Well fuck.
I didn't think she'd actually respond. Now I had a daunting task ahead of me: to explain via text messaging the entire story of how I know this girl, who I met once, three years ago, and not come off as a complete slalker/creeper.
Whew.
I must have done a pretty decent job, because we ended up texting back and forth for the remainder of the night. I was impressed at what a good sport she was about the whole thing.
No, she didn't remember me at all; which wasn't surprising considering how much we had to drink. That one night. Almost 3 years ago.
The last message she sent was, "Here's my last name __________. Send me a message on Facebook. Maybe that will clear things up"
So I found her. To my pleasant surprise:
- She actually looked familiar from the memory I had
- She was way better looking than my original memory. Like. Out of my league gorgeous.
As of 12:07am on Thursday, October 16th 2008, I have not received a response to that message.
* * *
There's something to be learned of this experience. I wish I had a greater story to share... a story of absolute triumph, full of rainbows and a continues looped soundtrack of "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head". I wish I could tell you that, especially with the big build up.
But the thing is, I didn't even know what would happen when I sent that text message to a complete stranger I met years ago. I wrote about it as it happened and you waited along with me for Part 2. We waited together.
That's such a great metaphor for the dating world, isn't it? You do what you can and you just have to fucking wait and see what comes of it.
Being a single male in my mid 20s, you encounter a lot of girls. And I don't mean to paint a bleak picture, but a lot of them are going to suck or flake. That's just how it is. But that's what it means to be single and to date.
Each time you meet one, no matter how great or how terrible she may be, you build up a little library. When that one doesn't make the cut (or she doesn't fancy your trousers), you file her away in a dossier. You know to avoid that one the next time. You make the mental note.
And eventually your dossier becomes full and you have that much more experience to learn from for the next time.
But the thing is, I didn't even know what would happen when I sent that text message to a complete stranger I met years ago. I wrote about it as it happened and you waited along with me for Part 2. We waited together.
That's such a great metaphor for the dating world, isn't it? You do what you can and you just have to fucking wait and see what comes of it.
Being a single male in my mid 20s, you encounter a lot of girls. And I don't mean to paint a bleak picture, but a lot of them are going to suck or flake. That's just how it is. But that's what it means to be single and to date.
Each time you meet one, no matter how great or how terrible she may be, you build up a little library. When that one doesn't make the cut (or she doesn't fancy your trousers), you file her away in a dossier. You know to avoid that one the next time. You make the mental note.
And eventually your dossier becomes full and you have that much more experience to learn from for the next time.
