Rainy Days and Mondays Always Get Me Judged

Raino is in Vancouver this week for work, and after a long series of emails, we decided it would be fabulous fun to get together on Monday night for drinks.  Which meant I got to leave the house for the FIRST TIME IN SIX WEEKS.  Which was awesome.

I busted out the good makeup. curled the split ends back, put some freaking clothes on already, and headed downtown.  We were meeting at a new bar right in the middle of the city, and we were both admittedly a little nervous.  I got there 15 minutes early to save us a table and pace off some jitters, but since we'd agreed to meet outside, and since we didn't exactly know what each other looked like, I just threw my name on the waitlist and took my little 'we'll buzz you when we're ready for you because we're entirely too good to run around calling for people' Tron looking buzzer thing and headed out front.

At about 8, they buzzed me and I went in to explain that my friend hadn't arrived yet, so I'd need to get bumped down the wait list.  The girls behind the host stand graciously offered to seat me anyway, but I reiterated that I didn't know what my friend looked like, that we were just meeting for the first time, so I really needed to be outside.

This is the point where I need to explain that the bar that we agreed to meet at is The New Bar in town.  It's all shiny and aluminum, with a great if not slightly over-thought menu, Justin Timberlake bumping in the stereo, and ALL THE HOT WAITRESSES IN BRITISH COLUMBIA.  Seriously, I think they take your measurements when you interview.  It is the restaurant of the pretty people.  None of them are a day over 25, an inch over 28 in the waist, and they all look stunning in their little black outfits and high heels that they WAIT TABLES IN.

I refer to it as The Cornucopia of Porn Utopia.  It's eye candy for sure, and I don't care what your sexual persuasion is.  Those ladies be smokin'.

So when the cute little hostess in her almost but not quite too short black dress suit smiled understandingly at me and said with a little *wink*, "Oh, a blind date, eh?" well, what could I say?  I could have said, "Oh, no, we're just blog friends and do you know what a blog is, because I write one but it's crap and she writes one, too, but it's not crap, and we read each other's blogs and since she's in town we just figured it wouldn't be right if we didn't meet" or I could have uttered a sheepish, resigned little, "Yeah."

So there I am in my hot boots and my sensible yet becoming black sweater-shirt thing (what do you call a sweater with short sleeves, anyway?) on a totally hot lesbian blind date in the middle of Porn Utopia and my date is NO WHERE TO BE FOUND.

After about 30 more minutes of pacing outside and getting accosted by a woman who was dead set into crying me out of all the spare change I wasn't carrying, I went inside to ask for a nice, stiff drink.  And they offered to seat me at a table that looked outside.  They're nice little minxes, I'll tell you what.

And I waited.

And waited.

And the hot hostesses kept looking at me.

And so I drank.

And at 9, I threw in the towel.  She wasn't coming, and I'm now a pathetic loser who can't even get a BLIND date, and the hostesses were mumbling in my general direction, so I left.

Turns out, she was doing just about the exact same thing as me at the OTHER The New Bar a few blocks in the other direction.  Though I don't think anyone thought she was a lesbian.  Or maybe they just didn't have the balls to ask.  Bygones.

She eventually figured out she was at the wrong place, and hopped out of the cab at the right place I kid you not within 2 minutes of me hopping into my car to head straight home like a good girl should.

Oops.  While I was busy "driving straight home like a good girl should," she was busy calling my house, talking to The Donor, who gave her my cell phone number, which rang on my kitchen counter right where I'd forgotten to pick it up from, and then talking to him again on my house line, and then giving up, too.

Long story long short, we met up last night.  And she's awesome.  We had a really great time.  Well, I had a really good time and she's probably bleeding from the ears right now, but the hostess from last night was the hostess tonight, too, and she totally believes that we weren't out "experimenting" on a weeknight.

Or so she says, anyway.  It doesn't matter, anyway...she's totally out of my league.