And I waited.
To my friend I texted: “We said 8 and then wait by the door in case the other is late. I’m as close to the door as I can be without looking like a total loser.”
My phone service is
terrible not great. And I had one picture to go off of, which by the way, he didn’t know I had on my phone. You see, my friends were just as cautious of my safety as I was. They wanted to know exact details: who I was with, his name, what he looked, where I would be, etc. One friend even required me to keep in contact with her throughout the evening to ensure my safety. So, I forwarded his picture to four different friends with the details. The picture I chose was great [for identification purposes because it showed his arm tattoo], unless the person you’re meeting doesn’t look exactly like their picture. I imagine it was the same way with my picture versus me in real life.
As I said, I arrived EXACTLY on time, which is a phenomenon in and of itself, because I am not punctual. Either way, I thought for sure he would have beaten me there, because even when I am on time, I am still usually the last to arrive somewhere. So instead of waiting outside the building, I decided to wait inside. Honestly, I was scared to wait outside on the city streets with dark approaching while I was, admittedly self-described, looking quite hot. [Insert snarky laughter here.]
So as I was texting my friend, she asked how I was feeling. “A little sick with nerves.” She assured me I’d be fine, and that she had his picture if she needed to call 911, and she could be to the cities “in a snap”. My response was that I was mostly nervous I was either at the wrong venue, or that I wouldn’t be able to find him at all.
Once inside, first I noticed that the “dress code” this place was supposed to have, was so not in place. It was ridiculous that people were wearing GYM SHORTS for goodness sake. Anyway, I began to look for Mr. Winnipeg. See, I was unable to communicate with him using Skype or anything else because my phone’s internet was not great. I was expecting him to be incommunicado anyway, if he were on his way to the venue. International phones, I tell ya.
Twenty minutes passed, and I was already asking myself, and my friend, what I would do if I couldn’t find him. It wasn’t that huge of a place, my high school gymnasium is larger, but it was a good-sized crowd. So, who was I to know if 1) he wasn’t there yet, 2) he looked NOTHING like his picture, but in a bad way [ yikes!]or 3) had arrived and didn’t like the sight of me and so disappeared. I mean, in all honesty, any one of those things could have happened. Or what if we spent the whole evening walking in circles looking for each other but never finding each other? How much would that suck!
Folks, an HOUR passed. AN HOUR. I watched the entire opening act perform [if you can call that a performance because it was terrible]. At one point my friend asked what I was thinking. My response: “I’m thinking I can’t find this [guy] and I’m getting annoyed, but I’m hot…” Honestly, though, I didn’t know what to do. I’m socially awkward. There’s no way I could saunter up to someone and hang with a random that I had never talked to before. I got talked up by a couple of weirdo’s, too. I’m not going to lie, no matter how long I had been waiting, and whether he had showed up or not, I still would have told those creepers I was there on a date. I would have said he was in the bathroom if worse came to worse. My friend theorized that maybe Mr. Winnipeg was actually a concert promoter and swindled me into a fake date in order to boost ticket sales for this concert. Seriously. I said that he had then won, because there I was at the concert, but no worries because that would just be another post for my blog. 😉
“I keep seeing dudes and going, oh god I hope THAT’S NOT him.” Until one guy passed by, and I said to myself, oh goodness, I hope THAT’S him. See, I would say we also failed to describe what we were wearing/looked like accurately enough, because all I said was jeans, white tank top, and pony tail, and all he said was grey button up shirt and jeans. I mean I was wearing skinny jeans, that may have helped. I had a small bronze purse, maybe that would have helped. Or that I had on large silver earrings. His button up had SHORT SLEEVES, that definitely would have helped. Or we could have been smarter, and sent pictures of ourselves to each other in our garb ahead of time. We really thought things through.
Let’s say we’re both, apparently, shy people. So he actually passed by me two times, and we made eye contact, I think, but I mean, it’s so awkward to be like, “Um…hey is that you?” But eventually, I saw the same guy waiting by the door, and whipping out my phone to compare pictures…oh that wasn’t really very accurate, actually, but I decided to ask anyways, and I was right!!!
And goodness me, could I have ever met a nicer, cuter, guy, totally ACTUALLY my type of a guy in real life? Not lately. [Ms. R, if you’re reading, you better believe that while I thought I was taking a chance on a guy outside my type, little did I know.] He was so nice, definitely a gentleman, not inappropriate. I was a bit afraid that meeting someone this way would automatically make that guy think it was okay to be awkwardly all over me in a sleazy sort of way. Not so with Mr. Winnipeg. I mean, he’s from Canada. If nothing else, How I Met Your Mother has taught me that all Canadians are nice. 😉 I honestly don’t know what it was, but despite my nerves, I was also oddly at ease with him, right away. [I think he may have won me over when he was telling me something and he ended his sentence with “eh” and didn’t even know it.] I also informed him that I needed to text my friends that I found him so that they knew I was okay, and he hadn’t murdered me. He laughed, thank goodness.
So, we enjoyed the concert, went for a drink with his friends, and then went to eat at IHOP, because they don’t have that in Canada, apparently. We had a really great time. I superbly enjoyed myself. And then the evening was over. It was 2 a.m., everyone was super tired, and I did have to work at 8 a.m. So, we said goodbye. Complete with the awkward internal dialogue on my behalf [and I would go so far as to say it was similar for him] of what to do for goodbye – a hug, a kiss, a handshake? We didn’t do any of those things.
But that’s okay, because we’ve been talking ever since, and I am extremely enjoying getting to know someone this much.
And most important, he has thus far passed #9 on my list of requirements “Someone who doesn’t mind that I have a son.” So who knows, maybe I’ll soon become an international travelor and visit the Great White North. I’ll let you know.