just moved back into town after getting his heart broken. Awesome, how can I not want to help this bleeding heart? Kurt is unconvinced that he will ever find ‘the one’ with beautiful curly hair who has her shit together. Could this be a match made in heaven? I think so!

After two cold beers, which his friend bought for me, and an hour of relatively educated conversation, Kurt asks for my number. Just because I swore off giving out my number last weekend, doesn’t mean I should miss this golden opportunity. This is different. I’m not smashed for one. We haven’t had a sloppy make out session. I know what I am doing...by at least 70 percent! I give Kurt my number.

Kurt follows the rules and calls, suitably two days later. I follow the rules by letting it go to voicemail.

“Hey Jenny, this is Kurt. It was so wonderful meeting such a real girl, with, I must say, gorgeous curls. Let’s get together soon!” He proves to be persistent…and interested, following up later that same week, asking me out for the upcoming Friday.

“Of course!” I reply to my voicemail, “Yes! Thanks for asking!”

Kurt thinks we should meet at his house. I suppose I have the impression we’ll meet somewhere near my place. As he reminds me though, I do live a whopping thirteen miles away from the party center. It is better if I come his way. We agree to meet outside a popular little coffee house downtown.

While driving, fixing my makeup and glancing in the rearview mirror to separate my curls, my phone rings. “Hey can we just meet outside my house on the street and drive down together? Parking is really bad downtown.”

This makes sense in my head, or well it sort of does. Wait, does it make sense? “Sure, why not, I’ll come there.” Pulling onto his street, I spot Kurt standing on the sidewalk, hands in pockets, wearing an oversized leather jacket. Is that him? Hmmm, I don’t recall him looking like that. He looks a little bit creepy. Well let’s give this a shot. I’m trying to be open-minded, and after all, I am dating, right?

As I step out of my car, assuming he will drive, I hear, “Oh, I actually got a really great parking spot outside my house, and well, they are so hard to find late at night, would you mind driving?” Um, is this red flag number one or two? You decide since there are plenty more to come.

“Oh, okay, sure, no problem, hop in.” Kurt starts directing me to take a secret way downtown. Now most of you are probably thinking this is his way to conjure up pulling over in the dark for a high school make out session. But I’m quickly realizing that this guy doesn’t want to pay for parking and would rather walk 8 blocks to get to the bar.

“Let’s park up here and walk,” he says expectedly. “I could use the air, and it’s a great chance for us to talk and get to know each other before we get into a loud bar.”

“Okay I agree.” Ahh, that’s really kind of romantic! I happily begin to stumble the eight blocks. Why on earth did I wear these new shoes though? I can feel tiny blisters forming after the first block. Focusing on the pain in my feet, I try to multitask and listen to Kurt’s life story. The story is so moving, that to this day I can’t remember a single word of it.

Oh good, there it is! We are finally nearing ‘Kurt’s bar’ as he likes to call it. It’s a great little Sing-A-Long bar with two guys and a piano, who sing classics with so much heart the audience is forced to join in! However, the closer we get to the front door, the more aware I am of the panic setting into Kurt’s face. He is ferociously padding his pockets, looking in his leather jacket in distress. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Well I guess I forgot to get cash before coming down here, and it’s a $5 cover.” Well how could he have remembered, considering I drove? I’m sure it would have been an automated stop if we had been in his car. I shrug, so I’m out $10, big whoop!

“No problem, I’ll pay the cover and you buy inside, is that a deal?”

Kurt looks not only shocked, but rather enthralled. He quickly throws his arms around me, “Wow that is super cool; you are such a great girl!” YAY, this is going well! I’ve gotten my first compliment and barely had to go out of my way!

I pay the measly $10 for our cover, and we enter the party scene. The room is cheerful, with piano music and sing-a-long. It’s a modern day “Sound of Music”! Everyone is singing and clapping with smiling faces. This is going to be a lot of fun! At this moment I officially let my guard down and decide to allow myself to enjoy the evening.

As we make our way thru the crowd, I admire Kurt giving high five’s to every guy and girl in passing, shouting hello’s in all directions. What is he, Norm from “Cheers”? After a bit of searching, we find a table in the furthest corner. The service isn’t what you would call great. In fact, it’s downright awful. I sit, eagerly waiting for the waitress for 20 minutes, while Kurt continues his life story and I daydream of that first cool, refreshing, light beer touching my lips. Once the waitress arrives, I am not about to take chances.

“I will have two Miller Lights in bottles, please.” By ordering two I am actually helping the waitress, minimizing her having to come back so often!

“I’ll have two jack and cokes.” Okay, maybe this is good; he’s apparently not intimidated by my ability to drink. But ordering two hard alcohol beverages? This should be interesting. Despite my thinking that this date has already had some problems, it begins to get worse.

The waitress heads over to our table.

“Hey kids, can I get a credit card from one of you to start a tab?”

Again Kurt pads the pockets of his jacket and jeans, then slapping his hand to his forehead stresses, “I think I left my wallet at home on my nightstand! I honestly can’t believe this.” Yeah? Well I honestly can’t believe this either. Now I am in a catch 22. I am craving a beer so badly that I simply cannot leave without at least one, and yet I’m going to pay? Yes, that’s what I’ll do. He can buy dinner next time. There will be a next time, won’t there? Sure! Why wouldn’t there be? I’m obviously sweet and understanding. At which point I whip out my credit card.

“Here Miss, please just take mine.”

As the beer rejuvenates my belly and brain, I start to clap and sing along to the piano music. I may as well try to have a good time and enjoy these two beers I just treated myself to. Meanwhile, I notice that Kurt is continuously checking his cell phone, for what I am unaware. In any case, I am quietly contemplating the exit I will make as soon as I polish off my drinks.

Suddenly, grabbing his phone, Kurt stands abruptly, “Excuse me, I need to step outside and make a call.”

“Okkkkkaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy.” What on earth does this mean?

I sit at my corner table, feeling confused and very alone. I restrain the lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. How did this happen? How did I allow this again? Why on earth do I see so much good in everyone? Pull it together Jenny. He’s going to be right back, pull it together!

Fifteen minutes later, Kurt still hasn’t returned. Unfortunately who has returned is that damn waitress, who keeps bringing me beers two at a time without asking. However, I don’t exactly refuse them either. Not only now am I buzzed, but I’ve apparently been stood up amidst this date, and I’m about to fall apart in what must be the happiest bar on earth. An additional fifteen minutes go by, and I ask the waitress to close my tab. Looking up, I see Kurt saunter back with his shoulders down and his mouth hung low.

“What happened? Where did you go?” Kurt sits and stares at me questioningly. He looks as if he may even stand to physically hit himself in the head. I’m desperately looking around, back and forth, for the candid camera; this simply can’t be happening.

“Um, maybe I have the wrong impression here,” he says, pointing at himself, then me, “but are you and I…well, are we on a date?”

Need to read my reaction and what happens next? “No Job, No Car…No Problem!” to be released the summer of 2008…