Spotted: Lonely Boy and C, Playing Skeeball for Skivvies

My Friday night date has to be called Lonely Boy. And in the name of all things righteous, because he will henceforth be known as Lonely Boy, this has to happen (forgive me in advance):

Dating Girl here, your one and only source into the single lives of D.C.’s mating fleet.

Will Lonely Boy’s charms be as lucky for C as they were for S?

Was that as nonsensical and entertaining (read: awful) as Gossip Girl’s lines? I hope so, because the rest of the post can never compare to GG, even a bad parody of it. Anyway, where was I? Oh right, the tale of Lonely Boy.

While at Town Tavern in Adams Morgan with the fabulous Courtney (and all 1,000 of her attractive, unattached male friends), I found myself pulled into a game of flip cup. …I stared blankly and failed miserably for the first two rounds. I had never played (HOW?!). Ever the well-versed in flip cup gentlemen, the cute boy beside me offered a coaching hand. His name was Lonely Boy.

Lonely Boy and I reconvened later in the evening when I regaled him with tales of my flip cup supremacy (I became a force). It transitioned into sports talk, namely football talk. An hour later, we were laughing at the bar and racing to see who could get drinks first. We’re both in journalism, and he can talk Nebraska football. Things were going well.

We found our way to the dance floor and got down to the beat of DJ Matt’s (Sheenopower) awesome mix. And then there was all the making out. I wasn’t impressed, but he was trainable, and I was drunk enough to enjoy the training. I improved his kissing by approximately 300%. You’re welcome, women of the world.

He had to be in Baltimore at 7am for work, so in moves that both shocked me and left me in wonderment, he closed my tab and suggested a first date before leaving. I was just about gobsmacked.

By Tuesday I had all but forgotten our encounter, wrapped up in my last few days of work at the old job and The Bartender noncapades as I was. So when I got a voicemail from him that evening (while standing in front of the White House, no less – a beautiful tribute to this blog’s namesake I daresay!), I found myself pleasantly surprised. We barely knew each other, and already he had me swooning by his considerate, sweet attention to detail:

1. He absolutely didn’t need to, and I never would have expected it, but he paid my tab. He was interested, and he showed it.
2. He arranged a first date before leaving. He was interested, and he showed it.
3. He called to ask me out officially on that date, instead of texting, facebooking or other social media’ing me. He was interested, and he showed it.

I love not guessing. I like being forward (more on that in a soon to be post ), and I like it when a man is, too.

On Friday, he called to reconfirm the date and times. We were headed to H Street Country Club at 8:00 for dinner and a skeeball showdown.

At 8:20, as I was frantically trying to run out the door, feeling horrible for keeping him waiting, he texted me this -

“I’m at the upstairs bar. Do you like margaritas?”

Me: “Always.”

“Good. Because I have one waiting for you.”

I could feel it. Tonight was going to be a good, good night.

To be continued…