Dateline: "I've lost track of my drink count, and he's here… with his mom."
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5:28 p.m. – He texts, "Are you going to the Yankees-Mets game?" Ah, I completely forgot he was in the city! I'm hammered before sunset, and my texts are dripping with the kind of bravado that only comes from drinking seven frozen margaritas in three hours.
5:30 – I'm pumped, too, that he remembered my love for baseball. When we first met, I thought he was a pretty kick-ass guy. But… he had a boyfriend… who he lived with… and they had a dog — clearly this wasn't going anywhere. Then, a week or so before my first-ever trip to New York, I saw on Facebook that he was going to be in the city at the same time, visiting his mom. And that he was now single. I commented that we'd have to try and catch up (smoothly noncommittal, of course), and now here he is, and here I am.
5:45 – He sends me a pic of him and his mom at Yankee Stadium. Adorable as shit. I'm going on margarita eight, and, feeling inspired, I continue texting him.
6:01 – He writes, "Are you hitting on me?" Shit, I'm not nearly as smooth as I thought. I respond that I'm not sure, and add: "Best answer ever." Somehow, that does the trick; he asks if I'll be out later. Yes, I will.
6:32 – He says he can have his driver bring him to meet up with my group. His driver? Whatever, of course I want to hang out with him. We agree to meet up later.
8:43 – We're still texting. It's getting flirty; I'm getting excited.
9:16 – He addresses to me by my full name. For some reason, this turns me on.
10:18 – I'm with my group of friends at a popular lounge. I've lost track of my drink count, and he's here… with his mom. I separate from my friends and meet him downstairs. He's wearing a brand-new Yankees hat, straight-billed and to the side. I think I just fell in love.
10:19 – He introduces me to Mom, who is absolutely gorgeous and cool as hell. Also, she too appears to have lost track of her drink count. I bring them upstairs and introduce them to my friends.
11:05 – We head to this Coyote Ugly-style gay bar in Hell's Kitchen. Mom is more tanked than I am. She almost gets kicked out of the bar twice, once for some perhaps excessively vigorous dancing, another for telling off the bouncer. She sweet-talks her way out of it both times. I'm impressed.
11:46 – A friend's roommate is hitting on my crush like crazy. The kid has the depth of a parking-lot puddle, but the tequila-gin-rum migraine forming at my temple is making it hard to tell if my crush is reciprocating, and it's killing my liquid confidence. Shit.
11:47 – I know… I'll drink vodka Red Bulls! Again with the cleverness.
12:20 a.m. – Apparently, its time to move to another bar. We head out the door and I hang towards the back of the pack, with Mom. My crush is up front. As we're stumbling across the street, my crush turns back to take a picture of me and Mom; she kisses me on the cheek as the flash pops. We're an absolute drunken mess.
12:22 – She looks me up and down and says, "You're so cute. Don't you play my son, or I'll kick your ass!"
12:22:02 – I whip my head in all directions. Nope, nobody else saw that.
12:22:08 – I laugh nervously and tell her I have no idea what she's talking about.
12:22:09 – She glares at me.
12:22:10 – My crush suddenly appears again, wanting another picture. Three of us line up for the shot; I sport the biggest smile ever.
12:28 – We arrive at the next bar. As everyone enters, I grab my crush by the hand and pull him back. I tell him what his mom said; he blushes and turns away.
12:29 – I put my arms around him. We make out for the next three hours, abandoning his mother and all of our friends at the bar.
9:10 – The sun's been up for a while. He calls his mom and checks in with her. He says he's on his way back.
9:12 – We hug and make out. Again. And again.
9:28 – I put him in a cab back to Long Island.
9:32 – He texts, "See you soon?" Absolutely! But I'm a bit of scared of Mom…