NOLA Part Trois: The Take-Back.

January 7, 2018

Fresh perspectives, bloodshot eyes, New Orleans, baby…

After spending the last hour laying in bed in my hotel room, trying to will myself back to sleep, I made a cup of coffee so I could share about yesterday’s shenanigans.  I got 4 hours of sleep, which, when added to the 1.5 hour nap I took before I went out last night, and a couple cups of coffee, I believe will be adequate to get me through the next hour or so of being conscious.  So I’ll pick up where I left off last – laying in bed Thursday night, feeling like an idiot after getting dumped (is that what happened?) by Jason Whothefuckcareswhathisrealnameisanyways.

Truly, I think it was the feeling of rejection that stung me the most.  In the moment, I was butthurt over it, disappointed that something didn’t pan out as I’d hoped (that’s life, baby girl), and upset I had been deceived.  But now that I’ve had some space to think, you know… that’s on him.  I could sit here and feel like an idiot for not hiring a private investigator to follow this guy around for a couple weeks before I came here to meet him, to make sure everything he told me added up.  But you know? That’s a lot more than due diligence, and I shouldn’t have ask for social security numbers and copies of driver’s licenses from guys to check up on them before I go out with them.  If they lie, I’ll figure it out.  And if they lie, it’s a reflection on them, not me.

Visiting the quarter on Friday with my dear friend and client.

So after about 30 minutes of self-flagellation for not sniffing out the truth about dude before I came here (which, by the way, I’m done beating myself up over), I went down to the hotel bar and got a drink.  Then I came up to the room and passed out.  The next morning, I got up and went for a run downtown and along the river.  The night before, I checked flights and considered just going back to Florida early… but during my run the next day I decided that I was going to flip the script and turn this into a wonderful experience for myself.  Lemons, meet lemonade.  That afternoon, I toted my laptop with me a couple blocks and bellied up to a bar, had a couple glasses of wine, and began writing.  I had dinner with one of my clients who lives in New Orleans, and then we went down to the French Quarter and walked around, listened to music, soaked in New Orleans culture on a chilly Friday night… and it was wonderful.

Yesterday, I ran again, drank some more, wrote some more.  I went back to the same bar and wrote Part Deux and ended up meeting another cool chick, named Dee.  She owns a coffee shop here in New Orleans. She was into crystals and spirituality, and she was sassy as hell.  I loved her immediately.  New friend number 2.  Next, I came back to the hotel, posted the blog, and reached out to my friend Bethany (who lives in New Orleans, but is stuck in New York right now) and asked her to recommend some places for me to go that night.  I wanted good food, good wine, good music.  Somewhere I could dance.  So she recommended Mimi’s in the Marigny.  I went back to the room, took a nap, showered and got ready, and then headed back down to the hotel bar where my new favorite bartender was working.  Mimi’s wasn’t going to get busy until 11 or so, and I wasn’t in a rush.

So as I’m sitting there, this guy comes up to me.  His name was Matt and he’s working a Comicon convention in town, selling his vodka-based hot sauce.  We talked for a while – I love hearing stories from budding entrepreneurs.  You know? Their passion, ambition – the two essential components of success for any startup – is contagious.  He was up front about being married (which, I appreciated) and told me a little bit about his wife (who, ironically, has ulcerative colitis, which I also have… and I can’t remember how that even came up).  Around 11, I was ready to gnaw my own arm off from hunger, so I told Matt I was going to get an Uber and go to Mimi’s.  He acted interested in going and gave me his card, so I told him I’d text when I got there and let him know how it was.  It was a short ride to Mimi’s, and when I got there, it was wonderful. The place had a dank feel to it, gritty in the most delightful way, full of all sorts of characters.  There were two levels and the first one was pretty quiet, so I ventured upstairs.  I took a seat at one end of the bar and looked around. I ordered two tapas (the goat cheese croquettes were divine) and texted Matt.  He’d not been flirty or inappropriate at all with me, and ya’ll know I’m not interested in another woman’s man.  Imagine my surprise (**sarcasm) when he replied with a series of texts saying he wished I hadn’t left the hotel (he was staying there as well) and suggested I get some food and come back to his room.

Say what??? 

He said it would be fun…. NSA…. YOLO… and before he could finish sending the last text I could see him typing in ichat, I blocked him.  My gut-reaction was to be appalled, to feel a little more disgust and distrust toward the half of the world’s population with balls swinging between their legs, but instead… I enjoyed my goat cheese croquettes.

To my right, there was a young couple, perhaps in their mid-twenties.  The guy kept trying to get my attention.  I assumed he was drunk as he waved his arms around and made whistle sounds, trying to catch my eye.  I had seen them when I first walked in and my assumption, based on the girl’s body language, was that they were either together, or she wanted them to be together. Regardless, I was not interested in this tot.  At one point, he leaned over her to ask about my tattoos.  I was polite and could tell she was uncomfortable that he was trying to flirt with me.  So instead, I engaged with her, and that annoyed the shit out of him.

Glass of wine at Mimis, filled the way wine glasses are meant to be filled.

I’d noticed a guy at the far end of the bar, opposite me, sitting alone.  He caught my eye but I wasn’t going to go out of my way to talk to any guys, not on this trip, anyways.  After about an hour, it got incredibly busy and I was getting ready to call for an Uber back to the hotel when the guy I’d noticed walked up and asked if anyone was sitting in the chair next to me.  I smiled and said, “you.”  He told me his name was David and he set down his beer and asked me to hold the seat for him while he used the restroom.

Within 30 seconds, the arm-waving twerp (let’s call him AWT, for short) walked over to me, pulled out the seat that now had David’s beer in front of it, and sat down.  Bro code violation, right?  After he sat down, and before I could say anything, he asked, “Is anyone sitting here?”

I pointed to the beer and nodded. “Yes, you know that, you watched him walk over here.”

AWT chuckled and said, “well, he’s not here now, is he?”

I knew this was going to be fun.  The thought of giving AWT the shut down was straight up exhilarating.  I almost licked my lips.

“He’s not,” I said.  “But I am, and he asked me to hold this seat for him.  And that’s what I was doing before you came over.”

He drew back in his seat with this goofy ass, incredulous grin.  I watched his brain try to compute the situation, to make sense of it.  “Well, do you want him to sit here?” he asked.

“If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?” I asked.  “Plus, you’re here with a girl and you know how disrespectful this is to her.”  I could see her behind him, watching us, looking sad.  Maybe they weren’t together, but she was hurt that he was hitting on me.  I wanted to tell her that he wasn’t worth it.

“Well,” he said, “Do you want to talk to me or him?”

“Him,” I said.

He laughed.  “Why?”

I smiled and shook my head.  No, I was not taking the bait, and AWT’s poor head was about to explode.

“Is it because you think he has a bigger bank account than me?” he asked. “I know how women like you are, I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Women like me? Certainly, I could have been insulted by this twerp for the insinuation that I was a gold digger, but instead, I laughed and said “bingo.”  And then AWT got up and walked back over to the girl and started talking to another dude.  They were both looking at me, I’m sure he was spouting off… which I found that nearly as satisfying as my goat cheese croquettes.  When David returned a moment later, I told him about the near bloodbath over his seat and we both chuckled about it.  Then, he and I sat and chatted for a couple hours.  He was lovely.

Next thing I knew, it was 4:30 in the morning.  David and I exchanged information and he asked if I wanted to hang out later, and I told him most certainly.  Then, I caught an Uber back to my hotel and crawled into bed around 5.

Today, I’ll probably meet up with David at some point. Tonight is my last night here… let’s see what I can get into…