Interesting end to the week. Friday night I had a date with the Half Asian Hipster, only he isn’t actually a hipster and he’s more a martial arts trained entrepreneur with a really comfortable bed. Yes, I said bed. Now, before you start thinking naughty things… let me start at the beginning of the day.
Brooklyn and I had some heavy back and forth emails Friday morning. They needed to happen. Things had gotten strange since we *almost* had sex and they weren’t getting less strange. More on this next post.
So, I was glad that I had made a date for the evening with the no-longer known as Half-Asian Hipster, now known as Martial Arts Trained Entrepreneur. I needed distraction and fun. We met at the bar a half hour after the time we had planned, he with traffic issues, me with train issues. We had two drinks there, oh and I think he made us do a shot. Hmm, three drinks there. Oof, now I am understanding what happened. So, I feel fine, he is nice, way more muscular in person than he looked on-line. Kinda shocked by that. It made sense as the night went on and he explained how he grew up partly with his mom in Japan and was raised talking Kendo and various other martial arts. This body strength came in handy at the 4.5 hour mark of our date.
Anatomy of a What Was I Thinking night of bar hopping:
Venue 1: 9:00-10:30 Drank two Dark and Stormies and some shot called a tic-tac ? (Wait, I am 35, did I really just do a shot?!) Hmm, what to do next. We drove back to his neighborhood to check out some dj’s. We parked his car in his complex, dropped his jacket at his place and headed to the next bar.
Venue 2: 11:00-11:20 Drank one Dark and Stormy and a shot of Patron. (Wait, ok, shit, was that another shot he just handed me? ) DJ was lame. Left
Venue 3: 11:35-12:00 Walked down the street to check out one of my favorite venues but there was a line out the door. I don’t do lines for *possible* admittance. Not since I was 14 years old and sneaking into clubs with a fake ID. Somehow on our way back to check a different venue, the conversation shifted to something about height. So, next thing I know, we are both barefoot on the street corner kissing. Hmm, ok. We put our shoes back on and end up in another bar. I order us a drink, asking the bartender to just make us something rummy and tasty. While I am waiting, a strange troll of a man standing next to me starts chatting me up. The man actually looked a bit like a taller Gollum, with better teeth. Why was the bartender taking so long to make this tasty drink? When it finally arrived, I wondered if I said tasty at all to him, unless, I guess, battery acid is tasty to him, because the drink was vile. So, my date , whose nickname here spells MATE in its acronym, HA HA HA, he and I opted to go back to the 2nd venue because it was better than this place with Gollum and the drinks from hell.
Back to Venue 2: 12:15- ? One more Dark and Stormy. Some dancing. A little flirting. Some occasional kisses.
This is what I remember. What I lost is us leaving the bar at closing, not grabbing my blazer that I had tossed under the table to make sure it didn’t get anything spilled on it where I was dancing, walking back to his place. Knowing we needed time for him to sober up before driving me home and my deciding that laying down for a second was a great idea.
Things come back right at the moment I feel myself about to vomit, he THANKFULLY happens to be standing near me and quickly picks me up (remember how I talk about him being strong?) and carries me into the bathroom. (The next time I leave the bathroom, it’s nearly light out.) Soon after my entering the bathroom, he leaves and comes back some shorts, a t-shirt and leaves the room so he can let me get undressed. I guess I hit the white pants a bit, so he offered to wash them for me. I spent a few hours curled up in a ball in my underwear in his shower with the hot water running on my back. When the hot water ran out, I shut it off and just laid there. He came in and draped towels over me to keep me warm because I wasn’t ready to get out yet. He went to bed and I alternated between 20 minute naps on the cold tub bottom and waking up to vomit. It was a glamorous moment in my life. Eventually the stomach settled enough that I could crawl out of the tub, strip out of my cold wet undies and into his shirt and shorts. I brushed my teeth with the toothbrush he left me, thank god for small miracles, and CRAWLED out of the bathroom, across the floor and into the bed. Amazingly comfortable bed.
We woke up to the most gorgeous day of the year so far and he ran off to get me a venti iced green tea and a Kind Bar from Starbucks as I struggled to sit up and face the world. I felt good, surprisingly. Then I went to have a pee and got the spins and threw up three more times while he was gone. He came back to find me back in the bed but facing a different direction. The tea was well appreciated, the Kind Bar was not loving my stomach after the two small bites, so that hung out elsewhere. We laid there and talked for a half hour and I really felt like a shower would help me so he left me alone and did some work stuff while I threw up two more times and then showered. I came out of the shower far more alive than I had been feeling in nearly 8 hours.
The sun streamed into his apartment and felt nice coming through the open windows. I sat on the couch and let him finish his phone conversation as I sipped on my green tea with my once again brushed teeth (This was third time brushed in 14 hours!). I remembered that I had made a cocktail date with someone off the dating sites for 1:00 pm. That wasn’t happening. The thought of cocktails anytime in the next month sounds awful and the reality that I would be the worst date in history for two men in one weekend if I showed up, made me cancel. I feigned food poisoning. Food poisoning might get me a rain check, telling him that I am dead sick at some other date’s house, wearing said other date’s clothes and not moving anytime soon due to the sheer amount of alcohol I consumed the night prior, that would NOT get me a rain check. In case you were counting, 7 cocktails, including the two shots, on very little food. Foolishness.
MATE and I sat around for another hour while my clothes from the previous night finished washing, we played some Katamari, he smoked some pot (I’m not a fan but to each their own if it’s in moderation), I vomited one last time, brushed one more time and finally got around to eating my Kind Bar before getting into my own clothes and getting driven home. It was a beautiful day and I missed the majority of it. My dog waited at the door angry at the lack of breakfast and the absence of bathroom breaks over such an extended period of time. I couldn’t get into a car and go home before I knew I wasn’t going to vomit once in the moving car. I’m sorry puppy, I really am.
So, the remainder of the weekend became a series of naps, reintroduction of food and conscious avoidance of texting or calling Brooklyn. Sigh. TGIM