Sigh. He fucking ripped my heart out. I dated/fucked/lusted over/friended/whatevered him for just a month and a half and in those few short days, weeks, whatever, he managed to sweep me off my feet and then stomp on my heart as if I was nothing, meant nothing.
We had a very lovely first date. He invited me to go to a Sixers game with him on a Friday night. He said his roommate bailed on him because had a date so he wanted to know if I wanted to go or if I even liked basketball, or sports for that matter. I said sure and in the back of my head foresaw this date going nowhere, other than another funny social experiment to laugh about later in the week to my girlfriends about the boring dude who took me to the lame Sixers game. But this story doesn’t go like that, kiddos. Quite the contrary.
We met at market east station. I ran up the stairs to try to ease my nervousness, my heart beating a little unsteadily, and my palms a bit sweaty, Nervous, shit. I was wearing my bright red pop-of-color, menswear-inspired free people top and my short ruffled geren ford high-waisted black silk skirt, leopard flats, my grandma’s gold earrings, simple makeup, free flowing hair. Obviously. We met in the middle of the platform and he was wearing a form-fitting cotton three-buttoned navy blue j crew shirt and dark jeans. He had broad shoulders, a tight ass, and the fucking cutest grin on his face. And his voice was adorable and sexy all at the same time. Goddamn. He was a lot hotter than I thought he’d be…shit, now i’m a bit more nervous.
We hugged and went on our way for drinks and appetizers at my go-to place, Farmer’s Cabinet. Which I suggested. Obviously. We make small talk from the train station to 11th and walnut. The hostess seats us at those cute barrels with a stool on each side. We surprisingly have a lot in common despite having virtually nothing in common. We’re two completely different people. I’m a free spirited, liberal, fashion-loving, party girl and he’s a disciplined runner and economist who comes from a fiscally republican military family. Yet were both from Cincinnati, Ohio, like some of the same kinds of music, and have mutual friends who went to Ohio State. Those are the minimal things we have in common. We laugh about how our two worlds have collided and landed us both in Philadelphia and on this date together. We nervously and curiously pick out fancy, mixology drinks and pretentiously overpriced snacks of pretzel with spicy Dijon mustard and salmon tartar or something like that. We share them and he breaks me off a big piece of the pretzel because he “doesn’t want me to go hungry”. He pretends he likes the salmon and I grin because I knew he’d just much rather eat the goddamn pretzel. But he doesn’t. He seems so sweet. After drinks and small plates, I excuse myself to the restroom. I come back to him ready to go to the basketball game, already paid the bill I didn’t even get a chance to pretend to ask to split. I bet it was A LOT. More than I’d ever wanna pay for a date. But, whelp, what can I do.
So we walk outside in the humid Philadelphia pre-summer evening and catch a cab down Broad Street to the stadium in South. We sit awkwardly on either side of the back seat, my shaved and exposed legs perfectly crossed, my head feeling a bit tipsy and him sitting upright yet relaxed, probably a bit buzzed, as well. I’m still unsure of whether I really like this guy or not or if he even really likes me. I mean, realistically, we’re so fucking different, how could he like me?
I insist he let me pay because I can only imagine how much this date is costing him (… which he later disclosed to me… weird “Matty”). He lets me pay and I give the cabbie about 13 dollars. We walk towards the stadium and he hands me my printed out 8 ½ x 11 ticket (which I still have…. UGH). We’re quickly immersed in a sea of people dressed in red, white, and blue, proudly representing their fave Philly team that throws balls in baskets. We decide to meet back at our seating entrance after a quick bathroom break. Once reunited, he buys himself a yuengling and me a blue moon and I actually am really excited to drink this beer (yes kiddos, Marisa Sadie wants to drink a beer) and be at this basketball game. I’m having fun.
To be continued… until tomorrow.