It's A Match!: "It's like collecting under my tits..."

Begin Act 2. 

            Okay, lets recap.

1. I’d describe myself as a persnickety individual with slapdash reasons as to why I might consider a girl attractive. 
2. Regardless of my pickiness, when it comes to women, and especially new ones, I pine for their company -- religiously. Therefore, I’ll continue in my Tindering until I’m “locked down" or I need to "jump ship." 
3. I'd consider dating these days to be a botched impersonal judgment call based off of "mutual interest."
4. I matched with what seems to be an attractive member of the opposite sex on Tinder. This specimen then proceeded with the desire to have us communicate more personally via text. (Oohhh!)
5. We are meeting tomorrow and I’m shaking like a toothpick in a toothless mouth.

That should be all the catch-up that you need.

Fade In: Love’s the key to the things that we see... (The War On Drugs)

On with the story!

            After reviewing Roberts’s congratulatory text message, I set my phone on my bedside table only to hear it vibrate once more. Could it be Claire again? (Oh those saucy minxes, staying up late to text me. Daddy like) I slung my body across my bed, dismembering a pillow in the process and snatched up the phone. It was not Claire. Instant mild disappointment, but then I noticed it from another female (playa, play!), my good friend Caitlin. For the past year Caitlin has been living in Paris, France as an au pair. We’ve kept in touch over the past year through text messages and face-timing ever since she left.  But now she’s back in the states and more importantly according to her text message, she is now in the Chattanooga area.  Caitlin has had to deal with my insane behavior, poorly timed inappropriate jokes and periodic advances for well over four years now (She is quite the bombshell). I can attest to this fact though, this woman has a lot of patience and when it came time to shoot me down (twice?) , she was the nicest girl ever about the process. But now we are steadfast friends and I simply cannot imagine my life without her. I responded to her text in a heartbeat by saying that we need to catch up; also inquiring when and where would be the best time to hang out. She tells me – tomorrow night! Without even thinking about it, I say, “Duh”. After I set my phone down a few minutes go by and I think about Claire again. What it will be like meeting this mysterious girl tomorrow, I wonder what she'll wear, then it clicks... shit. I double booked myself. How am I going to balance tomorrow night? I’m such an idiot.    

        

FADE TO THE NEXT MORNING: A Steady Riot – Big D and the Kids Table

It’s one thirty in the afternoon. The most perfect time to wake up, except when it's in cold sweats because you awoke from a nightmare about spilling a mug of piss all over your self. (Wait... that’s the last time I met a girl off the internet. I’ll tell that one later) I rolled over and sat up, checking myself in the mirror. Checked my phone. Nope, no texts from Claire, just a couple of emails about haircuts and a few notifications from LinkedIn reminding me to connect to some Iranian dude with a great beard. But it’s today! Today I was going to meet Claire and that was all I could think about. I paced around my floor for what seemed to be a solid ten minutes, never shying too far from my phone. What if she texts? What if she calls? What if she does neither and leaves me hanging like dust in the wind? What if she says, thanks but no thanks I’d rather get speared by a troll? OR! What if she shows up in the Princess Leia bikini? All of these options where entirely possible and they only got worse as the day went on, a.k.a the next several hours (For some men, an hour of wondering what a girl is thinking might as well be a full 24 hours. The sun should rise and set. That’s what it feels like). So I texted her.

            “So I probably should have checked that last text for typos. I was clearly getting tired. So what’s your plan for today?”

First of all, I was not getting tired. It was only 12:45 at night when we had last spoke and I typically don’t conk out until four a.m. Secondly, I had to know if I was a part of her plans today. It would totally help me work out how and when I was going hang out with Caitlin. Needless to say though, in less than 24 hours I had built up the same amount of anticipation about meeting this girl than I previously had done when I was five years old in hopes for a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Tank. See the thing is that my had Mom promised to buy me this toy thank when I successfully learned to peed in the toilet, instead of all over myself -- obviously. Mom eventually caved after I had sat on the toilet and urinated all over the wall instead of my self, progress! * beep beep * [grabs phone at lighting speed] Claire responded right away. Fist pump! This is a good thing, yes? In her text she told me that she was going shopping in Atlanta, then off to pick up some applications for work. She finished with, “What about you?”

She’s going shopping in Atlanta? Immediately I was crushed. If she’s driving to Atlanta then there’s no way she’ll want to drive up to Chattanooga. From my experience it’s like pulling teeth to get a girl to go to a bar that's only ten minutes from their couch much rather than trying to convince a random girl that’s never met me to drive another 45 minutes out of her way.
Alright, this is my time not to sound desperate or weird, because obviously I’m not. So I went on to tell her that I was planning on going to a free concert with some friends around eight, but then I inquired if I should count her out for the evening... [Transcribed for evidence]

Me: [the concert] will be fun. So should I count you out for being in this area today?

Claire: No. I could totally come up that way.

Me: This is great news.

Claire: I’m not sure what time. I’ll try to make it before your plans.

Me: No rush. It sounds like you have a busy day planned. But I’ll be here with a drink in hand.

It looks like we are still on! And it seems that she also is planning on making it up here before the concert. That’s perfect. I’ll be able to spend time with her, one-on-one, before she meets anyone. I am a firm believer that it is better to assess the situation without outside influence before bringing in friends that are way too familiar with your drinking habits. These friends, especially the lady-folk, want the best for you, and thats awesome, but they can be protective like a T-Rex; any fast movement and you could be maimed in the crossfire. And this rule double applies for girls that you've met online because nothing sounds sketchier to your close friends than, “Oh, yeah... we’ve never met. She could be a cave-troll...”

I needed a way to calm my self down and keep cool. So like any other dude who works in front of their computer all day, I turned on my Xbox and burned several hours by playing Skyrim. I decapitated innocent travelers on the road, slayed dragons and boosted my enchanting ability; super nerdy stuff that hardly ever involves a real-life woman (I'm just trying to enter into a spirit of adventure). Around six I got a text from my buddy Bob asking what I was up to, so I headed over to his house to hang with him and his boys. While we were there I told Bob I had something to tell him, but not in front of his kids. Bob’s been there for me in more ways than one. He’s ripped me apart with loving jokes at parties in front of many and has also been there for me privately when I was bed ridden when I had cancer.

            We stepped out onto the front porch and sat on the stoop. I told him that I was going to meet this incredibly hot girl and that he should share in my excitement.

Bob: “That’s cool man. What time are you going to meet her?”

Me: “Um...[looks at phone] well I told her to be here around 6-ish and it’s now... 6:14.”

Bob: “Right... you should probably text her.”

Me: “I can’t do that. That’s like breaking the code, you know... the code that men aren’t supposed to break because upon breaking the code, it’s now a broken code slash, seal thing and girls don’t like ... that.”

Bob: “What the fuck is the code?”

Me: “Don’t seem desperate.”

Bob: “Okay, that makes sense. They can smell that shit a mile away.”

But, as if Claire had heard her name echo in-between the Chattanooga valley walls my phone lit up with a text message from her. Bob gave me a sly grin and asked me if that was Claire. It was in the same tone that he used to talk to his ten-year-old son. I just looked down and sheepishly said "yes." Claire was inquiring as to where we were going to meet later that evening. So like any normal person would do I sent her the address to the Pickle Barrel, my favorite bar in the middle of down town Chattanooga. Instant confusion followed.

Claire: Just give me an address of a bar somewhat close to me so I can have my daughter’s grandparents to babysit.

(She has a kid?)

Me: Got cha. Let's meet at the pickle barrel. Great bar. 1012 Market St, Chattanooga, TN 37402

- Get off on MLK exit. Make a right. Then turn right on broad street. First left onto tenth street. Half way make a left into the EPB parking garage. I have a badge for the parking garage. You can pull in, grab a ticket but we can leave together so you don't have to pay.

- Does that make sense?

Claire: Find one closer. Random Idc.

- Closer to me.

- Google machine 

Me: Oh, find a bar closer to you?

Claire: Yes. Like 30 or 40 miles

At this point I showed Bob the text messages. “Wait, is she trying to get you to come to her?” he said with confusion. “Uhhh, I have no idea. What should I do?” Bob got up and shook his hands, “No way man, you guys made plans for her to come see you. Say no way lady, but then try to kindly reschedule this madness.”

Me: So Google Machine in Summerville?

- Okay. I'm totally down for going to Summerville. But I was under the impression you were coming here. And I made promises to meet up with friends around 8. Would you like to reschedule?

A few seconds had past. I felt a little sick. Was she already backing out? What kind of wimp am I though? I mean at this point I’m basically refusing to get out of my comfort zone. But then she responded in a way that was both weird and made complete sense.

Claire: Come on. Help me lie.

Oh no, she's not backing out. I was helping this girl lie to her child’s grandparents about her soon to be location. Despite my gut telling me that I was already in for an awkward night, I decided to help the girl out and gave her the address to the Chili’s in Dalton. Classy as hell, right? Also, by now it was 7:30 and the concert was going to start in 30 minutes. It's now way past the point where I can juggle Caitlin and Claire. *beep beep* A text message from Caitlin.

Caitlin: Hey! Ashley is coming too, see you soon!

Bob looked at me and the stress was palpable. "Would you like my parking pass? It will at least get you free parking...?" I nodded my head. We walked out to his car, to where he gave me the pass then bid me bon voyage. It felt like he was Han Solo and I was Lando Calrissian in the war room on the eve of the battle of endor.

            Minutes later I arrived in downtown Chattanooga and met up with Caitlin and Ashley at the parking garage. It was a mixture of oddly toned squeals and evolved back-pat-hugs. Both of the ladies were dressed up for a night and I was the awkward turtle with a flurry of different emotions, essentially majorly distracted. We walked and talked as the music began to play. Caitlin told me a few things about Paris, Ashley asked how I was doing but then as soon as there was a moment, Caitlin and Ashley immediately inquired into the whereabouts of this mystery girl. Caitlin spit-fired question after question while Ashley just stood there smiling and reassuring me that she wasn’t judging. “How old is she? Oh is her mom going to drop her off? No, no I’m sure you tattooed, Star Wars loving chick is going to be fantastic. So where did you meet her?”

Me: “Uh, I met her through a friend...”

Caitlin: “Oh yeah, who? Do I know them? By the look on your face I think you’re lying. UH! Did you meet this girl on OkCupid?!”

Me: “...no”

Caitlin: “You met her on TINDER didn’t you???”

Me: “Yeah... So what!”

Caitlin: “I’m not judging, I’m sure she is going to be fantastic. What’s she like?”

Me: “I have no clue.”

Caitlin: “Wait, so no clue at all?”

Me: “Well she asked me to lie about where she was going... [whispered] so she could drop off her kid.”

Caitlin: “She HAS a kid?!”

Me: “Look, she could be really awesome.”

Caitlin: “Her or the kid?” 

Me: "Her of course..."

            About another 30 minutes had passed while we stood in the crowd listening to two equally as loud noises. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah was rocking out on the stage about 25 feet from me and then there was Mike Walker, an old college friend standing directly in front of me. His brown fro would bob up and down obscuring my view of the lead singer. Mike jabbered on about bands he has seen this year, then questioned me as to why I had not seen the same amount of bands this year. After three or four songs of band questions he then inquired as to how my life has been for the past year. I'd try to reply as shortly as possible, "It was rough Mike." Caitlin and Ashley hung back behind me, probably intentionally, while I stood there with my hand in my pocket holding onto my phone like a clutch. Then it came, the text from Claire “Hey, I’m almost there.” I turned around and looked Caitlin and Ashley in the eyes, “I’m going to go get her.” Caitlin grinned, “Okkkkkay. Good luck.” To which my only response was, “Okay, don’t scare her off when I get back.” I pressed through the crowd and made my way to the parking garage.

Once I got to the corner of 10^th and market I called her.

[Phone ringing...]: “...[muffled sounds]...God...wha..ugh...[muffle sounds continue]....”

Me: “Um hello? Claire? Are you there?
...Hello?”

Claire: “[fuzz]...*heavy sigh* ...Where...I...don’t know....
Hello? Brady? Did I call you?”

Me: “Oh hey! And no, no you didn’t I’ve just been listening to you... breathe (did I just say that?)...So, um, where are you?”

Claire: “I’m at the Chattanooga Choo-Choo, I think... Is there where I’m supposed to be?” 

Me: “Oh, no. Not really. You should have gone a few more blocks down the road. I gave you directions.”

Claire: “I know, I know. Well should I park here. I already pulled into the parking garage.” 

Me: “Well not really, unless you want to walk like five more blocks.” 

Claire: “Ugh, okay. Stay on the line I’m going to put the phone down and get out of this parking garage...” 

Me: “okay...” 

Claire: “[excessive movement]...god... such...idiot. Okay...turn the corner... [hiss/static]...Damn it!...” 

Me: “Claire...? Are you okay....” 

Claire: “...take it... come on... just take it... [buzzing]...just... ugh... go in.
...take it... there!
There we go! Take it....” 

Me: “Claire? What are you doing?” 

Claire: “[picks up the phone] Brady! Are you still there?” 

Me: “Yeah, i’m still here... ” 

Claire: “I’m sorry in advance. I am a wreck right now.” 

Me: “Oh that fine. I’m really sweaty. It’s like collecting under my tits...(Distinct pause).
But um, what were you just doing?” 

Claire: "Oh, I had to pay a dollar to get out of the parking garage.”

Me: “Oh weird, um, well if I had no idea as to what you were doing just then, it would have been quite arousing...” (What did I just say... again) 

Claire: “What?” 

Me: “Nothing... [Notable pause]
...Okay. Alright where do I go from here?”

I stayed on the line with her while I gave her the directions again on how to get to the EPB parking garage. I avidly avoid saying anything else about my sweat, tits or what almost sounded erotic. She pulled up to the traffic light in a nondescript silver Nissan. Well, at least she’s not driving a burnt out truck or a GEO. I’m not a car person, but that would have been a small deduction of points. 

            Me: “...Okay you should see a strange dude on the corner walking in the entrance of...”

            Claire: “Yes! Yes! I see you.” [click]

I was standing in the entrance of the parking garage looking like a dweb with my parking pass from Bob when I first saw her. I felt like a hall monitor, like I wanted to feel cool and powerful, but seriously bro – you just have a parking pass. She pulled in the entrance and I walked over to her window like a cowboy. Her hair, now seeing her in person was jet black and looked to be as thin as silk as it swooped around her ear and down past her shoulders. Claire stared at me in the oddest way, it made me question if was wearing the right shirt, pants and even underwear. Is this how a women feels? God, what’s happening to me? Then I looked down at my waist and in a microcosm of a second I asked myself if I should I have clipped the parking pass to my belt like... a... fucking... PAGER – what the fuck am I doing! I’m not a lame 90’s Dad or some dude who fakes his profession in airports! I ripped off the badge and looked the devil in the eyes. She saw it all and remained silent in her car as I almost lost my balance approaching her vehicle.

Me: “Well, uh hey there lady. I’m going to scan this here card for you. You go ahead and park anywhere you want.” (Idiot! I’m not John Wayne. Not even cute like Garth from Waynes World)

Claire: “...okay.”

She stared blankly. I stared back, biting my lip wondering how in the world do girls find me attractive. As I scanned the black box the gate took a second and then just stayed there. I panicked; I could feel her eyes watching me. I swiped the card three more times as if it was a beefed out debit card that has seen too many 3 a.m. visits at the Quick Stop. Swipe, swipe, swipe! The gate lifted. I motioned for her to go on ahead but she gestured right back, motioning me to come over. I did as I was told and stood next to her drivers’ window.

Claire: “Hey, why don’t you just get in my car and we’ll ride up together?” she said with the same blank look that I had been seeing for the past minute of what-in-the-hell-am-I-doing. (That wasn’t a question Effler. Get in the car.)

Me: “Yeah, okay.”

I walked around and lifted up on the passenger door handle. It slapped back down with a hard crack, which alerted me to the fact that she had not yet even unlocked her car. I stood there in embarrassment and placed my hands in my pockets. Then the door lock clicked and I hoped in. She was calm and collected despite her prior warning that she was a wreck. I told her to take the first turn on the right and park on the slanted ramp. “Oh, well ummm. Hi, I’m Brady. Nice to finally meet you.” I stretched out my hand for a shake. She smiled and firmly grabbed my had, “Claire, and yes, glad to finally meet you in person as well.” For the first time I could really see her face. Claire had three piercing on her upper lip, a mild spread of lightly colored freckles and small dark eyes that calmed me. She sat there in a black shirt made out of thin material, like fabric of a thoroughly worn band shirt --  the best kind of shirts. She was in a matching black top and had a summer sweater folded at her side. But as I mentioned in part one, there was something about her that I couldn’t place. She reminded me of a part of my life that was a somber secret. I got out of the car and stood there with the car door open just looking at her. My curiosity was hatching and she noticed.

Claire: “What...What are you doing?” 

Me: “Oh, um nothing.”

Claire: “You can close the door if you want. I’ll get out of the car in a second.”

Me: “Oh, yeah sorry. I was just... trying to be a gentleman.

...I think.” I whispered

I closed the door, walked around to the back of her car and stood behind the trunk. I noticed that Claire had folded down her visor mirror. She examined her face, put some Chap Stick on delicately and then tucked her hair further behind her ears. Perhaps she was just as nervous as me. Upon seeing this I found myself much more relaxed and felt the tension ease from my shoulders. She opened her driver side door and stepped out into full vision. Claire was stunning. She was wearing black boots with a pink bandana around her left foot. Storm Trooper socks jetted out from the top of her boots and stopped right below her knee. Her skirt rested a on her like a kimono and she had a complimentary plain black shirt that blended perfectly; if there was a slite breeze it would have been the best still panel in a comic book I’ve seen in a long time. She smiled at me again -- my heart farted.

We stood there face-to-face in the parking garage and scanned each other for a second. It’s the oddest thing knowing that you are being immediately judge, whether it’s good or bad, because it’s not like you can press pause.

Claire: “I’m so glad you got me to park here. That would have been a long walk from the Choo-Choo.” 

Me:“Hey, at least we would have gotten our exercise for the day. But who needs exercise. Fuck that noise.” 

Claire: “Hah! Okay, so where are we going?”

I pointed to the exit of the parking garage and we started on our way out .

Me: “Well I told my friends Caitlin and Ashley that we’d meet up with them at The Bitter Alibi since the headlining bands set is done.”

Claire pouted, “Aw man, it’s over?”

Me: “Yeah I know. I mean if you left earlier....”

Claire: “I know, I know. I just had to drop my child off at her grandparents.”

Me: “Oh, right. So did the lie help at all?”

She giggled and sighed, “Oh, no. I just told them where I was going. I kind of figured, what's the big deal?” That was the second mention of her child. I mean, is it protocol to tell someone about your child on the first, date/hang-out thing? Also, as she was talking, her hand gestures were very familiar. The way she squinted in the light, how her nose crinkled and even how she tucked her hair back behind her ears -- it felt like déjà vu. Where have I seen this person before? But I wasn't given enough time to think, nor really time to react to this freshly deposited information because we started running into everyone in Chattanooga that knew me. We ran into my friend Heather and her new boyfriend. Then I ran into Connie and her friend Pat, which was then followed by a series of drunks that I had shared drinks with at random parties. Oh, then there was this random girl that I had once pet named ‘Elephant’ because I could never remember her real name, and lastly some old college friends. Each person or group wanted to stop and talk to me, and each time Claire stood there patiently, examining me. After the third run-in Claire started opening up and talking to these strangers. She’d say typical girl things like, “Oh I love your outfit” to the random, “Is there a place to ride a mechanical bull around here?” After dodging and weaving through friends, random strangers and drunks we finally made it to The Bitter Alibi where it took a leap to the very up close and personal....

Oh yeah, it just dawned on me. Claire looks and acts just like my ex-fiance from 2007.

Fade out: There's opportunity to tread instead of drown - Built To Spill

Part 3 Coming soon.