A Petite Man (Part 1)
Times have been tough lately so my girlfriend, Sam, offered to set me up on a date with her boyfriend’s friend. Since I haven’t been out on a date in a while, I agreed before I even heard anything about the guy. I should have said no when Sam used the word petite to describe him. Uh, what the hell does that mean? Am I going out with a midget? Or is this a really tiny guy who will inevitably have a really tiny wiener (I mean, come on, guys are typically pretty proportionate). I’ve had my fair share of tiny wieners so I’m not looking to get involved with another one. In fact, a few weeks ago I told some friends, I don’t have sex with a guy, I have sex with their dick… Now I know that sounds awfully slutty of me, but in my defense, I was fairly intoxicated at the time and I’ve become much less promiscuous in my old age so I may just be all talk.
Anyway, back to the petite man… I saw a picture of him on facebook and thought he looked alright (but who doesn’t in their profile pictures??). I told Sam she could give him my number. A few days later Sam told me that her friend remembers meeting me at a Christmas sweater pub-crawl. Fucking great. I was in rare form that night. I spent most of that night pounding pitchers of PBR and chasing around a sailor who was home on leave for the holidays. Toward the end of that night, I puked in the bathroom of the bar and managed to get the sailors number from a mutual friend. I text the sailor this message at 3am: I want you to come with me to St. Johns. I want to get naughty with you in my bosses house, in her room, in her bed. I’m going to put it all out there and if you’re not cool with that, then fine. But why leave any mystery to what I want (Note: I happen to be house-sitting for my boss who lives a solid 30minute drive from where we were drinking). Unfortunately I never saw the sailor again this Christmas… but that’s not the story we’re talking about. So the petite fellow remembers me like that and still wants to go on a date? Hmm… OK.
For some reason the petite man wanted to go on a double date. Now, I’ve been on a few blind dates and they can be pretty awkward (especially when you decide to meet at a bar and you walk in not knowing if they are there yet and then your mind starts to race about whether you should walk around the bar looking for someone sitting alone and if so how much time do you spend looking or if you should just go up to the bar and order yourself a drink then coyly look over the top of you drink while you pray to God that the guy wearing a jean jacket who just walked in is not your date) but this seems rather junior high to me. After several failed attempts on Sam’s part to coordinate the date via email, I got tired of all the bullshit and hit reply all that the petite fellow could call me if he wanted to meet me for a drink. Sam is constantly giving me dating advice; telling me that if I want to get a guy I need to act less interested and more reserved…clearly I don’t follow her advice very well so I was pretty sure she was not going to approve of my email. Later that day the petite man called me and suggested we meet at a dive bar near his house later in the week. I was hesitant but excited after our phone conversation. He sounded really sweet and confident and most importantly, he laughed at my jokes. The week before, I had gone to see a psychic for various life reasons and she told me (with a great deal of certainty) that I was going to be “settled” with a partner (assuming she means a man) within two years. In the back of my mind I kept thinking that this guy could be him. I felt very unsure about that possibility. I mean, I wanted to have some consistent, meaningful, ridiculously awesome sex but I wasn’t sure if that translated into me having a husband. I knew that I would just know instantly if he were the one the psychic was referring to… continue to Junior (Part 2)
