It happened last Saturday afternoon. Saturday ended up being a totally crazy day. Friday night, I went out to a show at the main rock club in the city. It's in an area that's being re-gentrified. It's been so long that I forgot how late the shows go...we didn't get home until 1:30 AM. Which would have been fine, except I had to be up at 6:00 AM to run 10 miles.
So after 4 hours of sleep, I somehow rally to the run and make it through in the heat. My body is not loving it but I make it. So back home, shower and get ready because I have an hour drive to the coffee shop I am meeting "I" at. We are meeting in an area of the city I've only been in a few times. It's also being re-gentrified I discover. A fancy furniture store and chocolate shop are on the same block as an AIDS clinic and soup kitchen. (Oh and last weekend was the gay pride festival and the neighborhood we are in is the center of gay culture in the city. Kind of surreal atmosphere to have a first date.)
So no time for a nap, I throw on clothes and head out. We're meeting at noon. I'm running late - traffic on a Saturday is moving but it takes longer than I think. He's at a bar next to the coffee shop. At this point, a beer sounds good.
I order a beer and we start talking. Things are going well. I met him through eHarmony but we didn't really do any of the questions or all that. So I really didn't know that much about him. I finish my beer and so does he and we order another. At this point, I'm feeling it. I really haven't eaten anything all day and I've probably sweated out my body mass at least once. I feel like a hot mess. Also, I only had enough change for the meter for an hour so I have to excuse myself and walk up the street for about 4 blocks to feed the meter. As I drunkenly walk down the street, I quickly pull myself together in the heat and think that he probably thinks I'm totally dashing...hilarious. It would be so easy for me to just leave. I must seem like such a nut job.
But I didn't want to end the date so I feed the meter. I hobble back to the bar (my legs are killing me from the run). He definitely called me out that he thought when I didn't come back quickly that he thought I had dashed...but I must just walk slower than he thought. So we start drinking the next beer. All these people around us are eating. I wanted to cry. I was getting hungrier and hungrier and there is all this food around me. And then halfway through my beer, my stomach started to hurt. And not from hunger. So now in my mind I'm starting to think how to I end this date so I can run home. My stomach is hurting worse and worse...I'm totally have an internal conversation with myself. I don't know how I kept up an actual conversation. He must have been doing most of the talking. Luckily I have to pee so I run to the restroom. When I come out, he's finished his beer and is like time to go? I say a silent "Thank you baby Jesus".