The Situation –

It was a Thursday night and I was out at a bar with some friends. As I was walking around, drink in hand; I inadvertently locked eyes with The Situation. Although he was short – about 5’5” – I thought he was cute.

We stood there, face-to-face for a few seconds until he finally said something. After I had been talking with The Situation for a few minutes, I noticed FLJ standing near the bar out of the corner of my eye. Because I was enjoying my conversation with The Situation, I redirected my attention towards him. But a few seconds later, FLJ saw that I was talking to another guy, walked over to where I was, and standing directly behind The Situation, starting waving his hands above his head to get my attention. I ignored him.

So FLJ walked around The Situation, and standing between us, asked (in a flustered tone) if I had noticed him trying to get my attention. I told him that I didn’t with a what are you still doing here expression on my face, and he asked if he was interrupting something. I said that he was and so he apologized and walked away.

Because I didn’t want to be interrupted again, I suggested to The Situation that we relocate to a quieter area. Relocating to a quieter area quickly turned into making out in a quieter area. I thought that we were sitting out of the way enough so that nobody would see us, but it turns out that I was very, very wrong.

My friends, and pretty much everyone else at the bar, saw what turned out to be a very public make-out session. And after a few minutes of watching us (and making fun of me, I’m sure), my friends finally cut in and got me to leave the bar, but not before The Situation asked for my number and told me that he would call.

I didn’t think that he would call because really, what guy calls the girl he just drunkenly made out with at a bar? But, to my surprise, exactly three days later, he did. I didn’t answer because I didn’t recognize the number, but he left a really nice message asking me out for a drink that week.

And that’s when it hit me; I had no idea what The Situation looked like. I may have forgotten to mention it, but when I ran into him at the bar that Thursday night, I was smashed. And despite remembering that The Situation was short and “cute,” I could not for the life of me conjure an image of his face.

But because I remembered having fun with him, which was supported by my friends’ detailed description of just how much fun I had, I decided to meet him for a drink that Thursday.

I walked up to the wine bar hoping that I would recognize The Situation once I saw him; luckily, I did. And he was cute, just as I had vaguely remembered.

We ordered a bottle of wine and talked for a while. We were having a great time when The Situation asked me on a second date. His friend had 2 extra tickets to Bruce Springsteen’s last show at Giants Stadium, and The Situation invited me to come along. The concert was the next night, and even though I’m not the biggest Bruce fan, I agreed to go.

I learned two very important things at the show:

1) Bruce is amazing live, and

2) The Situation was from New Jersey.

Despite his proclivity for fist-pumping to Bruce’s music, I started to like The Situation. I had a great time with him at the concert, he was a total gentleman, and he refused to let me pay for anything.

The next week, The Situation asked me out to dinner in his neighborhood on the Upper East Side. I had been to his neighborhood before, and I met him at his corner. I knew that there were a ton of cute restaurants to the south of where we were standing, but The Situation started to walk north. We quickly came across a Blockheads, and he suggested we go there. I categorize Blockheads as a place to go for margaritas, and I wasn’t planning on drinking because I had class in the morning, so I vetoed his choice.

We walked a little farther, and The Situation pointed to a bar. I felt bad because I had already put my foot down once, and so I asked if their food was good. The Situation assured me that it was, and after showing the bouncer my ID (no I’m not kidding), we went inside.

It was dinnertime on a Tuesday. There were three people sitting at the bar and two lonely booths in the back. The waitress seated us at one of the booths. It was dark, the music was really loud, and after looking over the menu (and perhaps noticing how miserable I looked), The Situation asked if I wanted to leave.

Instead of continuing north, we finally headed south and found a cute Italian place. The conversation at the start of dinner was strained, and it wasn’t until the middle of dinner that The Situation became more engaging.

Dinner ended on a high note, and after we left the restaurant, The Situation asked me if I wanted to come up to his apartment. It was still pretty early, but I didn’t want The Situation to think that I would be coming up to hook up, and so I told him that I would come up to watch an episode of something, but that I would have to leave immediately after that because I had class in the morning.

So I went up to his apartment, and we watched an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. After the show was over, we started to make out a little bit on the couch. When, suddenly, The Situation stood up and walked to his bedroom.

I followed him into his room and, with his clothes still completely on, The Situation got into the bed and pulled the covers over him. He motioned for me to join him, but I stayed in the doorway. “You’re not going to get into bed with me?” he asked. I told him that I wasn’t and that I had to leave in a few minutes.

…And then he threw a temper tantrum “Do you know that this is our third date?! Our third date! And you’re not going to sleep with me on our third date!?!”  And with that, he pulled the covers up to his head, just below his eyes, and turned to face the wall.

I went back into the living room, put on my coat, and picked up my purse. I returned to The Situation’s room and asked him if he was going to walk me to the door. With the covers still over his face and his back to me he said, “No. I am done with you. I am never speaking to you again.”

I let myself out of his apartment and, thankfully, haven’t heard from him since.

 

(Thanks go out to my dear friend, J.K., for suggesting the nickname on this one)

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