Another tale from that datilithic era of last year…
The same time that I was dating Fred, the Aryan Uber Nerd, I was also dating… Herman. He was quirky, almost bizarre. But interesting. He wore sweaters with silhouettes of people fishing on them.
He handsome, but sort of not. We drank a lot and exchanged much comedic banter.
Of particular note, we had a date at a bar where speed dating was happening. We had a prime spot to watch the festivities and snigger. The first round was an older set. Probably 35 and up. It was rather meager, pickings were slim (but not literally) and a little sad. Boy, was it super to be smug, and on an actual date, watching the have-a-date wanabees. The second round was the younger crowd, which was much better attended. I wish that I had written about this sooner so that I could have regaled myself with blogged tales of the amusement, but alas, it was probably about 10 months ago now. I *can* remember that it was funny and awkward, so I should just try to hold on to that sentiment at least.
Eventually, there was some making out and then there was a night that I spent the night at his apartment, which the demise of any interest I had in him. His apartment was a small, but potentially nice studio in SOMO. Except that it looked like a homeless person lived there. Seems paradoxical, no? Yes. There were piles of things everywhere, and not a stitch of furniture. The bed was a twin mattress on the floor. And not a real mattress. The pseudo kind of mattress that you might have on the top bunk of your bed for 6 weeks in summer camp.
There was no way I could deal with his hobo aesthetic.
Aaand… we-e-ell… his make-out business was a little scary. He was a big fan of the kind of kissing that involves forcible restraint against a wall. Sort of hot for a second, but then, yeah. Let me go. Karate chop.
So I got rid of Herman. But tra-la-la! So many boys, I was happy to move on and non-obsess.
Another tale next time.