The Less Filtered Report
Of friday's exploits. Seriously? My life is really, really weird. I love it, but really. I'm trying to figure out how to relate the night without sounding like a slut or a raging narcissist. I'm neither, I swear, mostly just mildly bemused and running with it.
Between Umi and The Atomic Rooster, 4 different people tried to take me home friday night. Not counting my Hippy Poet who I'd planned to go home with all along, and did. I wasn't wearing a slutty t-shirt this time, and although I will concede my red dress is very pretty, I really don't think I am all that special. I'd love to know what it is I'm putting out there that makes these people think they want me.
First: tall, yummy, well made guitar player like something out of a 50s dream, another intense one, rather like ill fated Boy Number One, and this time I didn't ignore the alarm bells. Well, mostly didn't. He started flirting mid way through the night at Umi, and when things wrapped up, we stepped out together to talk for a bit. My plan was to give him my number and tell him he was welcome to call me for coffee. Aside from taking in the open mic, I was there to spend time with my Hippy Poet, and not interested in changing my plans for Mr. Intensity.
So a quick kiss for Hippy Poet, who took it all in stride, and I told him I'd be back in a sec. I have no idea what he was thinking, watching me walk up the street with Mr. Intensity, but he waited. I'm so glad he waited.
Before I had a chance to say a word, Mr. Intensity informed me that he had three questions he wanted to ask me, and he was going to be bold and take a chance. Hunh. So, I'm thinking "Are you single, are you interested, and can we get together sometime," cuz for all my worldly experience I'm still just kinda dumb.
Nope. Question number one was: "how far do you live, and do you have anything to drink at home?" Question number two was ... ummmmmmm, something of an explicit sexual nature that I cannot type without blushing. And I can't recall question number three, because, well! I responded with some evasive banter and I'm proud of myself for managing to maintain my composure and stand my ground, rather than beat a stammering retreat. The upshot is I let him know, to his utter bafflement, that I was not interested in taking him up on his offer without knowing a lot more about him (he really was very pretty, suspect he isn't turned down often). Then he kissed me a bit, maybe thinking he could change my mind, which was very nice, but really all I could think was this is not f. And f. - my Hippy Poet - was where I wanted to be.
Walked back up the block to Somerset, and Umi, said goodbye and bounded off, leaving Mr. Intensity genuinely confused behind me, I think.
Relieved to find Hippy Poet waiting for me with his friend who'd shown up for post Umi drinks.
The story goes on to encompass another boy, and a girl (separately) trying to pick me up at the Atomic Rooster, and one more girl who wanted to come home with me. More than anything I think she was looking for some mothering - and to be honest, I kinda wonder if that is what they are all looking for, to one degree or another. She kept asking me where I was headed when the bar closed, and I, being more than a little drunk myself, hadn't yet made up my mind, could only state with certainty that I was going where my Hippy Poet was going. As last call was winding down, we saw Little Girl Lost off in the safekeeping of her sister. I wandered happily home with f., where he played guitar and we talked into the wee hours of the morning. Y'know, and other stuff.
Between Umi and The Atomic Rooster, 4 different people tried to take me home friday night. Not counting my Hippy Poet who I'd planned to go home with all along, and did. I wasn't wearing a slutty t-shirt this time, and although I will concede my red dress is very pretty, I really don't think I am all that special. I'd love to know what it is I'm putting out there that makes these people think they want me.
First: tall, yummy, well made guitar player like something out of a 50s dream, another intense one, rather like ill fated Boy Number One, and this time I didn't ignore the alarm bells. Well, mostly didn't. He started flirting mid way through the night at Umi, and when things wrapped up, we stepped out together to talk for a bit. My plan was to give him my number and tell him he was welcome to call me for coffee. Aside from taking in the open mic, I was there to spend time with my Hippy Poet, and not interested in changing my plans for Mr. Intensity.
So a quick kiss for Hippy Poet, who took it all in stride, and I told him I'd be back in a sec. I have no idea what he was thinking, watching me walk up the street with Mr. Intensity, but he waited. I'm so glad he waited.
Before I had a chance to say a word, Mr. Intensity informed me that he had three questions he wanted to ask me, and he was going to be bold and take a chance. Hunh. So, I'm thinking "Are you single, are you interested, and can we get together sometime," cuz for all my worldly experience I'm still just kinda dumb.
Nope. Question number one was: "how far do you live, and do you have anything to drink at home?" Question number two was ... ummmmmmm, something of an explicit sexual nature that I cannot type without blushing. And I can't recall question number three, because, well! I responded with some evasive banter and I'm proud of myself for managing to maintain my composure and stand my ground, rather than beat a stammering retreat. The upshot is I let him know, to his utter bafflement, that I was not interested in taking him up on his offer without knowing a lot more about him (he really was very pretty, suspect he isn't turned down often). Then he kissed me a bit, maybe thinking he could change my mind, which was very nice, but really all I could think was this is not f. And f. - my Hippy Poet - was where I wanted to be.
Walked back up the block to Somerset, and Umi, said goodbye and bounded off, leaving Mr. Intensity genuinely confused behind me, I think.
Relieved to find Hippy Poet waiting for me with his friend who'd shown up for post Umi drinks.
The story goes on to encompass another boy, and a girl (separately) trying to pick me up at the Atomic Rooster, and one more girl who wanted to come home with me. More than anything I think she was looking for some mothering - and to be honest, I kinda wonder if that is what they are all looking for, to one degree or another. She kept asking me where I was headed when the bar closed, and I, being more than a little drunk myself, hadn't yet made up my mind, could only state with certainty that I was going where my Hippy Poet was going. As last call was winding down, we saw Little Girl Lost off in the safekeeping of her sister. I wandered happily home with f., where he played guitar and we talked into the wee hours of the morning. Y'know, and other stuff.