There's only two kinds of people in the world: the kind that goes to see Britney Spears in concert and the kind that is lame.
Okay so my version doesn't rhyme, but if there's one thing we've learned from pop music it's that it doesn't really have to, and on that note, pop stars don't have to actually sing at a concert. And let me tell you, it was the most PHENOM (flip wrist to the left) ENAL (flip wrist to the right) concert EVER. Not to mention it started off my birthday week, since it was a present from Megan (thanks friend!!!).
THE MAIN EVENT
So Tuesday was the Britney concert, and I was bouncing off the walls excited. I got to work and Joanna suggested we play Britney all day. I looked at her in disbelief, but she just shrugged. "I know when you get back you'll want to play it constantly. Let's get it over with." Do I have fantastic friends or what?
The day became even more exciting when Humanitarian Guy suddenly materialized in the building and invited me over via e-mail to see all the pictures from his trip. I immediately forgot that I'd gotten over him and instead panicked. 'What do I wear???' I thought. Unfortunately, I was already dressed. My natural charm would have to be enough.
While he told me his stories and showed me his pictures, I fought back tears of sadness for the poor children and the urge to puke from nervous excitement. When it was time for me to go, he gave me a souvenir and said we should get lunch later in the week. I blurted out, "Okay! Sure! I'm going to Britney tonight!" He didn't seem to notice how random my exclamation was. "I live right by there," he offered. My head was screaming, "BRITNEY! HUMANITARIAN GUY LUNCH! BRITNEY! HUMANITARIAN GUY LUNCH!" I wasn't processing much else, so I missed his hint. But when I relayed the story to Joanna, she understood what he was really saying and told me to invite him for a drink before the concert, which I did, and he speedily accepted and asked me for my phone number. SNAPS!
That evening we went to Clyde's, which was playing Britney's new album on a loop and had drink specials such as "The Comeback" and "The K-Fed." The place was a zoo of Britney fans, and our server looked frightened (he had switched shifts with another, smarter server who didn't want to work that night). Outside girls too young to get in a bar (I'm talkin' 11 years old) were lined up in their shiny leggings and pink lip gloss. My how Britney can unite women of all ages.
I was so excited all I could eat was a piece of bread. It didn't help that Humanitarian Guy was coming. "You've got to calm down before he gets here," Megan warned me as she shoved artichoke dip in my direction. Bzzz bzzz bzzz -- Text message from ... "He's here!" I yelped. I sang the chorus of "Womanizer" in my head to pump myself up, stood, and pranced around the corner to meet him.
The poor guy was such a trooper. I couldn't focus on any topic for more than 10 seconds before squealing something about Britney, and I kept flirting with our server to get free drinks (and totally scored). He tried to have a normal conversation with me and humored Megan and me when we would break out into a string of giggles. When it was time for us to leave he walked me out and asked me to call him after the concert, even though he'd probably be asleep (he was).
After the concert I pole danced on the Metro (I know you're jealous).
BOZO THE CLOWN
Two days later we had lunch, and I ran into every person I know in my big government building. They all smiled way too much and gave me vigorous nods of approval when Humanitarian Guy wasn't looking. It was so embarrassingly gratifying. Our conversation was easy and enjoyable, and then next day he asked me out. Okay so I broke my rule of must ask out by Thursday, and he really just asked if I wanted to "meet up," but I was determined to be modern and open minded. I'm basically in the North anyway; it was time to break free of my Southern dating roots of letting the guy make every move and be proactive and accommodating to his way of dating.
So Saturday we met up at a bar -- a nice bar -- and once again had great conversation. When it got too loud he suggested we leave, and we walked along U Street for a while. The cherry blossoms had bloomed that day and he picked one for me, which I thought was incredibly romantic (although I did suggest he pick it...oh well, he could've said no). The night ended with him claiming chivalry isn't completely dead and walking me to the Metro then a kiss on the cheek good night. On the way home I mused over what a gentleman he was and how much I liked talking to him. When I got home I texted him a thank you and offered my services to help him pack up his apartment. The next week was going to be so great!
The weekend passed with no response, text or other. 'Oh well,' I thought. 'I think the game goes three days and then the guy makes contact.' Sure enough, three days later I got a text: "Have you ever heard of suede paint?" WTH??? I consulted two straight, dating guys (Player and Southern Boy) for an interpretation.
"He likes you," said Player. "He's chillin' out. Be cool."
"These Northern guys just don't treat girls the way you're used to being treated," said Southern Boy. "Guys up here are lazy. And texting doesn't count as making contact."
Although I agreed with Southern Boy, if Humanitarian wanted to text, I would text my thumbs off to maintain the potential relationship. So I was cool about it, like Player told me to be, and texted back, "Yes."
Three more days passed and nothing. We officially were not seeing each other that weekend. Friday night my roomie was hosting a cook-out, so I took the opportunity to get some more opinions on the situation. "He's just not that into me, right?" I asked a group of guys.
They all shrugged and looked at each other, hoping someone would have something encouraging to say to me, but no one said a word.
"I mean, why bother texting me at all? If he's not into me, just leave it alone, right?" I asked expectantly.
"Maybe an old girlfriend came into the picture," a girl listening in offered.
"Ooh, you could be right!" I said, my eyes widening with enlightenment. "So, what, do I text him tomorrow to remind him that I am alive and he should choose me?"
All the guys nodded...but I'm pretty sure they shook their heads in pity when I walked away.
The next day I woke up to a text: "Cupcakes!" It was from Ashmi, who had promised me a Saturday-morning trip to Buzz for my birthday. I lingered in my Inbox for a few moments and considered texting Humanitarian, but instead I shut my phone and got ready for breakfast.
Of course, cupcakes put everything in perspective. Sitting on the patio of Buzz with Ashmi and Margaret, licking espresso cream icing off a spoon, the Humanitarian seemed like the most boring thing I could talk about. And later when my friends took me out for a fabulous dinner on the National Harbor, I didn't wonder about him once. I did text him that day, but by the time he answered, asking me what I was doing later that night, I was on the phone with Steve who had called to wish me a happy birthday and promise me a fun night out next month when he will be in town on business, and even though I saw that name I had been dying to see pop up on my screen, I didn't bother checking it right away.
There's only two kinds of guys out there: the kind that can handle me, and the kind that...can't, I guess. Oh, who knows what happened? I racked my brain for an entire week, but by the end of it, I didn't care anymore. It was fun to act like a 20-year-old, foolish girl again, but it also made me remember why I walked away from the dating game when I was 25. Lying in my bed Saturday night, I reflected on all the terrific friends I have and how great they consistently make me feel, and for the first time in a week, Humanitarian was not the last thing I thought of before I fell asleep. That night I dreamed of cupcakes and shoes, and all was right with my world again.