Charming, but single

Last week’s Happy Hour came and went with no romantic fireworks to report. I had a nice time with the group and had the first of what I hope will be many Harvest Moon Pumpkin Ales made by the Blue Moon Brewing Company. It’s not quite cold enough for me to sink into a thick, dark beer like a Mackeson XXX. But soon.

It took a little while to engage The Wine Guy in conversation – we were all sitting at a long table and not meandering around a bar, so the dynamic was different. He truly seems a bit on the shy side and he had a guy friend with him to talk to.

After things warmed up a little, we started sharing stories of college and it turns out that The Wine Guy? I probably met him in college. I mentioned a bar I always went to while I was in school and he said, “Hey, I lived there. I was there every night.” So yes, in my younger, wilder, jager and vodka-hazy days, I met this man and I don’t really remember him at all.

We went through people we knew and it turns out that one of my friends dated one of his friends and my College Roommate on occasion hung out with two of his good friends who were in our major and he said, “Well, you might know my other friend, but he’s probably older.”

And he told me who his friend was and it took everything in my power not to snort and laugh and choke on my beer because not only did I know the guy (we’ll call him Center of Attention Guy), but I very briefly went out with him oh so many years ago.

Flashback to at least 1999 or 2000. I was a young college student, aged 19 or 20. Center of Attention Guy was at least three or four years older than I was – every group of college kids has a guy like Center of Attention Guy, a perennial college senior with who has forgotten his age. I ran into him one day and we ended up having lunch and by the time I’d returned home from lunch and running an errand, I had a message from Prom Date saying, “You went on a date with [Center of Attention Guy]!”

Now, I hadn’t thought our lunch was a date, but word traveled fast. Center of Attention Guy was a nice guy, but he had a slightly abrasive personality that people either loved or hated. A touch hard to handle. I was unsure as to where I stood in the spectrum of like and dislike, as I’d always viewed him as mildly annoying. Our lunch had been fun and we’d never run out of things to talk about, so I decided to wait and see where it went.

He invited me to his Christmas Party, which was the same night as another party that had demanded “dressy” attire, despite the fact that it was just a regular drunkfest that happened to be Christmas themed. I decided to go to Center of Attention Guy’s party first for a few minutes and then head over to the party I originally wanted to attend.

It is easy for me to see now that I was a bit clueless as to the fact that Center of Attention Guy really liked me and also slow to realize that I didn’t share his feelings. Dropping by for fifteen minutes before I scampered off was probably a touch heartless. In my defense, when I told him I was coming, I also told him I had a prior engagement that evening.

So there I am in a long black skirt, high-heeled boots and a soft, form-fitting turtleneck sweater. I’d decided that an all black ensemble was as dressy as I was getting to drink beer out of cans, but I had brushed sparkly eyeshadow across my lids and put big curls in my long hair.

As soon as Center of Attention Guy saw me, his eyes lit up and he said, “[Charming], I am so glad you came. You look so pretty and dressed up.” He was genuinely glad to see me and mistakenly thought the curls and sparkles and tight sweater were for him.

And I, because I was young and clueless, said, “Oh thanks; the other party I have tonight is allegedly kind of dressy.”

His shoulders dropped. “You got dressed up for another party?”

Clearly my masterful PR skills hadn’t kicked in yet, because I said, “Yeah, it is Christmas Party Season. But I’ll have a beer if you have one to spare.”

Unintentionally heartless, I swear. We had a beer and he walked me to my car and said he was so glad to see me.

I didn’t talk to him during the semester break, but a few weeks after New Year’s he asked me out on a proper date. It was one of the nicest, most well-planned dates I’ve been on. He picked a good restaurant about an hour off the beaten path; he burned a CD full of songs he knew I liked for the ride and for me to take home. (To this day, I can’t hear “Boogie Shoes” by KC and the Sunshine Band without remembering this date.) When we got to the restaurant they sat as where his grandparents always sat and he clearly knew his way around the menu, ordering us some of the best bread pudding I’ve ever had in my life for dessert. After dinner we had a great conversation as we drove back to town and watched a movie and hung out.

And then it all fizzled – I was busy and he was busy and then I felt like he was blowing me off and so when I saw him I turned up my nose and ignored him. To retaliate, he told a mutual friend or two that I was “moody and insensitive.” (It turns out that he had heard through the grapevine that I said I’d known immediately that I wasn’t attracted to him. I did say this after a few cocktails, though I’d never expected him to find out.)

In what was never one of my proudest moments, I was crashing a party at his house after the “moody and insensitive” comment. On the way to the party I’d commented that we’d had such a nice time on the date and I couldn’t figure out why he’d acted so strangely. And so the evening might have ended with me standing in his living room proclaiming that I was “NEITHER MOODY NOR INSENSITIVE” and he might – might! – have kicked everyone from the party out of his apartment because he was mad at me.

Ahem.

And then the next girl he dated it the woman he eventually married. When he introduced me to her he bungled the introduction because he didn’t know what to say – had we dated or had we not. Prom Date said he could have gone with “This is [Charming]. I tried to date her but she wouldn’t let me.”

Flashing forward seven some odd years, back to Happy Hour with The Wine Guy, I just smiled and said, “Yeah, I know that guy.”