This morning, I was smart and planned out my workout in advance. So I woke up early and ran 3 miles. I did this because tonight is my company Christmas party, and I decided to bring Deacon. I figure we've been hanging out a little bit recently, and it would be fun to bring him.Where should I start? Well, he'd warned me ahead of time that he was going to wear a suit he bought at the Goodwill. I thought he was joking, but then I also thought he was telling the truth, yet if he was, I had faith that he'd have the good sense to wear something decent. Verdict? It was decent. I meant it was only about 15-20 years old and not, like, 30 years old, not that it's something I'd condone everyday or for everyone. But it's Deacon, and you just have to know him. But the shoes were thumbs way down.
I decided to check up on my match.com emails while we waited for the cab because I'd written him off on that fact alone. I mean, I'll be honest; I have been starting to wonder about him lately, you know, like does he have potential to roll with me? Um, not sure now. And certainly not putting all my eggs in one basket. But the upside is I could still relax and have fun and hang out with him.
So we waited, and waited, and waited for the cab. Hey, Deacon. I thought I said we needed to leave at 6:15? Scott rolled up with the Land Yacht at about 7:15 and about 2 vodka sodas into the night.
When we arrived at Thistle Cafe (where Deacon's friend happens to be owner and chef), a photographer snapped this picture of us before I could take off my own vintage mink coat (circa 1976). OK. So we were both wearing "vintage." Of course, under my coat I was wearing Michael Kors circa 2009. And you know what goes well with vintage? Vodka does. The bar was and will always be a good idea for Christmas parties. Especially open bars. And especially bars where Deacon has friends.
I realized tonight that yes, I can take Deacon somewhere and he won't throw the shocker sign for every photo and he can carry on a conversation with strangers and he has table manners. So with a few more drinks, I forgot about the suit thing. After dinner, we lingered for a while and talked to Deacon's friend and drank more drinks. Oh, vodka, how I could write tomes about you! That said, there were other bars to get to, so we didn't linger too long. Deacon suggested Malverde again, and I obliged, although I do not know what the big attraction is for this bar.
Once again, we were just about the only people in the place. We sat on a couch that was across from another bank of couches where another couple were "lounging." If you squinted your eyes just right, which is about the only way I could control my eyelids at this point, then it looked like you were watching soft porn. I think we took bets on whether they would go for it right there on the couch. I said, "get a room" out loud, but I knew they couldn't hear me over the music. I just wanted to say it. Out loud.
So to divert our attention and derail any sexual tension that might have been building, we started talking. I think Deacon did most of the talking. And I did some listening. I was tired because I woke up early to run and dare I say I couldn't only finish half of my 7th vodka soda. And at some point, like it has before, Deacon and I started talking about trust and how I should trust him. I told him that I had a dream that a friend of ours told me, "Don't trust Deacon." So this has been a point of contention lately.
Then right there on the couch, Deacon tried to kiss me, but I pushed him off because I said we are just friends (and I was still debating on how I felt about him in a "more than friends" situation). I take my time with things. But it was time for a change of venue, so we walked down the street to Lavaca Street Bar.
To cap off the night, I just ordered a beer. Deacon kept wanting to talk about trust again and why don't I trust him. I said I'm still getting to know you better. He convinced me to do the "fall into my arms" trust exercise. I agreed. But just as I was about to fall, I caught a glimpse in a mirror of him flinching out of the corner of my eye, and I caught myself.
You would have thought I'd just run over a baby if you were judging by the way his attitude changed to a "how dare you? how could you?" tone. I told him about what I saw in the mirror and he denied it. I told him it was a dumb game and I didn't want to play. He kept pressing and I said, "This is the end of the discussion. I'm not discussing this any more." But like a child, he wanted to get his way and have the last word or at least continue to press my buttons. I told him that if he wanted me to trust him then he needed to give me a reason to trust him and not play some stupid game with me. He argued his defense. I whipped out my digital voice recorder and started recording: his side vs. my side of this silly argument. I told him he'd had too much to drink and that when he was sober tomorrow, he could listen to how irrational he was sounding.
After that, we shared a cab back to his house, and I said, "This is why you are single. You go after women with drama, and I will have nothing to do with it. I don't want any part in drama. I'm not going to let you pick a fight with me over nothing." I don't know if he heard any of it or processed any of it or will remember any of it, but when we got back to his house, I didn't even go inside. I just said goodnight and got in my car and drove home.
I'm a little disappointed that the night ended this way. I was beginning to enjoy my time hanging out with Deacon and getting to know him and not having to make any decisions about trust or kissing or conflict resolution. But it is what it is, and there's always tomorrow. And more vodka.
I decided to check up on my match.com emails while we waited for the cab because I'd written him off on that fact alone. I mean, I'll be honest; I have been starting to wonder about him lately, you know, like does he have potential to roll with me? Um, not sure now. And certainly not putting all my eggs in one basket. But the upside is I could still relax and have fun and hang out with him.
So we waited, and waited, and waited for the cab. Hey, Deacon. I thought I said we needed to leave at 6:15? Scott rolled up with the Land Yacht at about 7:15 and about 2 vodka sodas into the night.
When we arrived at Thistle Cafe (where Deacon's friend happens to be owner and chef), a photographer snapped this picture of us before I could take off my own vintage mink coat (circa 1976). OK. So we were both wearing "vintage." Of course, under my coat I was wearing Michael Kors circa 2009. And you know what goes well with vintage? Vodka does. The bar was and will always be a good idea for Christmas parties. Especially open bars. And especially bars where Deacon has friends.
I realized tonight that yes, I can take Deacon somewhere and he won't throw the shocker sign for every photo and he can carry on a conversation with strangers and he has table manners. So with a few more drinks, I forgot about the suit thing. After dinner, we lingered for a while and talked to Deacon's friend and drank more drinks. Oh, vodka, how I could write tomes about you! That said, there were other bars to get to, so we didn't linger too long. Deacon suggested Malverde again, and I obliged, although I do not know what the big attraction is for this bar.
Once again, we were just about the only people in the place. We sat on a couch that was across from another bank of couches where another couple were "lounging." If you squinted your eyes just right, which is about the only way I could control my eyelids at this point, then it looked like you were watching soft porn. I think we took bets on whether they would go for it right there on the couch. I said, "get a room" out loud, but I knew they couldn't hear me over the music. I just wanted to say it. Out loud.
So to divert our attention and derail any sexual tension that might have been building, we started talking. I think Deacon did most of the talking. And I did some listening. I was tired because I woke up early to run and dare I say I couldn't only finish half of my 7th vodka soda. And at some point, like it has before, Deacon and I started talking about trust and how I should trust him. I told him that I had a dream that a friend of ours told me, "Don't trust Deacon." So this has been a point of contention lately.
Then right there on the couch, Deacon tried to kiss me, but I pushed him off because I said we are just friends (and I was still debating on how I felt about him in a "more than friends" situation). I take my time with things. But it was time for a change of venue, so we walked down the street to Lavaca Street Bar.
To cap off the night, I just ordered a beer. Deacon kept wanting to talk about trust again and why don't I trust him. I said I'm still getting to know you better. He convinced me to do the "fall into my arms" trust exercise. I agreed. But just as I was about to fall, I caught a glimpse in a mirror of him flinching out of the corner of my eye, and I caught myself.
You would have thought I'd just run over a baby if you were judging by the way his attitude changed to a "how dare you? how could you?" tone. I told him about what I saw in the mirror and he denied it. I told him it was a dumb game and I didn't want to play. He kept pressing and I said, "This is the end of the discussion. I'm not discussing this any more." But like a child, he wanted to get his way and have the last word or at least continue to press my buttons. I told him that if he wanted me to trust him then he needed to give me a reason to trust him and not play some stupid game with me. He argued his defense. I whipped out my digital voice recorder and started recording: his side vs. my side of this silly argument. I told him he'd had too much to drink and that when he was sober tomorrow, he could listen to how irrational he was sounding.
After that, we shared a cab back to his house, and I said, "This is why you are single. You go after women with drama, and I will have nothing to do with it. I don't want any part in drama. I'm not going to let you pick a fight with me over nothing." I don't know if he heard any of it or processed any of it or will remember any of it, but when we got back to his house, I didn't even go inside. I just said goodnight and got in my car and drove home.
I'm a little disappointed that the night ended this way. I was beginning to enjoy my time hanging out with Deacon and getting to know him and not having to make any decisions about trust or kissing or conflict resolution. But it is what it is, and there's always tomorrow. And more vodka.
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