Sometimes you experience something in life that transcends your imagination. In other words, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. Fact trumps fiction.
At least it did last night.
First off, I am recovering from bronchitis, whooping cough, or a virus. My doctor could not decide which, so I'm on a plethora of medication and yet I made it out on Valentine's Day. Why? Because I'm devoted to this blog, people. I'm out there, testing those waters, filtering through losers and bores, idiots and morons, jerks and nerds, fuckfaces and douchebags. Just to find one little not-yet-rotted gem of a man.
As a singleton in Portland, rarely am I invited to a singles event. So when a friend told me about an anti-Valentine's Day event thrown by folks who subscribe to a couch surfing site, I figured, what's the worst that could happen? A bunch of strangers who have crashed on other strangers' couches and who like to travel. Not a bad idea. An adventurous bunch. I predicted they might be young (but 19?). I don't know what I was thinking: they might also be an international group of single globetrotters? I could find my real Mr. Vornado.
How can I do justice to the facial expressions of my friend, K.? In my line of work, I've learned to curb my reactions a bit but watching hers made the evening spectacular. The 19 year old boy was sitting next to me, of course. When he ordered a whiskey sour (at a brew pub) I thought it a touch eccentric. When he ordered two more, I took note. When he told me he worked at a grocery store, nights, I thought he might be somewhat down on his luck. When he asked the waitress for a burger but make it chicken and could he have guacamole instead of mayonnaise? I thought he was certainly high maintenance. When he called the guy utilizing the ketchup when he wanted it, a motherfucker….I had a couple more serious doubts. When he received said ketchup and starting hitting its end and announcing, "Fuck me like a camel," then I started to think I had happened upon the best Valentine's Day of my life.
Of course there was a cute man - when one is looking one will find one! He shall remain nameless (and initial-free) because I have forgotten his name. He was seated on my other side. He's been in Portland 5 months and works at the youth hostel and they pay him to do some work, so he gets to stay there for free. Before that he "lived" in Vegas for a while doing something he would not or could not describe, and before that he was woofing at a farm in Canada. It was obvious, so I just had to ask him, "Are you really a Jewish doctor? You just go around saying these things to see if girls really like you for who you are and not what you do?"
I almost gave him my card, he was nice, normal and not 19,this woofing dirty-sexy QT with scruff. That's how desolate this dating savannah is looking. But fear not. I have a date on Wednesday with a bald, potentially cute, 43 year old man who posed with random old people in his match profile. I like that.
And it's not so hopeless: I received a gift from a very loyal boyfriend. Not Freddy nor Mr. Vornado, but Fin - K.'s dog who sticks near me during our morning walks at the park. I swear he's not in it just for the treats. He loves me for my inner qualities. Thank you, Fin. I am enjoying my Ghirardelli chocolate immensely.
Happy Valentine's Day to Me.
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