On Friday, I went drinking with Willow. We frequent a small place called Bar K and meet other regulars from time to time. Since there is drinking involved, sometime we forget that we even met said regulars (enough cocktails and I'd probably forget meeting the Queen of England). There was one guy we started talking to, Spanish Sam, who said he had met us on a previous outing. I didn't remember him, but I did remember his friend, who had an unmistakable laugh (Willow and I shared many a cringing look when we heard the laugh).
Willow and I did some shots with Laughing Lenny, Spanish Sam and their coworkers and chatted a bit. After a couple of Jager Bombs (a shot of Jagermeister dropped into a glass of Red Bull...the horror, the horror), I decided it would be a good idea to play matchmaker and set up Willow with Spanish Sam. I got her permission first, then scrawled her name and number on a napkin and dashed outside where he was having a cigarette. I gave him a brief rundown of Willow's awesomeness and handed him the napkin. He came back inside with me and said to her,
"Dolly seems to think we should go out."
"Yes, you should. Willow, when are you free?" I asked.
"I'm not doing anything on Monday."
"Spanish Sam, are you free on Monday?" I continued.
"Yeah." He looked amused.
"Good," I nodded. "You'll take Willow out to dinner on Monday."
"He will?" Willow asked.
I moved aside so that the two of them could talk a bit more. I did get concerned a little later because we were all drinking quite a bit and at one point Willow was convinced that Spanish Sam had a British accent.
I shook my head. "No accent, and definitely not British. He's Spanish."
"Really?" Willow looked over at him, confused. "He really sounds like he has an accent. Maybe Australian?"
"No, I swear, he doesn't have an accent." I laughed.
I still need to get the full scoop, but Monday's dinner seemed to go very well. I'm glad, because Willow is one of my favorite people and it is ludicrous that she doesn't have a line of men around the block eager to date her.
Watching her and Sam flirt on Friday, I felt a little twinge of something. Not envy exactly, maybe something more akin to nostalgia. Those beginning moments of courtship, the initial flirtation, the first kisses, are so exciting. Sometimes, it's almost like you get to bypass real life a bit to indulge in a heady fantasy. Of course, that's temporary, and eventually you get more comfortable with your partner. You burp and fart and snore in each others' presence. You don't always get dressed up and don't always bring your A game and "hang out" more often than have actual dates. At the same time, you have somebody who you can depend on, someone to love, who will take care of you when you're sick or hungover (hello, Jager Bombs!), who understands you and your quirks and who you can be completely yourself around, somebody who you can talk to about practically anything.
There are advantages and disadvantages of getting comfortable with somebody. On one hand, I like being so at ease with BF David that I can wear jeans and no make-up around him. On the other hand, I do feel like we could use a jump start and bring the passion up a notch. Luckily, we will have such an opportunity very soon. We're leaving town at the end of the week to attend Clarissa's wedding. It's going to be the first time we have travelled together and stayed in a hotel together. Like many people, there's something about hotel rooms I find incredibly sexy. Add to that the fact that we will be all dressed up and I think we have a recipe for a pretty exciting and fun weekend. Plus, unlike in my single days, once Monday rolls around, I won't have to worry whether or not he's going to call.