After the pleasant encounter of meeting a nice man in a public place, a friend of a friend, doing the normalized thing, if you will, I brave another foray into the crazy world of Crazy Blind Date.
I know, I know, that app was obviously named after me, because after Spankistani you’d think I’d raise that white flag already. But fuck the world. As a brown, fat girl, you think this to yourself a lot and it helps. It helps with the necessary resilience that we arm ourselves with in this world of modern dating.
So, yeah, I go back on it. I match with this dude, let’s call him Semi-famous. He chats me up on the app, and I cancel on the meeting (a weekend night) because I’m going to visit my parents. We end up talking on the app a bunch, which is unexpected, but nice. He seems to be, either, a) a total player because he keeps bringing up that he travels a lot and is only in NY for so long, or b) totally fresh off the boat, perhaps just moved here from India or something like it. But things he keeps saying sort of throw both those assessments out the window. Something in between a) and b) is what I begin to suspect. Some FOB-y playa, who can also play at being engaging, and sweet. I think a degree of hindsight is creeping into this paragraph.
We agree to meet on a Tuesday night because he’s going to be in my neighborhood, at a bar that is one of my favorites (they make deep-fried brussels sprouts)! I go there, and sure enough, much cuter in person than in the scrambled picture he put up. He has a deep voice and looooooong lashes, and those panther eyes I get such a boner for. We grab some drinks and sit at a booth and talk for hours. Turns out, he’s in the music biz, is an international dude (though originally from India), and was there for some sort of record release party. He even says he used the app to do some research for a similar app idea he was thinking of creating (yeah, dude, we all say weird things when we’re tryna get laid).
We totally hit it off, and some of his friends join us: an older man who used to be producer of 80s pop classics, a younger lady who does PR for bands. We order food, and I wax poetic about the brussels sprouts so we get 2 orders for the table.
“These better be good!” Semi-famous says, NO THREAT OF A SPANKING ON THE HORIZON. Progress :)
And they ARE good. At one point when Semi-famous goes to the bathroom, his friends ask me how long we’ve known each other.
“Oh... we only just met.” I say with a small, embarrassed smile.
“I never would have guessed! Thought you guys knew each other forever!” says the charming older man (we still follow each other on instagram)
When Semi-famous comes out, at some point I sort of whisper that I didn’t yet tell them we met on some random dating app. But, that I did mention we just met. Semi-famous is all affectionate at this point, but not creepy. Sweet little touches here and there. By now, it’s also 1 am, when Semi-famous mentions a full on famous band coming to join us, because they’re all such good friends.
So full on famous band member comes by, with his supermodel girlfriend who I totally bro down with. At 4 am, Semi-famous walks me home to make sure I get there safely, we make out in front of my door, and then he hails a cab and goes home.
That night, I tweet something about how nice it is to meet such a gentleman.
No matter what comes later, there was a little bit of the ridiculous and the magical about that night. Actually, about most of my dating experiences. Let’s remember that, eh?