Ever Been Stood Up? Because I Have.

I began dating at 15 years old when I begged my dad to let me go on my first car date with Nathan Wheeler. I have NEVER been stood up in the 14 years since then. Until Friday. For those of you lucky enough to have never experienced this, I liken it to being pooped on by a bird. You feel something on your shoulder (or even your face) and you say to yourself "no, it can't be, that's not what just happened." Then the horror and disgust of the realization hits you. You've been shat upon.

If it hadn't have been for the two gay men who bought me my glass of wine at the bar or my friend Maria who met me for dinner later that evening, I might have been reduced to beer tears. It scares me on many levels - this was the second date with him and my psycho hosebeast radar had not gone off. Am I really that bad at judging someone's character? Yikes. Maybe the next time a man tells me his nickname is "Danger" I won't go on a second date with him. Yep, let's start there.

I Wouldn't Call It a Fetish. Yet.

We all have preferences in the opposite sex. Some women like muscley jock-types, others like men who are tall, dark and handsome and still other women like men in uniform. Pretty typical, eh? Not me. I like accordion players. You heard me right. I dig men who play the accordion. There is something so sexy about men who are a. musicians and b. play an instrument otherwise known as a “squeezebox.” It’s not a fetish, per se… just a preference. Ha.

I am at the 9:30 club with April and a few friends to see Ozomatli. The opening band is on-stage and they are actually pretty decent. They are an Afrobeat band playing big-band funk music. The instrumentation is impressive – they’ve got trumpets, trombones, saxophones and a sweet percussion section. Then all of the sudden the keyboard player pulls out an accordion. ::Swoon:: I get an idea. I ask the girls if anyone has a pen.

I don’t know what came over me – it’s a stunt I might have pulled as a 16 year old (well, let’s be honest, I DID pull a similar stunt when I was 16 and left a note for a musician at Busch Gardens on his music stand). I guess I have a long history of this type of behavior.

After accordion man reads the piece of paper, all of my friends point at me so he knows who wrote him the note. I keep trying to catch his eye but he is in the zone. This might mean that either he isn’t interested or perhaps has a girlfriend. Ah well – still fun to pass a note to a musician while they’re on stage. I’m such a groupie! As soon as he gets off stage he texts me and says “Hello Jamie, I would very much like to take you up on that adult beverage.” Success! It worked!!! I can hardly believe it. My friends are in shock. They can’t comprehend what they’ve witnessed.

Ryan, a.k.a. accordion man, and I grab a drink after the show. He’s a full-time musician and a pretty cool guy. He tells me I made his night (and possibly month) with my note and that it would be gracing his refrigerator when he got home. Says it’s usually the guitar players that get hit on – not the keys player. Ryan is impressed with my gumption. So are my girlfriends. But I have to remind people that it’s not bravery so much as it’s shamelessness.

I am shameless. And rockin’ it. Thanks to my shamelessness, I might have found an accordion-playing beau.

Leaving On A Jet Plane... With My Future Husband?

Airplanes. It’s where the action goes down. I am NOT kidding, folks. I am at the airport on my way to visit my sister in Oregon. I’m flying Southwest, which is indisputably the BEST airline for meeting cute guys. Why? Because you get to pick your seat! That’s right – you scout out the cute guys while you’re in line and then you sit next to them when you board the plane. Freakin’ genius! Oh, and in case you were wondering or had any doubt: yes, I look quite pretty.

I have two legs of the flight – DC to Chicago and then Chicago to Portland. There is a handsome guy who keeps checking me out but he boards long before I do. Let’s call him man number 1. The man in line behind me strikes up a conversation and come to find out he’s from OHIO (like me) and he’s in town interviewing to be a resident at Georgetown hospital. A doctor? Yes, please! We sit near the back of the plane across the aisle from one another and talk the entire flight to Chicago. Man number 1 is actually only a few rows in front of me and I catch him looking back at us – sadly – a few times.

Doctor man gets my business card and he exits the plane in Chicago along with 95% of the passengers. Guess who’s left and also continuing on to Portland? That’s right – handsome man number 1! He finagles it so that we both move up to the front of the plane and sits next to me. He seems unfazed by the fact I just hit it off with doctor man on the previous flight.

His name is Adam. He’s flying to Portland to be with his brother and his dad so that they can put the family dog down. It’s so sweet and endearing that it strikes a sympathetic chord with me. I am unabashedly a dog-lover. ::swoon:: Adam buys me a drink (I told you – airplanes are the NEW bars!) and the flight attendants look at us knowingly. Yep, they’ve seen this before. We literally talk for 5 hours straight. The conversation is easy... not forced at all.

Before we even get off the plane he has already asked for my information and even suggests that we meet up in Portland. Once we land, we are making our way to baggage claim when an older gentleman approaches us.

I don’t think I’ve ever blushed so much in my entire life. Adam is thoroughly amused and after the man tells him we should get to know each other better he replies “yeah, that’s the plan” with a smirk on his face. I even tell the guy about our age difference (I’m 29, Adam is 25) and he has an answer for everything. “That’s perfect, men die sooner anyway.” Well, alright then. There you have it. Maybe I will be sending this crazy man a wedding invite someday. You never know - crazier shit has happened.