As Alexander says; it was a terrible, no good, very bad day.
My day seemed to be going downhill by the hour. It started with a guy canceling our coffee date for the third time this week. I feel like this is worth repeating…a grown man that asked me out canceled on me three times in one week. I felt hurt, rejected, and a little annoyed at myself for allowing it to happen so many times.
I run to a quick yoga class, don’t have time to shower, forget my make-up, and literally run (yoga mat in tow) to my back to back shoots in the city.
After a 10 hour day I just want to head home, grab a bottle of red wine, and watch a good ol’ rom com (#whyamistillsingle) when I remember my friend invited a few friends over for dinner.
Exhausted, with my camera gear and yoga mat, I head to Brooklyn for dinner at my friend’s place. I figure it was no problem that I look quite disheveled as I was sure it would be only girls.
As my friend swung open the door, the aroma of homeade food filled all my senses, and as I dumped my belongings on the floor, plopped on the couch and was instantly handed a glass of red wine. (This may be a good night after all).
No sooner did I sit down, when there was a knock on the door, and it was my friend’s darling friend from college.
He and I met at yoga the month before, and ran into each other at class each week. Did I mention that he is very cute…Le’sigh.
Hi, he says.
Hey, I say.
Immediately I become very aware of my completely unkempt state. My friend also seems to notice and whisks me to her room, puts me in a cute cream chiffon blouse, gives me mascara, blush, red lips, and a little perfume, and viola! I am a new woman.
Walking back into the room he and I made eye contact.
I smile (It’s a very She’s All That moment except I don’t tumble down the stairs).
Throughout the night more people came over, we eat an amazing home cooked meal, and somehow our wine glasses are never empty. Another thing happens as the evening progresses. As I float around the room talking with different friends, somehow he and I kept finding ourselves in a corner talking; it doesn’t take me long to find out he’s not only really cute, he’s a really genuine and kind guy.
It’s getting late so naturally a few us decide to go dancing (because why not…it’s Friday night and it’s only midnight #yolo #midnightisthenew10pm people).
We say our goodbyes, and it is only then that I notice there are only three of us going out. My roomate, him, and myself.
We’re on our way to the bar, and in less than two minutes his hand slips into mine, and it kinda feels like it is just as it should be. Like all along we are supposed to be in this exact moment walking through Brooklyn at midnight on a crisp fall night hand in hand.
Remember though, my roomate is with us too and watches the whole thing happen.
He looks at his phone for directions, and she mouths at me with eyes as big as golf balls “SHOULD I LEAVE??”
I shake my head with eyes equally as big flailing, “NOOO!!!”.
Now might be an opportune time to tell you that it has been two (yes two) years since a man has held my hand, and yes it is also safe to assume that it has also been two years since I have been kissed. (I’m pretty conservative with my kisses. Working on my P31 folks, but more on that later).
We get to the bar, which I’m convinced isn’t bigger than my 10×10 Brooklyn bedroom; it is wall to wall with people, and the DJ is playing what my roomate likes to refer to as “Island Jams”. You would have thought we walked straight into a dive bar in Jamaica.
I didn’t hate it though, because I’m with a really cute guy that I’ve spent the better part of the last 6 hours connecting with, and he is holding my hand, and has led me into an Island Jam bar with tropical drinks*.
He and I stand next to the bar and chat. Full disclosure: at this point I have all but abandoned my poor roomate who officially deserves a ‘Wingman of the Year’ trophy. (Although I’m not a complete monster, because I made sure she was having fun, and as I looked over to her she was literally surrounded by 3 different guys wanting to buy her a drink and teach her how to dance to steel drum beats).
I turn back to look at him, and he pulls me in close, and gives me a little kiss. I pull back with my head spinning, and we smile and keep talking.
The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. We danced to what can only be described as some sort of Jamaican national anthem complete with steel drums until the wee hours of the morning.
We step outside for some fresh air, and then the next thing I know we’re standing on a street corner in Williamsburg and he’s kissing me. He kisses me like he means it, and it is completely magical.
At some point…some good bye kisses later…I float home.
That’s all for now.
*note: I actually don’t like island drinks…I’m more of a wine and whiskey girl myself, but for the stories sake; it sounds good.