Dating: Proof that the Universe Hates Me, Part 2

Part 2, Another Kind of Success

On Saturday night, I went out with friend B. We had the same goal of talking to people, and she made the bold move of asking two guys to play darts with us. Now, this is a great strategy. I just wish I could actually hit a dart board. In a rather typical small world situation, one of the guys happened to be from my hometown, AKA "the bubble." After leaving "the bubble," I have learned to appreciate the typical bubble boy way more- cute, preppy, ambitious, good morals but a bit sheltered and naive. Good or bad, there is just something comforting about that bubble boy. Unfortunately for me, Bubble Boy's friend ended up asking for my number at the end of the night. Thinking about my goal of not being a picky b, I reluctantly gave him my number, and friend B and I exited the bar to hunt down pizza. (Update on my resolution to "be a healthier person": epic fail.) I then received a follow up text at 3:15am. This is always a tricky one. I thought, "OK, back off eager beaver." However, I was also more likely to respond/agree to something due to copious amounts of alcohol. I suppose it's a decent strategy now that I think about it. What make me want to vom wasn't the alcohol in my system though, it was the fact that he was gushing about my conversational skills and beauty... via text... after 2 hours of knowing him...at 3am. Dude, please. Clearly, he didn't see me shoving pizza in my face while he was prematurely texting me. I ended up agreeing to meet up again, which I don't think will happen, so I'll just take satisfaction in the fact that I worked on another resolution that night. Oh, and it turns out we have a mutual friend, and that he is actually a great guy. Go figure.

On Sunday, Mr. Kool confirmed our date. At this point, I was kind of wishing that my date was with Gimp instead. But hey, Mr. Kool deserved a fair chance (says the non-picky b on one of my shoulders). And, at least I wasn't nervous about it, right?

And thus concludes the weekend. 2 days, 2 numbers, 1 date. That (surprisingly) happened.