Originally posted 06/28/2005 7:37pm
It's 4 months util my birthday. Birthdays have always been a big deal for me. While I was growing up, it was the one day each year I could count on being the center of attention. I was born at 6:20 a.m. so my day would always start with my mom waking me up at the precise time I was born. She would wish me a happy birthday. Then, my mom would bring Dunkin Donut munchkins (those are puffy donut holes for those who don't know) to school to "surprise" me and I'd share them with my classmates. After school, there would be cake and gifts and dinner wherever I wanted. (In those days, it was Burger King.) It was a good day!
Every year, I try to do something special for my birthday. I've thrown parties and have had parties thrown for me. For a few years, a couple of friends who also had October birthdays and I would get together and go out to dinner some place nice to celebrate our mutual birthday month. Fun times.
In the fall of 1997, I was feeling that "ohmigod I'm almost 30 and I'm still single" panic and started posting personal ads all over the place. "D" responded to one of them. He was a red-haired computer geek who liked movies, pool, reading and beer. We emailed a few times and even exchanged photos. A couple of weeks before my birthday, I got brave and invited him to my place for dinner. I know, I know-- who invites total strangers they meet on the internet to their house for dinner? Me! It was the first and last time.
He said yes and I spent a good bit of time preparing a nice seafood fettucine, salad, and garlic bread. I even bought a cheesecake for dessert and had beer in the fridge. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach and all that. He had told me that he'd be over as soon as he got off work at 5.
So... 5 pm came and went. 6 pm came and went. 7pm... The pasta got cold and congealed. The garlic bread got cold and chewy. The salad wilted. The candles on the table were almost melted. By 8 pm, I had given up. I put away the food, changed into comfy "It's Friday night and I don't have anything better to do" clothing and curled up on the sofa with the remote control. A little after 9 pm, there was a knock on my door. I looked through the peephole and there stood "D".
I opened the door and he said hi. I said hi. He said, "I know I said I'd be here for dinner but a bunch of us went out for drinks and pool after work and I totally forgot that I told you I'd be here... and then when I remembered, I didn't have your phone number." He looked a little sheepish and his apology sounded sincere. He reeked of cigarette smoke and beer and seemed a little on the tipsy side. I said, "Why don't we try this again some other time?" He said sure. Then, we awkwardly stared at each other for a few minutes and then he left.
Now... most people would have just stopped there, right? Not me. See the "glutton for punishment" stamp on my forehead? I sent him an email and said, "Hey, I'm having a birthday party, wanna come?" He wrote back yes-- that he'd love to meet my friends. So, I gave him the specifics and told a few friends that "D", a guy I had met on the 'net, was coming to my birthday party.
I'm a big fan of party planning. I love to think up themes, decorations, menus, etc. I will spend months planning for a party so that everything is just right. Unfortunately, in 1997, this wasn't the case. My idea of planning for this party was to order pizza and buy some beer. I also had some snacks and non-alcoholic beverages and one co-worker brought a home-made chocolate cake to the party.... but I've gotten ahead of myself.
The night of the party arrived and so did all of my friends. There were games and food and laughter and fun. And gifts. Lots and lots of fun gifts. "D" didn't show up at the time on my invite. He showed up about 30 minutes into the party. He didn't say much to my friends. I gave him points just for showing up because I'd never go to someone's party where the only person I knew was the host(ess) and not all that well. He ate my pizza, drank my beer, and sort of brooded. My friends tried to involve him. He just didn't really want any of it. Every picture of him from my party shows him standing off to one side drinking beer. I tried to get him alone to have some conversation but it was mostly small talk about the party. If I'd ask him a question, he'd take a drink of beer. Finally, I gave up and rejoined my friends, figuring he'd get bored and leave.
At the end of the party, it was just down to me, him and my friend "J". He asked "J" if she had any mints or gum. She did. I got this "Uh oh, why does he want fresh breath?" moment of fear that he was going to try something. "J" hung out as long as she could but he wasn't leaving. So, she left us alone and he sort of stood there. I sort of stood there. Then, finally, he said, "Well, gotta go. Thanks for the beer." and left. After he left, I realized the mint was to disguise the beer on his breath in the event he got pulled over. Duh!
As I was cleaning up, I could account for all of the beer bottles except one. I was trying to keep glass separate from the rest of the trash and I looked everywhere for the bottle. He was the only person drinking the beer and he hadn't strayed too far away from the dining room where the pizza and beer was. I was going crazy trying to find that bottle. Did he take it with him? Why did he hide it? Where did he hide it? Finally, I gave up and went to bed, writing him and the beer off.
A few days later, I was dusting a bookcase in my living room and there, on the bottom shelf, in the back, behind my knicknacks, was the empty beer bottle. Whew! I was so glad to have THAT mystery solved! I heard from "D" a few times after the party but I just wasn't feeling much for him. He wasn't exactly the liveliest or most considerate person I had ever met.
The only thing we really had in common was my beer.
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