Margarita Friday was held at a new bar due to the Internet Week happy hour taking place on the Lower East Side. The benefit is that the place was three blocks away from where one of my friend’s happens to be hosting. Cata, a tapas style restaurant, is a little bit amazing. The drink selection and appetizers are enough to bring me back, even if it is a thirty minute ride on the 6 train.
What was truly unusual about this happy hour is that I found myself wanting to talk to Business about Late Night. This is highly unusual behavior, generally I only want to crack jokes or poke fun. As we chatted, in answering some of the questions, I defined where we are as the in-between time. It’s that period where no one has made any verbal commitment to anything, there are no rules, no expectations and both parties are able to continue on in life. It’s comparable to the honeymoon phase when people first begin dating, but better, because it’s not actual dating and technically you could see other people without having broken any rules.
All of this is good and well, but a few hours later, after everyone had left me and I was heading home, a text came from The Inventor. Long story short, we’re neighbors and occasionally have a drink. So, we met at Toolbox, me having a drink and him having a soda. Usually I would frown upon someone being a party pooper but it was after twelve and I was feeling pretty good. Fast forward the night and we ended up at The Inventor’s place for some light petting.
Everything was going fine and dandy until I realized that I was preoccupied with Late Night. Finally forced to cut things short, I headed home because of the nagging in my head. As I walked, listening to the soundtrack of my night (Manhattan by Sara Bareilles) it was clear that I have a damn crush. Instantly annoyed with myself – I’m about two steps past the line of screwed because Late Night is on Fire Island this weekend. That would have been fine with us in the in-between, but now I’m moving out of that gray area and into disaster land. and my visual on Fire Island is a place where people go to be super sluts, I thank The Devil for being one of those that helped construct this vision.
I’ve kept myself in check as far as not sending any text messages, so the crazy is contained, but it’s getting harder to keep a lid on it. There should be a morning after crush abort pill.