Friday Night

I met artist boy at the sushi place and instantly felt awkward. I realized the only thing we had in common was a confirmed mutual attraction, but it seemed impolite to begin the conversation talking about our looks. I said "hello" and he replied in kind. We both looked around frantically for a hostess to rescue us but one came only after we had successfully completed the "How are you?" and "Heard it’s going to snow" rounds of uncomfortable conversation.

At the table things only got worse.

"Do you go to Starbucks a lot?" Did I really have to answer that question? I stared at my menu intently as I contemplated feigning illness. Thankfully our waitress asked, almost immediately, if we would like anything to drink. "Dirty martini," I responded, a bit too quickly. He looked at me with either renewed interest or suspicions of alcoholism, I couldn’t be sure. We went back to staring at our menus.

As the waitress took our orders and then our menus, thus removing any excuse for not talking, I looked around to find another distraction. The sushi restaurant was one of those that had made the surprising choice of including aquariums in their décor. I pretended to be intensely interested in the fish.

"You know," he began, noticing me gazing at the aquarium with an unusual focus. "I used to think that sushi restaurants killed the fish from the aquarium to make your dinner." It wasn’t much, but it was a beginning. The drinks arriving spurred us along and we began to exchange stories of ridiculous things we had once believed.

One dirty martini later I offered "I used to think you were supposed to condition your pubic hair."

He laughed, leaned forward and said conspiratorially "Last month I was in the shower and I got confused. I was like pubic hair is hair. So I shampooed it and conditioned it. But then I got really confused and was like chest hair is hair too. So I shampooed it and conditioned it. But then my skin felt really strange which made me wonder—what’s the conditioner doing to my scalp?"

I stared.

He concluded, "Sometimes I over-think things."

Thankfully I am the type of girl who thinks odd ball guys are sexy. Then I inevitably recoil when I find out they are, in fact, unhinged, but I refrained from thinking too far ahead and wound up making out with him in front of my apartment for almost an hour. Have I mentioned he's gorgeous?