It's a...date?

My friend LOB was staying with me this past weekend because she's subletting her apartment for the summer.

Wow. That was no "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," eh?

We decided to stay in Friday night (especially since we were out until 2:30 am Thursday and I had to work all day). So I made shrimp nachos and we ate them (and ate them and ate them. They were really good) while watching Center Stage and drinking much red wine. I blame the Center Stage thing on Jay over at Genius Pending (also known as the smartest person I know). He's doing a month long challenge of watching a chick flick daily and then reviewing it. So I've had the movie stuck in my head for a week, and it's what LOB wanted to watch anyway. It's a really really bad movie.

After our second bottle of wine, dancing along seemed like a good idea. So we danced. Okay, I danced and she threatened video while telling me that I'm surprisingly bendy. This is true, I am surprisingly bendy. Fourteen years of dance and cheerleading (Shut. Up.) will do that to you.

Her friend, Fransen, was in town from California for his sister's college graduation, and at this point, he talked his parents into driving him to my place and dropping him off. When asked if we could bring him back later, he made the wise decision (mostly based on the amount of giggling we were doing) to say, "Probably not." So his parents agreed to come back and pick him up later. And we were all back in high school.

We made experimental dirty martinis, which were far more dirty than martini, but I thought they were delicious. So there.

The next day, LOB and I were in red-wine-hangover-land, so we went shoe shopping. That night, LOB had to join her friend at a sorority graduation party. I laughed at her.

One of my favorite musicians in the whole wide world, Patrice Pike (and no those recordings don't even remotely do her justice) was playing at a bar about two miles from my house, so I had to go. She's so amazing. I just sort of melt into a puddle of goo around her. The first time I met her, I'm pretty sure I proposed marriage. It wasn't awkward at all.

So, naturally, I managed to almost sit in her brother's lap at the bar. Then when I got to talk to her, I acted like a complete idiot (me: Remember that time I asked you to marry me? Yeah, I didn't mean that...unless you might say yes...). It's what I do.

Where's my paycheck?

After the show and at the next bar, I saw a bunch of people I haven't seen since the best bar in the world closed. That was a sad day.

Anyway, so this guy came up to me and gave me a hug and said, "Wow. I haven't seen you in years. It's really good to see you again."

Me: (Silence. Crickets. Blank stare.)

Him: Uh, don't you remember me?

Me: (Light bulb!) Motorboater*?

Him: Yeah. I haven't seen you since [bar] closed.

Me: Nope. Guess not.

This is the guy who used to walk up and motorboat me pretty much out of nowhere. Nearly every time he saw me. So, ya know, we're already kind of on intimate terms. Also, I've never seen him sober. Keep in mind that we've really only ever seen each other at this one bar, so it's not unusual for people to be drunk.

So he sits down next to me and it begins...

Him: So...I'm Motorboater (puts out his hand for a shake).

Me: Uh huh. I know.

Him: Yeah, that was my smooth way of trying to get your name. I can't remember it.

Me: Uh huh. I know.

Him: So you're not going to tell me.

Me: Nope.

And pretty much the next thirty minutes consist of him trying to get me to tell him my name and me refusing. Then I was looking for my chapstick in my purse and having trouble holding onto my drink, so he took it for me. Which seemed nice, so I told him my name.

Me: It's Shine. My name.

Him: What made you decide to tell me now?

Me: You held my drink and I didn't even ask you to. That seemed nice.

Him: So that's all I had to do?

Look, I dated a complete ass for a year and a half. Nice is like a hot fudge sundae delivered to me in bed while I watch another episode of How I Met Your Mother.

So he kissed me. Uh...

Actually, it was a nice kiss. But still. Presumptuous bastard.

I told him to stop it and we talked for a while longer. We were talking about sports. Apparently it's impressive that not only do I like sports, but mostly I only listen to sports talk radio. So he asked if I wanted to go to the Rangers game the next day. Never one to turn down a baseball game, I said, "Sure."

What I didn't realize? It seems this was a date...

More tomorrow, because this is really long and I'm tired of writing it.

*Duh, of course that's not his name.