UPDATED! aaron, san francisco, circa nov. ‘09
i was super-excited when i got the text late one sunday night.
“hey laura, it’s aaron. any interest in checking out my friend’s burlesque show at the makeout room tomorrow night?”
i didn’t recognize the phone number, but my heart fluttered when i saw the name “aaron.” ahhhhh! AARON!!!!! i loved aaron! aaron was the sweetsmartfunnycoolweirdlyadorable jewish dude i’d gone on a few dates with last year. i’d met him online (ugh — but of course). we’d hit it off, had a sweet 2nd-date kiss, and then he’d promptly flipped his sh*t and realized he wasn’t ready for a relationship.
we had maintained a pseudo-friendship since then, checking in with each other via facebook every once in a while. we”d even met for lunch once, like real friends are wont to do, but we hadn’t communicated offline since we’d stopped “dating.” so for him to text me like this, just outta the blue…? this was big.
before replying to his message, though, i wracked my brain to determine whether i knew ANY OTHER AARONS. it just seemed so random for jewish aaron to suddenly reappear. not that i was complaining, of course.
failing to scrape up any other aarons from the musty recesses of my excitement-addled brain, i replied, “yes! i love burlesque. see you there at 8.”
the next day at work, i obsessed about my approaching date. i planned out what i’d wear, what i’d say, the adorableness of our forthcoming goodnight kiss and the enduring romance it would spark… how good it would feel to finally be able to say “IT HAPPENS! NO, REALLY, IT CAN HAPPEN! SOMETIMES THEY REALLY DO COME BACK! SOMETIMES THEY WEREN’T READY BEFORE, BUT THEY’RE READY LATER!” i couldn’t wait to finally become an internet-dating success story.
unfortunately, love was not in the air for me that evening.
the bar was dark and crowded when i walked in. i scanned the room, and didn’t see him. i started walking toward the back of the club, my eyes darting about madly. still didn’t see him. but i did see…some guy. who was staring at me. who looked vaguely, indefinably familiar. i couldn’t place him. he looked like a guy from OKcupid — someone i’d communicated with about a month before. huh…weird. i stopped. “do i know you? you look really familiar.”
“um… YEAH. are you laura? i’m aaron. i’m supposed to be meeting you here.”
oh, fuck. my heart sank. what? aaron? this guy? i didn’t even know this dude’s name — we’d barely gotten 3 messages deep. i might have given him my number at some point in, like, the second message, but he’d never called, or texted, or anything. um…until last night.
“ok, sorry — i’m confused. i was supposed to meet another aaron here, i thought. i thought i was meeting my, uh, friend adam. i thought he was the one who texted me about meeting for burlesque.”
“wait a sec. you didn’t even know it was ME you were meeting here tonight?” he was staring at me with a not-so-sweet look in his eye. he was pissed, which i guess i could understand (even though this was not entirely my fault).
“well, i wasn’t sure.” gulp. “i’m sorry. this is super-awkward. i had no idea. i feel really stupid. but when you texted me, it didn’t say anything like ‘adam from ok cupid.’ so i just assumed it was my friend adam, this guy i hadn’t seen in a while. i didn’t have his number in my phone anymore, so i assumed…” my voice dribbled off. nightmare.
“whatever. it’s fine. why don’t we just have a drink or whatever?” he turned around and headed toward the bar.
i followed, and fantasized about crawling under a table. or, better yet, running out the door and racing home to my bed.
the night couldn’t end quickly enough. the guy hated me; he truly hated me. no interest in petty conversation. no interest in warm laughs or witty repartee. no interest in (him) getting drunk and making out (he was cute, OK?). nope, he was miserable and he wanted to leave. so we cut the night short after about an hour, and i headed home and laughed my ass off while i listened to the smiths and moped around my house. aaron, the real aaron — of course he hadn’t come back.
but what a ridiculous encounter. what a dumb mistake. what a great story i’d have for my blog!
