I went out this weekend with the guy who had emailed me through meetup.com. We had emailed back and forth a few times and finally planned to meet for drinks after work at a bar near downtown on Friday.

I first went to an even earlier happy hour with a friend of mine before heading over to meet my date, so I was nice a liquored up for the date… meaning I had one drink and could already feel a slight buzz. I’m a major lightweight!

Anyway, I met up with him and we sat on the patio and chatted for two hours, never dealing with a lull in the conversation. We have a lot in common and we both asked questions back and forth. Because I had to go meet with a friend later that night, I left after 2 hours after agreeing to go to the Denver Botanical Gardens on Sunday.

Things had gone really well and I was looking forward to seeing him again.

Fast-forward to Sunday.

I called him after I was done hanging out with my friends, as I had told him I would do. The Botanical Gardens was closing in 30 minutes, so there was no time to go there– but really, it’s just a bunch of plants… and I’ve been there before and not much changes year to year. I met him at a restaurant close to where I was, but it happened to be closed on Sundays, so we ended up going to a jazz club around the corner.

Let me just throw this out there: jazz club with live music + dinner = a pretty awesome date idea

My date and I continued our ease of conversation, talking about movies we like, things we like to do– you know, the typical first-date questions– when he made a comment that sounded kinda whacky (unfortunately, I can’t remember what the comment was… just know that it was “out there”). Not really thinking about what I was asking, and really only wanting to give him a hard time for saying something so dumb, I said to him “Are you a conspiracy theorist?”

That’s when he responded with “I don’t like that term because it has a lot of negative connotations…” and proceeded to tell me about the different “observations” he’d made about Denver, about Colorado in general, DIA– our airport… He actually spent a good amount of time telling me the “crazy” things people believe about DIA and then explained the “not crazy” things that are suspicious about DIA.

I would like to go on the record to say that I’ve lived in Colorado my entire life, I remember when they built DIA, and I have never looked into the “weird” things that surround DIA. Because really, who cares? If it doesn’t effect me, why do I care if there are buildings buried around DIA?

But now I know– there are buildings buried below the airport, too many tunnels than would be necessary for airport expansion, giant rooms below the airport, demon horses (the horse is a real thing (it’s the stories about it that are whacky)–have you seen the demon horse that greets you when you drive to the airport? Holy crap is that thing freaky! The eyes GLOW!), swastika layouts, phallic symbols (thank you Stephen Colbert!)… the list goes on and on.

I don’t know how he didn’t just get up and leave because my face told him I thought he was an idiot. I have a terrible poker face, and even if I’m telling you one thing, my face will tell you how I really feel/think. So either he’s the least-observant person ever or I managed to not let my true thoughts show through.

We ended up going to get ice cream (hey, a lot can be overlooked if I’m promised ice cream) and walking around continuing our conversation. When I finally dropped him off at his house (he had walked to the restaurant and we had driven to the ice cream place), I realized that I could not care less about seeing him again. Yes, we had a lot in common and he was a really nice guy…

But I just can’t get over the fact that he’s a bit crazy!

Is it weird that I’m glad I went on a date with someone where the story that came out of it was finally a “you will not believe who I went out with this weekend!” kind of story. I’ve had the (un)fortunate fortune to go out with relatively normal, albeit boring, people and the dates are usually “just okay” with nothing interesting to report or tell people about.

So thank you, Conspiracy Theorist, for being my first crazy!

When the crush on A started, I realized it was a mutual attraction (it doesn’t hurt that guys don’t tend to be very hard to read…). He was always so attentive when I came over, even if Mr. Dad was there, and would always put on my favorite band, 30 Seconds to Mars. Never heard of them? Oh my gosh, check them out! He was always complimenting me and engaging me in conversation. Even the texts I would send him when I got home safely from Cruisers would result in about a half-dozen texts back and forth saying goodnight…

After I broke things off with Mr. Dad, I had the awkward task of trying to maneuver a friendship with A and him potentially having to stick to the “Bro-Code” and have nothing to do with me. I didn’t want to blow my chances with A, but I also wanted to respect the fact that Mr. Dad and A have been friends for 20 years.

Thankfully I realized my anxiety was unfounded when I got a text from A to come pick up my bike so I wouldn’t have to ride it home by myself after Denver Cruisers that night. He showed up at my house to pick up my bike, and even in his ratty shorts and a t-shirt, I wanted to pounce him. But I refrained… barely….

I then drove to his house and met up with him and his friends. We all went to Cruisers, me being the only female in a group of 5 guys. We had a blast and when we got to The Circle of Death (yes, it’s that awesome!), A and I went to find some food. As we were walking, I told him about ending it with Mr. Dad. He told me he wasn’t surprised but reiterated that Mr. Dad was a great guy (not that I ever said he wasn’t). I was just thankful he didn’t respond with any sort of “well, we can’t hang out any more,” or “Mr. Dad asked that I not see you any more,” which is what I was afraid of.

After a while, the crowd started to break up and head to the final bar of the night. The guys, now well on their way to being drunk, convinced me to call in sick and come out with them. Because I was feeling so ill (*wink*), I decided that was a fun idea.

I rode with them to the bar where A and I started flirting hard-core. He finally professed his attraction to me, but he was feeling reluctant to do anything because of his friendship with Mr. Dad.

After a few minutes, he leaned over and kissed me! It was a small, short kiss, but enough to give my adrenaline a jolt.

He sure got over that reluctance pretty quickly…

We then spent the rest of the evening flirting, kissing, and being nauseatingly PDA-ful. Thankfully his friends were too drunk to care one way or the other.

It’s been heartbreaking how many guys are atrociously terrible at kissing, but that was not the case with A. A’s kisses were perfect. As I kissed him, I couldn’t get enough of him. I didn’t want them to stop!

I mentioned before that I haven’t dated guys who are my “type.” While kissing A, I realized just how stupid that was. Until that moment, I never realized how important it is to be completely attracted to the person you are with. It adds another layer to the attraction that cannot be contrived or even faked. I wanted to wring my fingers through his curly hair and never let go. I didn’t want the night to end. I’ve never felt that level of attraction before!

We all finally rode back to A’s house where I didn’t get to sleep until 4am… because I was so sick, of course 😉

The final installment and how I spent the day recovering coming up…

I grew up around alcohol, with parents who were deliberate about exposing me and my sister to drinking for the enjoyment, not to get drunk. So alcohol has never been the “forbidden fruit,” because my parents would let us taste what they were drinking– whether wine, liquor, etc. Most of the time, I made a sour-lemon face (I wear my thoughts/feelings on my face), so that also helped to deter me away from drinking like a fish later in life.

I’m a total lightweight– duh! considering I only weigh 95 pounds. But I also am extremely sensitive to alcohol. I’ve gotten better at not getting sick any time I have more than 2 drinks in a night, but I still could never “get wasted.” I also don’t like the feeling of being drunk, so that is never my end goal– getting drunk, or even tipsy, comes as a surprise to me since I’m drinking for the enjoyment, not necessarily the buzz.

I do have a favorite drunk story, however, because it completely embodies my experience with alcohol. About 95% of the time, if I drink too much, I won’t get drunk, I’ll get sick. It’s quite pathetic, I know. However, I went to a friend’s housewarming party, all in the hopes of making new friends and experiencing new things. There was alcohol everywhere! Throughout the night, I had 2 (very strong) jello-shots, a margarita, and some beer in a game of flip-cup. For most people, that’s not a lot of alcohol, but man oh man, it hit me unexpectedly like a ton of bricks. One minute I was totally fine and completely drunk the next! I went and sat down on a chair and tried to get my eyes to focus on the floor, but the floor wouldn’t stop moving. It then dawned on me that I was drunk… and more importantly, I was drunk and wasn’t getting sick in the bathroom. It was actually one of the most exciting moments of my life. BUT there was no one there who could appreciate what an accomplishment not getting sick from alcohol was– I only knew two people at the party, and at the time were not good enough friends to share the moment with. My excitement had to wait until the next day where I could call people who could appreciate my accomplishment from the night before.

Am I a cheap date or what? 🙂