Meeting Molly

Originally published in June of 2003 on Clever Title Goes Here.

I’ve been making my silly-yet-sheepish “just met a girl” face for about forty five minutes, and I’ve definitely been trying to tuck my hair behind my ear, which I do when I’m nervous and I like someone. What’s unfortunate is that my hair is cut around my ear now, so it really just looks like I’m tucking phantom hair… Gosh, I’m rambling. Well, that makes it official. I must really like her.

I wish I had taken pictures. I normally don’t have fun at clubs, but tonight was a blast. Gaby, Sarah, Allison, and I went to the Egyptian Room in celebration of Pride. Molly was standing by a post on the edge of the dance floor when Allison nudged me and told me to go ask her to dance. Whoa! Hold the phone. Me? Ask someone to dance? I’d rather ask them to give me a root canal. In what can only be explained as the Red Bull and vodka running through my system, I decided to play against type and see what happened. It was dark and noisy. If she said no, it wasn’t like there would be a choir heralding my rejection. Plus, I had the added bonus of my father’s voice running through my head, “All she can say is no.”

When she said yes, I nearly tripped and fell. I mean, it wasn’t the signing of the magna carta or anything, but it was a small victory. I do not picture myself as the type of person that picks people up at clubs. In fact, my view of my dating self is very much like the character that Drew Carey plays on The Drew Carey Show. So the fact that this totally cute girl said yes was really, really cool.

After we danced for a while, I asked her if she wanted to keep dancing or if she wanted to take a break and get a drink. She led me over to the bar, where we stood in what we thought was a line and talked for about twenty minutes. By the time we figured out that the “line” wasn’t going to move, last call had come and gone.

Luckily, we were still able to order sodas, so we sipped Diet Coke and talked some more. When her friends came over to tell her it was time to leave, I asked her for her phone number, wanting it with a sincerity that I hadn’t felt in months.

And then my friends came over to tell me it was time to go home. What great timing. I needed to get home… needed to get to my journal… had to make this moment last as long as possible…

Because I’ve been making my silly-yet-sheepish “just met a girl” face for about forty five minutes.


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