Revival Date
I was wrong about the ending. Not completely, just prematurely.
I went to Revival last Thursday night for Scott Pettigrew's album release show. Music was supposed to start at 8 and I arrived probably twenty minutes after that after having dinner with friends and getting stuck behind a train. Of course, the opener hadn't even started yet, but the room was crowded. I wandered toward the back hoping that the table next to the sound board would be free. No luck and there wasn't a good spot at the bar either, so I was just kind of standing near the bar contemplating where I wanted to go when a woman comes up to me and asks me to join her at her table. Okay, I guess.
I can smell beer on her and she goes off to get another, but the conversation seems to flow reasonably well and she's reasonably cute. She talks about being socially awkward, how she's not much for skinny guys, why she's there, her son, how she moved here from Ottawa to be closer to her parents, her design job, how the waitress could be half her age, how she doesn't understand fashion these days, her ex, and how ugly those leggings are.
All the while, she's drinking one beer after another and getting ever more flirtatious. She's grabbing my hand, touching my shoulder, telling me that she likes a man in glasses, and eyeing me in a way I'm not used to. I'm enjoying the attention but the conversation has looped back around to some of the same topics from earlier in the night and I'm generally feeling exhausted. Scott's set provides a welcome reprieve and then Redbeard comes over to say hi giving me someone else to talk to.
She downs her last beer during the encore and then heads out. I go to say good night to Scott and as I'm leaving see that she's in a cab. I'm happy to see that and a bit relieved that she didn't ask for a ride home. It was an interesting evening. It felt kind of like a mediocre date but without all the trouble of having to ask someone out.
I thought that was going to be the end of it. Most of the people I talked to about this thought that it sounded terrible, but really, it was mostly okay even though it may have gone on a little too long. One friend suggested that maybe I should have got her number. That, together with time got me to look her up on Facebook. Fortunately she had replied to the event, so it was easy to track her down. As I was idly flipping through her profile, I noticed the send a message button. Should I? It didn't really make sense, but I decided not to let that stop me and sent a note seeing if she wanted to go for coffee sometime.
A few message back and forth later and I end up at the French Press at quarter to eight drinking a London Fog while she drinks a Chai Latte. The conversation flows reasonably well and feels less obnoxious now that she's sober. She does most of the talking which normally makes it easier for me, but for some reason it's tiring today. Maybe I just don't want to hear how about how much wine she drinks or how she goes to the off sale so often that she's made friends with the guy who works there. Whatever it is, after about an hour, I'm done, but so is she and we go our separate ways.
I definitely liked her better sober even if she was less flirtatious. Still, I didn't feel any sort of connection and don't have any desire to see her again, so the second ending is the same as the first, but I am definitely counting it as a date. Two dates in the last two years - I'm such a Casanova.
I went to Revival last Thursday night for Scott Pettigrew's album release show. Music was supposed to start at 8 and I arrived probably twenty minutes after that after having dinner with friends and getting stuck behind a train. Of course, the opener hadn't even started yet, but the room was crowded. I wandered toward the back hoping that the table next to the sound board would be free. No luck and there wasn't a good spot at the bar either, so I was just kind of standing near the bar contemplating where I wanted to go when a woman comes up to me and asks me to join her at her table. Okay, I guess.
I can smell beer on her and she goes off to get another, but the conversation seems to flow reasonably well and she's reasonably cute. She talks about being socially awkward, how she's not much for skinny guys, why she's there, her son, how she moved here from Ottawa to be closer to her parents, her design job, how the waitress could be half her age, how she doesn't understand fashion these days, her ex, and how ugly those leggings are.
All the while, she's drinking one beer after another and getting ever more flirtatious. She's grabbing my hand, touching my shoulder, telling me that she likes a man in glasses, and eyeing me in a way I'm not used to. I'm enjoying the attention but the conversation has looped back around to some of the same topics from earlier in the night and I'm generally feeling exhausted. Scott's set provides a welcome reprieve and then Redbeard comes over to say hi giving me someone else to talk to.
She downs her last beer during the encore and then heads out. I go to say good night to Scott and as I'm leaving see that she's in a cab. I'm happy to see that and a bit relieved that she didn't ask for a ride home. It was an interesting evening. It felt kind of like a mediocre date but without all the trouble of having to ask someone out.
I thought that was going to be the end of it. Most of the people I talked to about this thought that it sounded terrible, but really, it was mostly okay even though it may have gone on a little too long. One friend suggested that maybe I should have got her number. That, together with time got me to look her up on Facebook. Fortunately she had replied to the event, so it was easy to track her down. As I was idly flipping through her profile, I noticed the send a message button. Should I? It didn't really make sense, but I decided not to let that stop me and sent a note seeing if she wanted to go for coffee sometime.
A few message back and forth later and I end up at the French Press at quarter to eight drinking a London Fog while she drinks a Chai Latte. The conversation flows reasonably well and feels less obnoxious now that she's sober. She does most of the talking which normally makes it easier for me, but for some reason it's tiring today. Maybe I just don't want to hear how about how much wine she drinks or how she goes to the off sale so often that she's made friends with the guy who works there. Whatever it is, after about an hour, I'm done, but so is she and we go our separate ways.
I definitely liked her better sober even if she was less flirtatious. Still, I didn't feel any sort of connection and don't have any desire to see her again, so the second ending is the same as the first, but I am definitely counting it as a date. Two dates in the last two years - I'm such a Casanova.
