So this past weekend I met my friend Joe for dinner. Joe has been my rock, on the male front, for years. We can go months without seeing each other or talking to each other, but somehow, we always pick up like we had never left off. He is someone that I dated briefly, years ago, but the timing just wasn’t right for us. If I were being honest, I would say that we make better friends than we do boyfriend/girlfriend.
Joe knew I needed a pick me up this weekend and he was ready to be there for me. I can always count on him to be honest with me all of the time, whether I want to hear it or not. Turns out that he is almost always right about the men I date. At dinner, he reminded me over and over again that Mr. Perfect for Me would break my heart, and he did. He begged me not to give up on Hot Fireman so quick because he swore he was just a guy that was in a transitional phase, turns out I think he was right about both.
But we all know, patience is not my forte.
In recent years my friendship with Joe has moved from platonic friendship to being each others “plus one” when the occasion arrives. You see, he has the most fabulous fiancé, but she doesn’t live here in town. In fact she doesn’t even live in the USA, but that is about to change, they are getting married in May and he will be moving to London. As happy as I am for them, I know I will probably never see him again once he gets married. And that makes me sad.
Our dinner this past weekend consisted of many things, lots of laughter, a few tears, and a little reminiscing of the past. He reminded me of the story of his best friends wedding. I don’t think I shared it with you yet.
It is a must read…and it goes a little something like this...
The afternoon of Sven’s (Joe’s best friend) wedding Joe and I met for drinks downtown at a five star steakhouse famous for their shrimp cocktail and “men’s club atmosphere.” Joe thought it would be great for me to surround myself with single men who loved cocktails and cigars.
We stood at the bar for what seemed like hours drinking. There was a lot of laughter as we shared stories of the past. Stories like the one where he ended up on a train with nothing but his underwear and a Costco membership card, or the one where I, at 35, got busted in the parking lot for making out with a guy in his truck. Yes it was your classic…windows steamed up with nothing but the shine of a police officers flashlight in the window…sooooo high school.
During our conversations at the bar, there were several times that Joe mentioned to me that he noticed a certain tall good looking guy looking at me. I, of course, was totally oblivious to my surroundings. As we had a couple of more drinks, I too noticed this nice looking man eying me. So I did what every normal girl would do, I looked back, checked his ring finger and gave myself permission to flirt back.
After three drinks at the bar, we paid our bill and left. I thought my flirting days were over. But low and behold, guess who was a guest at the same wedding I was a “plus one” at? Yep, the good looking guy from the bar. At the reception, we were of course, seated at the head table in the front corner of the restaurant. As uncomfortable as I was sitting at the head table as a “plus one” I was glad that I wasn’t sitting at a table with all the other “plus ones”. As Joe was attending to the duties of a Best Man, noticed said cute guy from the bar was seated with his friends, only tables away from ours. All night long he kept eyeing me. Every once in a while I would acknowledge him, but then I would shy away. Joe kept challenging me to walk up to him and strike up a conversation, but we both knew I wouldn’t, that’s not my style. I never make the first move. But it was obvious to both Joe and I that this guy was definitely interested in me.
And then it happened, my liquid courage kicked in. I got all warm and fuzzy every time the good looking guy would look up at me and catch a glance. So I strapped on some balls and went to the ladies room where I fluffed up my hair, put on a little lipstick and ran through a spray of perfume. As I walked back into the reception I made sure to walk by this guys table and drop my business card as I did. When I got back to the head table I noticed the guy had picked up my card and was looking at it with a smile on his face.
As luck would have it, when I returned to the head table, Joe was “not feeling well”, (read: shitfaced) and I had to take him home. I tried to find the cute guy, to try and give him the “I’m leaving” look, but he was nowhere to be found. So I left, with the hopes that the cute guy would eventually call me.
Days went by with no text and no phone call. A week later I got the call. I didn’t answer it because I never answer calls if I don’t recognize the phone number. I let it go to voice mail.
Here is the message I received…
“Julie, this is B*****, you dropped your business card by my table at Sven and Jessie’s wedding, Obviously you don’t remember me. I thought I would refresh your memory. We dated a few years ago, I really liked you, I sent you flowers every day, you said you weren’t interested and that I creeped you out. I hope you have changed your mind. Call me, my parents are in town next week and I want you to meet them.”
Doh! I really know how to pick them, don’t I?