I can’t get this guy (“Brett”) out of my head. Shit. How did this just happen.
I’m good and don’t text him. He texts me late that night – soberly, because he doesn’t really drink. Which, I can’t get over how attractive that is. Never thought that would be so appealing and it’s just one more thing that is making me like him so much. Too much.
We make plans to meet Monday night after Writers Group because I’ll be closer to where he lives. And now I’m done. Like, I can’t do anything. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t focus, I can barely even check my email. I am so incredibly nervous to see him again. It’s so stupid. Get a hold of yourself, Lindsay. He’s just a dude. But also, I was so drunk, I’m starting to forget what he looks like, and I only know his first name. Maybe he won’t be nearly as attractive as I remember, or I won’t like him that much. OR he’ll be perfect and I’m fucked because I don’t need someone perfect right now. I need fun. I don’t know what the hell I need. I have no clue what I’m doing. Seriously.
Monday is the longest day ever. I wake up at 3:45am because I just can’t sleep. I shower and basically start my day. That’s not true I just lay in bed. Thinking. About him and what might happen tonight. I have my acting meeting in the morning where I get absolutely nothing accomplished. Then I have UCB (Upright Citizen’s Brigade – it’s an improv class) in the afternoon and it already feels like this day is taking way too long. I just need to see him and get it over with so I can stop being a completely useless human being. After UCB I head to Writers Group. I’m completely exhausted and don’t know how I’m going to make it. Not true. I know that as soon as I start driving to meet him my adrenaline is going to go through the roof.
This is it. Meeting him at his place. Exactly what Natalie told me not to do. “Meet somewhere in the middle. Do not go to his place.” OK Natalie, sure. I get there and punch in his code, pull into the parking garage and my God, I’m nervous. I walk into the elevator area or whatever and text him. Then just stand there nervously waiting. What is it going to be like when I see him?
He walks through the door, on his phone (because he’s so cool). And we see each other. This is the cheesiest thing in the world and I can’t believe I’m saying it but I go weak in the knees. Ew Lindsay! You are such a girl. We walk up to his place and he’s cracking jokes. This is a really nice place. “Thank you. I own it. It’s all mine. Built it brick by brick.” He touches the walls as we walk. That is not brick. “Built it with whatever this is.” I nervously laugh. I say his full name, to show off that I do, in fact, know his name (because I accidentally kept calling him Brad the night I met him). He nods approvingly. “Oh, so you do remember some things, I’m impressed.” Yeaaa, it was on the key pad when I buzzed in. He laughs and shakes his head. “You didn’t have to tell me that part.” Well, I don’t know if you remember but I say everything I think.
And I’m in his apartment. This was another thing. The apartment could throw him into a pro or con. Pros all around. Lives alone, and it’s a nice place. God dammit. I’m super nervous. “Would you like a drink?” Sure. Water. He gets me a glass and we sit down on the couch. I sit opposite him. “How’s that side of the couch treatin’ ya?” It’s good. Very nice. I laugh. Nervously. I should just stop saying nervously, it should just be assumed that I’m extremely nervous through all of this. “Are you hungry?” I laugh. No. I haven’t been hungry since I met you. “Woah, is that like a sexual thing?” No, it’s just a fact. Why am I telling him this?? No filter.
We do some ‘get to know you’ talk and when either of us stops talking he just looks into my eyes with this intensity that I can’t handle. I touch my face, as I do when I’m nervous. Um, can you keep talking? “Sure. What do you want to know.” Tell me about your family. He does. We talk about lip sync and I consider doing a song for him. He’s confused. “You really just did a 180 with your whole nervous thing.” Yea, you’re right. I’m not gonna do it. Actually could I have drink? He pours us some wine. “Does wine go bad?” Wow, he really doesn’t drink. The wine is definitely bad and I don’t even care.
We talk more. I laugh. I need to stop saying everything I think. “No, please, I appreciate it.” OK, well, I always do this scene for workshops because it’s really easy for me because I’m naturally nervous around guys. So this is how you woo a woman? Take them back to your granite-countered bachelor pad, put on the perfect song, and make them a drink? “Oh, Crazy, Stupid, Love.” Yea! Then he leans forward, “Give me your glass.” I clutch it tighter. No, I’m good. “OK, but eventually I’m going to take it from you.” OMG OMG OMG. There’s less to talk about, so more pauses where we just look at each other and I know I don’t have much time. He gets up this time. “Give me your glass.” I jump up. Can I use your bathroom?
When I walk back in the room, the lights have been dimmed and a song plays from his phone. Oh geez. He puts his hand out. “Come here.” Ahhh OK. He pulls me down next to him so we’re shoulder to shoulder. I comment on the phone – nice touch. “See what I did there?” I do, yes. …. So,… He puts down his glass.
“Alright, I’m done with this.” And he grabs me and pulls me on top of him.