Dateline: "I feel like throwing up…"
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6:30 p.m. – I arrive at the bar on Avenue B, sporting a rain-soaked jacket and fending off a horrible cold. I feel like throwing up.
6:40 – She texts me "hey, I'm gonna be a little late!" I respond with "no worries, I'll be in the back in the blue hat."
6:42 – I run to the bathroom to throw up/check my hair. I've just gotten an awful haircut. I dry-heave, splash water on my face, and leave the bathroom.
6:53 – She walks in. Tall Indian princess. "Hey, you're really tall," I say. She laughs and asks me what I was expecting. We sit down.
7:00 – We order beers. She asks me if I'm hungry. I decide against telling her about my recent dry-heaving session, instead toughing it out and ordering quesadillas for the two of us.
7:20 – Food arrives. I realize that quesadillas are the sexiest date food. So much melted cheese.
7:24 – We talk all about our lives. She has a successful job, speaks three languages, and lives in Manhattan. I ask her if she likes my hat and order another drink.
8:00 – Trivia night at the bar. It's on: my head is full of useless knowledge.
8:10 – The first question is asked. I laugh and say it out loud. Everyone glares at me. Yikes, I'm bad at this game.
8:20 – We're not doing so hot at trivia. But she smiles at me and touches my thigh.
8:33 – I lay my head down on the bar and admit I'm not feeling well. (Chicks dig dudes on the brink of death, right?) My huge crush outweighs the nausea.
8:40 – I touch her hands and ask her about her bracelet that says "I <3 Big Boobs." She tells me it's a breast-cancer thing. I bring up my mom's winning battle with breast cancer. Yes, I went there.
8:48 – She goes to the bathroom. I get the check and put my head down.
8:49 – I fall asleep. I actually fall fucking asleep. Holy shit.
8:51 – She comes back and wakes me up. "I feel horrible," I say. She pats my back and tells me it's time to go. I agree.
8:55 – We go outside. I ask her where to go, because I'm still new to the city. She points me in the right direction.
8:56 – "It was really nice to meet you. Text me again when you're not dying." I laugh. We hug. It's different because she's so tall, but nice.
8:59 – She leaves. I put her in my phone as "T.I.P.S." — tall Indian princess, son!
9:04 – I puke.