Craigslist. Do I need say more?
Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve probably heard of Craigslist, the Internet God of the classifieds section from hell, on steroids. According to Wikepedia, as of August 9, 2012, over 700 “cities” in 70 countries have Craigslist sites.
I’ve never been a fan. Craigslist is the kind of place better off reserved for emergency situations. There is some sort of hope there, on Craigslist. But for all the high traffic, it’s a lonely place.
I was pretty inebriated one chilly night in February, circa 2006. It was party all the time, party all the time, party all the ttttimmmmeeee. (s/o Eddie Murphy/Rick James!) I was over at the house of a guy I slept with from time to time. He was a drunk, so when I was with him, I never felt like my own vices were that bad. Self confidence boost. He was also cheap and only bought me drinks on special. Despite his GS-13 pay grade, 2-for-1 draft beer Thursday night was a big fuckin’ deal, as Vice President Joe Biden would say.
Remember, this chilly February night, I was definitely not sober. This is relevant. In fact, I’d say I was on a different planet, and I should’ve stayed in. But the guys, all equally el cheapo compadres, (all single. all pulled in 100k+) wanted to go to Bungalow’s. It was 2-for-1 beer night, after all!
Bungalow’s, a large bar/restaurant, was packed! Nine-to-Fivers, federal employees and other DC metro citizens just wanting to cut loose on a Thursday night. They seized the night, the bar, the pool tables, and the dance floor.
I was standing there in the middle of the bar, zoning out. The guys were all talking about boring guy stuff, name dropping things that were too boring to name drop, like names of Division Chiefs and federal government agency acronyms. The guy I came with was essentially ignoring me. But I didn’t expect much from a person who was arrested for “Drunk in Public” while checking the mail, in his own 3×3″ patch of front yard. At this point in my life, I knew what the lesser evils were.
I balanced myself by leaning against the table. The room buzzed with Top 40s hits and 8,000 simultaneous conversations. Blurry. Bored. Paranoid by the fact that I was so not myself, and being out in public. And then, something happened.
The crowd parted. A man, followed by a small entourage walked thru and stopped in front of me. He was dressed all in white. Tall, muscular, with locks of dark hair and blue eyes. He looked like Superman. He was beautiful. He grabbed my hand and did a Tim Tebow. “Girl, you are beautiful.” And then, he kissed my hand. Everyone was looking. I couldnt handle the pressure. “Thank you” I mumbled, and then took off for the Ladies Room.
I am still kicking myself. Can you tell?
We left right after that. “Who was that guy? Wow. He was the best looking guy. I can’t believe you ran to the bathroom.” Yes. From the mouths of straight men.
I woke up completely mortified the next morning, on account of the fact that last night’s divine intervention had come and unceremoniously went. Superman had finally swooped in to fly me away, and instead I ran to the bathroom. What in fresh Miller Light hell had I done? It was a major case of the sadz.
There was nothing left. And so I did what any self-loathing, hungover young lady would do. Over on Craigslist, I found the right section, and posted an ad.
Don’t cry for me, Washington, DC.
ISO guy dressed all in white, at Bungalow’s in Springfield. Last night, you introduced yourself. When I came out of the bathroom, you were gone. If you read this, I’d love a second chance.
The ensuing silence of my Hotmail inbox was excruciating. Refresh. Refresh. Nothing. Refresh.
By the end of the day, only 2 responses: one from a random guy who goes to Bungalow’s and would like to meet me tonight instead. The other message was also from a man (not SUPERman) who’d be at Bungalow’s later. He reminded me, “these kinds of things only happen once.”
Thanks. For nothing. Craigslist.