Having recently deleted my Tinder account (long story), I went down the old fashion route with Mr Match and added him on Facebook after he came up on my ‘People You May Know’ list. He looked familiar and as it turned out we had gone to High School together and had a host of mutual friends. Somehow our paths had never crossed. Things were looking up…until they weren’t. Turns out not all my hilarity is translated through text message. Ohh..so much profound mortification was felt at this moment that I could do nothing else but stare at my phone, mouth gaping, heart racing, chest reddening for a good 30 seconds. congratulations Liv, this one only took you 27 seconds to ruin!
ENTER: DAMAGE CONTROL! This embarrassing moment was swiftly swept under the rug by my expertise in ‘smoothing awkward out.’ We exchanged numbers and made a date for a craft beer night later in the week.
An hour before go time I decided it was a perfectly reasonable thing to take a 45 minute nap. That way, I could wake up refreshed, rejuvenated and ready to flirt! When I awoke an hour and 15 minutes later, I was dehydrated, bloated and about as appealing as a three-day old tuna sandwich.
No time for make-up, no time for ironing (Yes Mother, I know I look tacky), I raced out the door and drove to our spot for the night. I didn’t know what to expect. We hadn’t spoken a whole lot prior to meeting and I was getting my anxious belly feeling as the ‘what if?’ questions raced through my mind. Turns out, I needn’t have worried.
Mr Match was easy-going, funny and perfectly capable of having a conversation. It was quite refreshing to hang out with someone who was interesting and seemed equally as interested in me (one question for you, one question for me). We had a lot in common and laughed for a good portion of the night.
As the drinks flowed, I blurted out something disgusting about nervous poo’s (x2) and Mr Match didn’t even flinch. Rather, he laughed at me and hid his disgust freakishly well. I was impressed. I tempted fate again when I brought vaginal thrush into the conversation. Mr Match still wasn’t fazed. WTF dude! Stop being so chill! You’re supposed to squirm at any word after ‘Vaginal’! It was at this point I had a curious feeling that I had potentially met my match…or at least someone I felt at ease with.
Cocktails were had, war stories were shared and all in all…it was a very successful night. After several fruitless dates with others, it was nice to know that I could click with someone other than my Netflix account.
Time will tell but for right now, I’m alone on a Saturday night watching Steel Magnolias and eating chocolate ice cream from a mug and I wouldn’t change a darn thing. Except, you know…someone to hold me at night, stroke my hair and tell me I’m pretty.