Fucking Gumdrops

I’m guilty of it now too. That thing where you go: You’re  smart, attractive, 30ish and single – what’s wrong with you? It's a stupid 30 thing. And then you become increasingly suspect (and take him home anyway). 

Okay. So I said – perhaps not on here, but from the past few months of all the divorcé crap - in my head and aloud to friends: I’m not going to be with anyone else until it’s a relationship. Whoops.

         Mmm.    [via]

But what happens when you’re like OMG I LOVE GUMDROPS! and then the Universe puts a nice big bowl of gumdrops directly in front of your face? Well, actually, he was directly behind my back. I didn’t even see him; GFC did. And as she pointed him out, it was obvious that when I turned around to stare at him that I had turned around to stare at him. …Twice. He was pretty. And the second awkward eye contact prompted me to say something - half (ultimately poor) wingmanning, half uhh I got caught so say something. So what else does one say in the middle of hour ten of drinking (after a day of tubing down a river) but exactly what one thinks: “You’re pretty,” I announced across the crowd.  And from there we went.

He introduced himself and I rejected his name and decided that calling him “Pretty” was better. I checked his ID to confirm said name, but really just wanted his age. After realizing he was adorable and 31, red flags and blaring whistles went off: 'If you’re single for real, then what’s wrong with you', is all I could think.

Does this mean that’s how the world views me too? This could be a problem.

I asked him if he had a wife and he declared that he was single, but had a dog. The dog seemed suspect: It was a little dog and 'don't couples get dogs and women get little dogs', I thought - clearly becoming more guilty of that stupid 30 thing. GFC got upset with him about something his friend said to Ginger (that wasn't his fault) and yet he continued to – what it seemed was – follow me around…with his piss warm beer. Which I thought was sweet of him; his determination, if you will. However, carting around a beer so warm that he'd had to have had it for hours (or be the Firestarter) seemed suspect, but perhaps I should have noted my first paragraph. (Or this.) Either way, I shelved my suspicions when he said he'd been drinking a lot earlier, grabbed another beer, and soon after, back to my place we went. 

Once there, I confessed that that we only met because my girlfriend pointed him out for having “pretty eyes” and I got caught in a stare. I think I offended him, but I clearly agreed with her because I gobbled up the pretty little gumdrops after a quick game of Trivial Pursuit. This might seem like a weird excuse or an innocent in to give guys as an odd little pick up like, “Want to come back to my place and play Trivial Pursuit,” but honestly, I really do want to play the game. It’s my favorite. Although he thought we were playing because I thought he was stupid and that was my Litmus test; which is actually sort of silly, if not endearing.

I don't recall thinking he was stupid, but he was pretty. And a Libra too. And from what I recall, he was into music. My music. Plus he thought my 170 pairs of shoes "isn't a lot". I found him to be charming and he wasn't offended by my odd sense of pick-on-you affectionate humor. In fact, he noted that girls who 'like' him are always really nice to him, but not me - so I'm just going to go ahead and assume he thought I was refreshing. He was tall with brown hair/blue eyes and a college degree: My trifecta in my age range. Holy shit, that never happens! How great, you’re thinking, right? She’s finally getting a good guy she deserves, right?! Nope. He lives five states away.

Fucking gumdrops, man.

In the morning – and by morning, I mean 9:50a after two hours of sleep – I awoke to him on the outside of the bed, hastily multitasking putting on boxers and fiddling with his phone. I groggily, through my blurry contacts and last night's make-up, looked at him and asked what time it was and what he was doing. He got back in bed. Again, in retrospect, this seems suspect, but perhaps he was trying to be a good friend and keep his plans  or simply putting on pants and checking his phone. Or, perhaps, he was, in fact, trying to escape undetected. If that was the case, then he failed, as we spent another 90 minutes together before he said he had to go, since he'd promised his friends they'd go to a museum before his flight.

At the time his friend came to pick him up, my roommates, plus one’s girlfriend, all emerged from their respective rooms to congregate in the living room. Perfect. Well, this was embarrassing. Not only did I look like I had been smacked with a wet trout, slapped around, and then color-arted on by toddlers, I also had Pretty in tow. And if that wasn’t enough, my hair – I would later discover – was one large knot of dreadlock in the back that took over 20 minutes to brush out.

You know, it's really quite unfair how men can wake up looking the same as the night before and women that haven't washed their faces look like the embodiment of a Stephen King novel. Men, I would personally like to take a moment to thank you for your oversight when it comes to this. Although, we women will later wonder what on Earth you were thinking when you found us appealing in such a state. But I digress.

With his friend waiting, we plotted our escape, which was compounded by the fact that his shoes were residing in the basement (it was quieter to Triv down there). After we heard the front door open and shut, we emerged. I thought we’d made it down both flights of stairs unnoticed, until I turned the corner into the kitchen - six steps from the basement - and ran into the new roommate; the one I now share a wall with. The hot mess I was giggled awkwardly, eeked out a "good morning" in reply, and continued on to the basement. Pretty was … actually I don’t know what the hell Pretty was doing and I had to go back upstairs to get him so that we could go out the basement door. As I walked him out the back door to avoid everyone in the front yard, he asked for my number. I gave it to him – as I had been wondering (and admittedly prodding a bit) all morning if he would ask for it and getting mildly frustrated that he hadn't yet - even if it was just a formality.

::grumble::

I opened the back gate, kissed him and sent him on his way. I watched him for a second as I walked back towards the house and he walked down the sidewalk, knowing full-well, slightly suspect, and full of grumbles that: 1. I'd likely never see him again...even though I'd like to, 2. DC men are not for me; like spotting expensive handbags, I seem to have a penchant for finding the out-of-towners and, 3. I’m tired of meeting out-of-towners. I want someone I can see again.

Seriously, can’t I have a gumdrop I can date? Come on, Universe: That adorable little candy dish is mean all the way on the top shelf. Why dangle a fruit that's too far away? This is getting pretty frustrating.

(See what I did there?)