Never get your hopes up.
I told you I had a crush on this guy. Doodle his name on my Trapper Keeper crush. Circle hearts around his initials crush. Practice my first name with his last name crush. Start picking out gifts for his birthday next month crush. And what happened? I got crushed.
Crush: One word. Two meanings.
Things started out alright. He's a performer and had a show on tonight. So I drove all the way to Staten Island to see him. Yes, that's right, I literally had to cross a bridge to hang out with this man. We're not talking about some doofball I met online here. We're talking about "friends" for a year and a half and I've been waiting around long enough. I wanted to see him. So I went. To Staten Freakin Island.
And if the toll on the Verrazano Bridge wasn't enough to scare me off, and Google maps getting me lost twice wasn't enough to scare me off, and the cover charge plus two drink minimum wasn't enough to scare me off, then nothing would. Right? Wrong.
The show was the show, not much to say. But afterwards, he drove home a very (and I do mean VERY) devoted fan who crossed half of Staten Island, by bus, on crutches, after being hit by a car to see his show. Obviously, I forgave this detour before our one-on-one time. The man got run over. I can't compete with that. And when dropping the poor dude off, my guy friend (still friends here) got out of the car, walked all the way around to get out the crutches before opening the passenger side door and helping the man up to his walkway. I was touched. Absolutely touched. I've always known he had a heart of gold but to see it in action...alright I'm getting mushy here, let's keep moving.
Long story short, we drove for what felt like ages to what was apparently the only diner on Staten Island open at midnight on a Wednesday. Order drinks and share appetizers. All fine. But when I tell you that the man did not look at me, actually look at me once the whole time we're talking, I would not be exaggerating. See, I made the mistake of putting my back to the tv. Where the Yankees / Red Sox game was on. You can see his predicament? Concentrate on the chick who travelled 37 miles to hang out with you OR watch Game 3 in the series. Somehow, I wasn't surprised I lost that match up.
Trying to make light of the situation, I teased him that I was just as much a baseball fan as any other New Yorker (if Staten Island can really be considered New York, or just an extension of New Jersey). I asked him if he thought A-Rod had a better ass than me? If Jeter is hotter even by guy standards? He didn't even take his eyes off the screen while saying, "Oh, I don't care about the game. I have ADD."