I found your blog, but I found nothing to warrant your question. I'm disappointed.
I know I don't lead the craziest life in the world, but if he found this site, there's no way he'd be so blasé. I replied:
Either you're bluffing or you're referring to [non-incriminating old blog], which is easy to find.
I thought that if Film Felix went to all the trouble to try to find my "scandalous" blog, there must be some interest, right?
Guess what? It doesn't matter. Film Felix did not step up. Like Coldplay Guy and many men before him, he played the passive card. I was disappointed, too.
Sometimes it's difficult to see just what kind of unacceptable behavior you've been tolerating from men... until you see how it should be.
Enter Drama David, Stage Left.
We met at a subdued West Village restaurant/lounge.
My hair didn't look like I had spilled coffee on it (hooray!).
It took a little while to settle my nervousness, so I might have chattered on a bit too much a first. He was wearing the perfect first date male ensemble (Desperate Guy, are you paying attention?): jeans, nice button-down, sport jacket, polished shoes.
As we talked, our knees touched under the table. I found that reassuring.
We delved right into the first order of business, which was his grievous inability to love Favorite Band as much as I do. He pulled out the list of songs I wrote out for him to download and said he couldn't find many of them at iTunes, so he went to a record store instead and... bought Favorite Band's Greatest Hits.
That was so damn cool. Even if he wasn't instantly enamored by the breathtaking song stylings of Favorite Band, the fact that he went to so much trouble is commendable. I have faith that someday he will see the light.
More conversation, I'm starting to relax, Drama David suggests we go somewhere else. I mention a bar around the corner I have always wanted to visit. We go there and he sits across the table from me for a few minutes, then comes around and sits next to me. Puts his arm around me. That's more like it. We order drinks, talk some more, and finally there's some smooching... quality smooching... in fact, I'd like to pause for a moment to recall said smooching... Okay, I'm back.
Drama David starts asking about the "secret" blog. I tell him I know he is going to find it someday, but that for now I couldn't tell him any more about the pesky thing.
"Okay, then let's talk about this scandal your blog was involved with."
I had mentioned this to him at the party.
"So it was the Village Voice."
"Did I mention the Voice to you on Saturday? I guess I must have." I tried to think back.
The room got a little darker. I definitely didn't mention this at the party. "Um..."
"Nick Sylvester?" He took a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. A printout.
A printout of this blog.
I put my head in my hands. "Oh no."
I couldn't look at him.
"You asked me to tell you if and when I found it, so I'm telling you."
[to be continued...]