Sunday, July 06, 2008
We need to feel breathless with love, And not collapse under its weight
I am in Baltimore. I came down for the weekend with a friend, who was attending a wedding.
Trips like these are always a learning experience for me and Karen, as we assess people outside of New York's reactions to us.
As we waited for our table at P.F. Chang's the other night (yes, I know its a chain restaurant, but we all love it and we don't have it in NYC), we found ourselves in conversation with a particularly witty and charming white bartender. Him and I sparred over the amount of alcohol in my drink, and when he said to me, "so, can I have your number?" I found myself completely flustered.
I literally spluttered, "But, I live in New York."
I was not particularly dying to give this man my number. Yes, he was funny, but I wasn't attracted to him in any way, shape or form. Just then I was saved by a vibrating call button. Our table was ready!!! I rushed away to the hostess station, eager to have avoided having to deal with whether or not to give this man my number.
However, he didn't charge us for our drinks. And we had bolted out of there so quickly, we had not been able to give him a tip. I sent my friend, Maria, back with my tip money and she returned telling me how he had told her how hot he thought I was and how he knows I live in New York, but its not that far away, etc, etc.
As she told me this, I found myself blushing. No one EVER tells my friends to tell me that they think I'm hot. This is not something that happens to me. I'm generally the one relaying that message to my friends.
I found myself deciding to take a chance. I went back up t the bar and gave him my number.
He texted me later that night, asking me if I was still out. I was not. I was passed out cold. I had a mental debate in my head all day the next day, did I text him back or not? At dinner, I decided that it couldn't hurt and we'd at least have someone fun to hang out with that knows the area. So, I texted him, letting him know we would be out that night and offering to meet up with him. He told us where he was, so we went to go find him.
We found him at a bar on the harbor. He was with a couple of other people. He was a complete and total douchebag to us. He completely ignored us and exchanged numbers with another girl that was there directly in front of me. Karen and I were horrified. He spent the entire time that we were there talking to other people, and despite an initial inquiry into what I was drinking, never once made an attempt to actually OBTAIN a drink for me.
After 20 minutes, Karen asked me if I was ready to go. Um, YES. I wanted to bolt out of there. Having not been attracted to him at all, I wasn't upset over having lost an opportunity. But I was FURIOUS that he had treated me SO badly.
We left. And I sent him a text, "Please lose my number. I've rarely been treated so rudely."
He sent me back a text message claiming not to know what I was talking about and declaring that he is not a mean person.
Whatevs. I didn't write back. I didn't care enough to.
But am I interested in taking a chance again? Not really? Would I like to retreat further into my shell? Absolutely.
Today's title from: It's beginning to Get to Me by Snow Patrol
Trips like these are always a learning experience for me and Karen, as we assess people outside of New York's reactions to us.
As we waited for our table at P.F. Chang's the other night (yes, I know its a chain restaurant, but we all love it and we don't have it in NYC), we found ourselves in conversation with a particularly witty and charming white bartender. Him and I sparred over the amount of alcohol in my drink, and when he said to me, "so, can I have your number?" I found myself completely flustered.
I literally spluttered, "But, I live in New York."
I was not particularly dying to give this man my number. Yes, he was funny, but I wasn't attracted to him in any way, shape or form. Just then I was saved by a vibrating call button. Our table was ready!!! I rushed away to the hostess station, eager to have avoided having to deal with whether or not to give this man my number.
However, he didn't charge us for our drinks. And we had bolted out of there so quickly, we had not been able to give him a tip. I sent my friend, Maria, back with my tip money and she returned telling me how he had told her how hot he thought I was and how he knows I live in New York, but its not that far away, etc, etc.
As she told me this, I found myself blushing. No one EVER tells my friends to tell me that they think I'm hot. This is not something that happens to me. I'm generally the one relaying that message to my friends.
I found myself deciding to take a chance. I went back up t the bar and gave him my number.
He texted me later that night, asking me if I was still out. I was not. I was passed out cold. I had a mental debate in my head all day the next day, did I text him back or not? At dinner, I decided that it couldn't hurt and we'd at least have someone fun to hang out with that knows the area. So, I texted him, letting him know we would be out that night and offering to meet up with him. He told us where he was, so we went to go find him.
We found him at a bar on the harbor. He was with a couple of other people. He was a complete and total douchebag to us. He completely ignored us and exchanged numbers with another girl that was there directly in front of me. Karen and I were horrified. He spent the entire time that we were there talking to other people, and despite an initial inquiry into what I was drinking, never once made an attempt to actually OBTAIN a drink for me.
After 20 minutes, Karen asked me if I was ready to go. Um, YES. I wanted to bolt out of there. Having not been attracted to him at all, I wasn't upset over having lost an opportunity. But I was FURIOUS that he had treated me SO badly.
We left. And I sent him a text, "Please lose my number. I've rarely been treated so rudely."
He sent me back a text message claiming not to know what I was talking about and declaring that he is not a mean person.
Whatevs. I didn't write back. I didn't care enough to.
But am I interested in taking a chance again? Not really? Would I like to retreat further into my shell? Absolutely.
Today's title from: It's beginning to Get to Me by Snow Patrol
Posted by Chloe
at 11:14 AM |
Permalink to We need to feel breathless with love, And not collapse under its weight |
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