Admittedly, I've had a couple of ONE-NIGHT STANDS in my life. Not recently, and not a choice I'd make today, but during my graduate school days at Columbia University, I had a particularly notable one-night stand that ended in a scene made for a horror movie. I believe it is worth retelling; it's story-worthy.
I was bartending at a "Fancy Nancy" event on the campus of CU. Yeah, I wasn't one of the people who didn't have to hustle to survive while in grad school. I had to work a lot and make it look like I wasn't working my ass off...I think I pulled it off now and again, but for the most part, I was forever running, with my hair on fire, from theater rehearsals to my dorm director job to arbitrary side jobs that paid for my groceries and my flip phone.
I was bartending this fundraising event when a very dapper, handsome man, wearing a navy blue sports jacket with a bow tie and pants with a cool print. He had a solid, athletic build, was on the shorter side, and I found him adorable. He approached me (at my end of the pseudo-bar) and asked me for a glass of champagne. I responded, "...because you're the best-dressed man in the room, you're entitled to a BOTTLE of CHAMPAGNE," and I slammed a new bottle of PERSECO-y sort of champagne down hard on the bar and popped the cork. It was a performance with a splash of tongue & cheek humor, but clearly, I was uninhibited and not intimidated. Being a female bartender placed me in an in-charge position that freed me from feeling shy or needing to "behave" in a way if one were seeking to be asked out or, at the very least, yearning to be found attractive. I remember him standing there with his hands in his pockets, laughing, and throwing his head back in a way only a privileged, confident man wearing pants with a bright print would.
Then, without a beat, he took the bottle off the bar and said, "I'll save it for us both. I'll pick you up after this shindig is over."
So as not to lose my edge or my presumed position of power, I retorted, "Yeah, we'll see about that!" Two hours later, I was in a cab, headed downtown, and we talked the night away at his local watering hole. I had to get back uptown, and so, I said goodbye in a rather harried manner, as I had a rehearsal at school very early the next morning. We liked each other. Before I left, we exchanged contact info; by the time I arrived home, he had left me a voicemail. He invited me to dinner that night. I returned his call and unequivocally accepted the invite.
I arrived at his apartment for our date, and he answered the door wearing what I considered expensive casual clothing. He was my kind of dresser. And what I found even more attractive was the fact that he had an apron on. He was actually cooking for me. I almost pinched myself because I couldn't he was cooking me dinner at his apartment and had dressed up for the occasion. But moreover, I needed a REAL meal instead of the on-the-run crap I was accustomed to eating.
OFF TO A GREAT START!
He invited me in to have a seat in his living room (OMG, this man had a REAL living room in his Tribeca NYC apartment...it wasn't HUGE, but it was a real living room, and my knees didn't touch the opposite wall when sitting on the toilet in his bathroom).
I'VE STRUCK GOLD!
As he cooked, he talk-yelled from the kitchen to the living room, asking me the usual questions people ask each other people on first dates/one-night stands. And then, he popped his head into the living room and offered me a cool glass of fresh lemonade. I accepted and got up to follow him into the kitchen (it was only about 20 steps I would have had to take), but he insisted on serving me. SO AMAZING, RIGHT? As I waited for him to bring the lemonade, I looked around his apartment, and as my eyes scanned upward toward the ceiling, there was a BOA CONSTRICTOR wrapped around the wood beam between the entryway and the living room wall. I screamed to him and stuttered while backing up out of my seat on the sofa. He entered the living room and calmly said, "Oh, you met EVE."
I was distraught and near hysteria as she was moving, and I don't remember exactly what happened after my mini-stroke, but there was begging involved, grabbing at him, and some pleading to put EVE in her BOA CONSTRICTOR cage. He was reticent to do so, and I remember telling him I was leaving if he didn't put her away, so he acquiesced. He reached up, and she (EVE) slowly, willingly, gracefully slid onto his shoulders and into his arms. Then, he put her in his closet, loose.
JESUS. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING! GOD. THINGS WERE GOING SO WELL.
He suggested that we go out for dinner as a way to soothe me. Although he was not responding as I expected him to, he believed he was being very considerate. And on some level, his minimal gestures of kindness made me trust him and calmed me down.
As we exited his apartment and waited for the elevator, I remember pressing the down button a few times, quickly, in succession. He looked at me and said, "Once will do. You don't need to press it over and over. It's not going to come faster just because you want it to. (and while saying this, he exaggerated and mocked how I was pressing the elevator button).
RED FLAG IGNORED.
We went to a local Italian Restaurant in Tribeca with strings of lights on the awnings, big windows, and many tables that we positioned close together. It was like a European date. It was magical. We ate delicious food, talked for hours, and discussed the EVE moment. I explained with a bit of a bite to my tone that it wasn't as if I was screaming because he owned a goldfish or had a pet turtle, bird, or puppy. I was in a room with a full-grown BOA, and truth be told, I think MANY people would have had a similar reaction. The evening moved forward (DON'T ASK ME WHY), but I returned to his apartment. We REALLY LIKED EACH OTHER. I TRUSTED THAT HE HEARD MY CONCERNS ABOUT EVE, and he PROMISED that upon returning to his apartment, he would put her in her cage and that all would be well.
Once he assured me EVE was put to bed and fed, I entered the apartment believing she was put away; I decided to take him up on his offer to stay the night.
WHAT WAS I THINKING?
Fifteen minutes in, I heard a banging on the closet door, no more like a thumping, a HARD, LOUD thumping. He told me to relax and said that EVE was in the closet; that she wanted to come out.
WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT? SHE WANTS TO COME OUT? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
As he got up to get EVE, I gathered my belongings in the darkness and headed for the door.
I dressed in the hallway through hot, wet tears of fear and upset.
I called for the elevator and pressed that DOWN button really hard a whole bunch of times.
THINGS TO ADD TO MY ABOUT HOPE LIST:
31. I DO NOT LIKE SNAKES
32. I AM NOT SEEKING A ONE-NIGH-STAND or FLING
33. I AM A GRADUATE OF COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY WITH AN MFA
34. I AM A BIG TIPPER and TREAT WAIT STAFF WITH RESPECT
35. I LIKE TO SWEAR
36. I AM GOING TO BE WORKING AS A WAITRESS/SANDWICH MAKER THIS SUMMER @ THE CAPE
37. I LOVE MY APARTMENT & I LOVE THE UPPER WEST SIDE (NYC)
38. I WANT A DOG
39. I LIKE TO LAUGH AND BE SILLY
40. I CONSIDER OTHER PEOPLE'S FEELINGS
