This was probably one of my weirdest pickups ever.
The story starts by me
taking a Thursday mid-shift. Normally I worked nights, but on this day I
swapped it for a shift that ended at 9 PM, which worked out perfectly because I
wanted to go to a Second City party that night (I was taking improv classes
there). Once I finished up at work I headed straight to Second City, sat down
at the last remaining seat at the packed bar and ordered a drink called a Moscow Mule (a vodka and
ginger beer cocktail). The Moscow Mule is my favourite drink – if I had a
choice, I’d never drink anything else. I hadn’t seen anyone from the party yet,
but I thought maybe I was a bit early. I texted my friend and found out that
I’d gotten the date wrong – the party was the following Thursday.
I thought: well I have NOT EVER drank in a bar by
myself, but since I already ordered my drink I might as well finish it.
As I sipped it, two separate guys came over and tried to hit on me. I basically
shooed them off. After the second guy left, the guy
sitting next to me eating and watching the baseball game turned to me and said, “I’ve counted two so far.”
“What?”
"Two guys trying to pick you up in the first ten minutes since you sat down - that's pretty
good."
He was tall, maybe 200 pounds, with curly dark
hair, a nice smile and steel blue eyes, and dressed in a suit. He ordered a Moscow Mule - my drink - and started chatting with me. Apparently he had just gotten off work and lived across the street. He was a designer, and just so cute and smart and
funny. He seemed a little insecure, which just made him seem available. It
seemed like we liked a lot of the same things. In the back of my mind, I was
thinking, this guy is so perfect it’s
cray. He told me he had squash in the morning and then he said he should make sure to grab my number before he forgot. Once we traded digits, it was like bang. The Jays game ended and he quickly downed his
drink, paid for both bills and ran off. I was left sitting by myself at the
bar, thinking what the fuck just happened?
I wasn’t planning to text him the next day. Like, who knows what that was? But at some point in the
afternoon he texted asking if I wanted to grab a drink on Friday night. I
had to work but I agreed to meet him afterwards. So at midnight on Friday he
picked me up in an Uber and took me to a bar that had live music. He told me it
was his favourite spot. I had to pay for the drinks because he wasn’t carrying
cash on him. (Totally fine.) Then we went to a super-nice bar where we sat and
gabbed till close and he covered the bill.
We went back to his
place. It was sort of empty - not a lot of furniture in the living area. Definitely a guy's place. He offered me a joint. I turned it down but hung with him on the
balcony while he toked. He was playing all sorts of music and it was all the
same things I loved. It all felt so comfortable. We watched videos, listened to
music that moved our souls, and just sat together. Eventually he asked me if I
wanted to watch a movie with him in bed and I said yes. After we turned it on we
starting making out. Everything was going great, but at some point I had to pump
the brakes. I realized I wasn’t ready to sleep over or sleep with him yet. I
told him I had to go. He didn't seem super thrilled about it, but he walked me to the door. As he showed me out, I got a bit of a rude, sarcastic vibe from him. He sort of half-jokingly shoved me out of his apartment at the last minute. It seemed weird at the time but I didn't think too much of it.
The next day I texted
him and he asked me when I was done work because we had to finish watching the
movie. I told him, and again he came to pick me up in an Uber. We went back to
his place and chilled again. He got stoned again and I just hung out as he
showed me some of his artwork and some various videos online. I don’t think we
actually watched the movie we’d started the night before. I went up to his bed
again, but it was late and we were both tired so nothing happened between us.
As I lay there, he wrapped himself around me like he had to hold me tight. He
was like a bear protecting me. I couldn’t leave the bed. He rained light kisses
on my neck and the whole experience was just so sweet and charming.
The next morning
shortly after I woke up I had to leave for class. He was still wrapped up
around me and asked me to stay a little longer. We started chatting, and then
he said if we didn’t have sex now it would never happen. I thought he was joking. I had to get to class. I got up, kissed him on the forehead and teasingly said, “then it’s never, my
friend.”
As I was leaving, I
called up “bye” from the main floor and got back a gruff response like, “yeah,
we’ll talk later.” It seemed weird but I shrugged it off at the time. Later in
the day I texted him with a joke I thought was funny. He didn’t respond. I
waited for a while and just…nothing. He was gonzo - a ghost.
I was left wondering what I'd done wrong. I felt like I was terrible at dating. Was he really just after one thing all along? Our two nights together had seemed so sweet and lovely, and then it was like - no sex, I'm out. I know now that it was selfishness on his part but at the time I spent a lot of time wondering if it was something I had done that had ruined it.
Time passed, I saw some other people, moved on, and almost completely forgot about him. Then one day I was bartending at work when a familiar face sat down and ordered a drink.
“I feel like I know
you,” I said.
“Yeah, I met you at
the Second City bar,” he said.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, suddenly recognizing him. All the feelings I had pent up from that week suddenly came rushing back. I felt myself losing control and I'm sure my face turned a fire-engine red. “And you never
messaged me again.”
After I said that, I had to get someone
else to cover the bar for me until he left. It was upsetting. I felt a bit
used. Like all that niceness we had built up had been for nothing – in the end
he was only after one thing. Thinking back, I remember how unfurnished his
house was. I've seen other guys who were just as single-minded, and it seems looking back like they always had totally vacant houses. It makes me wonder if that’s a red flag when it comes to guys. Like
maybe empty houses mean empty hearts? Maybe sometimes the guys who don't have enough love for themselves to turn a house into a home are the ones who aren't capable of having a relationship in the first place.
But who knows?
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