KC

March, 2013

We met online, and he was a charmer. For our first date we went to an awesome dive bar, drank beer and played darts (no surprise here, I won). Our perfect date ended with a perfect hug and the perfect promise of date two. Everything was... well... perfect.

And then date 2 happened. After much rescheduling, we finally made time to hangout on a Sunday afternoon. Hours before he was to show, he sent a text saying he couldn't make it because he didn't have enough gas money to drive from Tacoma (where he lived) to Seattle (where I lived), back to Tacoma (seriously, who lives there?) and then back to Seattle (where he worked). At this point, visions of perfectness danced in my head and clearly prevented me from understanding that this 32 year old man doesn't have enough gas money to come see me.

Long story short-ish, he came to see me since I told him he could stay with me (on the couch, c'mon people - it's me). We went to my favorite bar (he let me pay, such a gentleman), then back to my place... which is when the making out began (c'mon people, it's me)... which is when I encountered a tiny, tiny, tiny hiccup in our perfectness. Ok, how do I put this lightly... let's see... Well, I learned one thing that night: the saying 'you know what they say about 6'2" guys with big hands and big feet' was clearly not applicable in every case.

Upon my realization, I got a headache and insisted I get some sleep. He left the next morning, kissed me goodbye, and we never spoke again. That is when I decided that I will not increase my number for anything less than 7.

P.S. UPDATE - Saw KC at a M's game a few weeks later, and my-oh-my was I looking HOT. He hugged me, apologized for not texting me (right, cause our ending was his decision) and said we should hang out again. I told him that yeah it would be fun, which was clearly a lie because I had no idea how you have fun with something like that.