I can’t say where we met, because your column is too popular. Of course, it was a bar, where he signaled from across the room for the bartender to bring me another cocktail, a rare happening on the mountain. I waved him on over to our table.
He looked so good and smelled even better. My girlfriends giggled uncontrollably, while my stomach did somersaults and the butterflies banged away at my female parts.
That night, our first date lasted six hours. After more drinks and more interesting conversations—and telling him all abut me—he challenged me to a game of pool. (I’m sure he let me win.) During karaoke, we slow danced to what he dubbed “our song.” Again, I can’t say where.
Of course, we exchanged numbers. Then suddenly, just a dash kiss to my cheek and he was gone, out the door. Just as the sun was rising, I surprised him with a sweet good morning message and he responded with non-stop texting until, poof, he was gone again. I’ve tried calling and texting, but I get no response.
I’ve seen the movie How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, but less than 24 hours? What was it that I could have said or done to turn him off? I’m a single mom of three with lots to offer a special guy. For a fleeting moment I thought he could be the one. What say you?
Optimistic in VOE
Dear Optimistic,
Mama, where are your kids while you are out making a darned fool of yourself?
I’m glad to hear you didn’t throw yourself at a complete stranger and drag him out to the backseat of your car. Or are you omitting the incriminating stuff along with the name of “your song” just in case your mother reads my column?
I would not discount the influence that alcohol may have had on your magical six-hour date. It’s a sad fact that in the darkness of a cowboy bar two gin and tonics can upgrade a fat Jack Black to a strapping Colin Firth even before karaoke starts up. Face it, woman, you don’t know how many he’d had before he hit on you.
In good times gone by, the butterflies used to describe fluttering stomach implosions signaling a pleasant and exciting physical connection. Unfortunately, amidst the abundance of sociopathic morons, nowadays it’s your gut telling you to run as fast as you can! I’m happy that he beat you to it.
(Day No. 50 of my sobriety; I’m such a grouch.)
Sidney
Send your questions for Sidney to Sidney@thealpinemountaineer.com or by snail mail to Dear Sidney, The Alpine Mountaineer, P.O. Box 4572, Crestline, CA 92325.
This advice is intended for entertainment purposes only. No animals were harmed in the writing of this column.
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