Wednesday, May 24, 2006
One Moment in Time
We called each other about 10 times in the 20 minutes before 7:00 pm, our agreed upon meeting time.
"Are you there yet?"
"I'm here, where the fuck are you?"
"Which blocks is it between?"
"Are they showing the Mets game?"
"Don't order until I get there!"
And finally, after months of only text messaging, emailing and a few phone calls, Email Boy and I were in each other's presence again for Happy Hour Martini night. We peruse the martini menu, he starts out with a Cosmo, and I get the Black Rasberry. We are attempting to decide on something to eat, but we can't stop talking to each other long enough to look at the menus. Conversation flows and flows and flows. He tells me about his psychotic ex-girlfriend (I have ALWAYS wanted to know that story) and I tell him about losing my virginity. Another round of martinis.
He quizzes me on baseball knowledge after I make a 'tagging up' reference and he is suitably impressed.
Then, another round of martinis.
He tells me that he saves all of my text messages. So he doesn't lose any of them, he downloads them onto his computer, because sometimes, when he's bored, he likes to read through them. Apparently, I am the only person who gets the 8 am text messages.
And another round of martinis.
We are both relatively bombed. We've been talking about sex for the last hour (interspersed with rants and raves about the Mets game).
It's time to go home. We make plans to do it again in 2 weeks time.
The whole point of the evening was that I was taking HIM out for his birthday. When the check comes, a scuffle ensues over who is paying. He is stronger than me, so he wins. What the fuck is that about? Why was he paying for his birthday drinks?!?!?
I get home and check out myspace, because I know he's already left me a comment on my page. Sure enough, there it is.
I love him.
"Are you there yet?"
"I'm here, where the fuck are you?"
"Which blocks is it between?"
"Are they showing the Mets game?"
"Don't order until I get there!"
And finally, after months of only text messaging, emailing and a few phone calls, Email Boy and I were in each other's presence again for Happy Hour Martini night. We peruse the martini menu, he starts out with a Cosmo, and I get the Black Rasberry. We are attempting to decide on something to eat, but we can't stop talking to each other long enough to look at the menus. Conversation flows and flows and flows. He tells me about his psychotic ex-girlfriend (I have ALWAYS wanted to know that story) and I tell him about losing my virginity. Another round of martinis.
He quizzes me on baseball knowledge after I make a 'tagging up' reference and he is suitably impressed.
Then, another round of martinis.
He tells me that he saves all of my text messages. So he doesn't lose any of them, he downloads them onto his computer, because sometimes, when he's bored, he likes to read through them. Apparently, I am the only person who gets the 8 am text messages.
And another round of martinis.
We are both relatively bombed. We've been talking about sex for the last hour (interspersed with rants and raves about the Mets game).
It's time to go home. We make plans to do it again in 2 weeks time.
The whole point of the evening was that I was taking HIM out for his birthday. When the check comes, a scuffle ensues over who is paying. He is stronger than me, so he wins. What the fuck is that about? Why was he paying for his birthday drinks?!?!?
I get home and check out myspace, because I know he's already left me a comment on my page. Sure enough, there it is.
I love him.
Labels: Email Boy
