Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Nick and Run
Used to be when a woman met a man he would ask for her phone number, call to ask her out and then court her with dates, flowers and other chivalrous actions. These days the getting to know you phase is cut short thanks to Facebook and other networking sites through which someone feels they can scroll through your profile and instantly know you. Up until now, I haven't hesitated if a guy asked if I'm on Facebook (duh!) in order to friend me. What they do from that point forward though more often than not, sadly, falls under something I refer to as a Hit and Run: they friend me and then drop off the face of the earth, leaving me wondering where they went and if the women are really all that much hotter there. Or maybe just easier. There seem to be two types of Hit and Runs - the ones who never post a hello on my wall yet continue to invite me by group email to their art shows, screening, improv showcases, etc., and the ones like Nick, the guy I met the other night - the ones who lurk... text text text... and then disappear. The Quickie Hit and Run.
Nick is a smart and hottie who owns my new local bar (Hello Alex! I'll take Double Jeopardy for $800 please!) A friend and I went over there to catch up over a drink. At one utterly 2010 moment, she and I were both on our iPhones at the same time when he came over and chastised us for being so unsocial. He promptly sat down and never left. Three beers and two sweet lips later we seemed to have arrived at a mutually attracted place. I decided to quit while I was ahead and said goodnight, exchanging numbers with him. [Editor's note: January requests that we mention how proud she is for this action, as saying goodnight to two sweet lips attached to one hot man is not easily done. We wish to express that this opinion is solely that of the author and we have no way to verify her remark.] So the next day, Nick texted me. Yay! And then texted me some more. And then asked how he could find me on Facebook. I told him how. He friended me. And then -- nothing. Nada. No follow-up text. No message via Facebook saying how cute I look in the baby picture with my mom. Nothing. I was left thinking am I too ____ for him? Square? Lame? Normal? Should I edge-up my Facebook page?? I immediately posted a pic and came up with a catchy title for it. Still, nothing. Maybe I shouldn't have used a pic of St. Xavier that I took recently when visiting an old mission church. Maybe I'm too religious for him? What if he doesn't call?! What if he never gets to know that I'm actually a hot tamale! That I'm pious AND dirty - the perfect Catholic schoolgirl combo! What - and - but - if -
And then I slapped myself and got back to a normal status update. ("Two Words: Nathan Fillion. One Gratuitous Sound Effect: Mmmmm") I felt better immediately, like I'd regained control of the road after being struck by a hit and run driver. He might slam into me, but he hasn't got me down!
By the way, interesting little illustration of a hit and run, don't you think? I found the artist's choice of car positioning rather... arresting. I'll say!
This morning I woke up with a text message waiting on my phone. "I'm at the bar if you want to come by." Nick sent it around midnight, when I was fast asleep. I guess he doesn't count as a Hit and Run guy anymore, then. Just a Nick and Run.
Labels: Full Contact Sport (Men)