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The Pimp Award

March 12, 2012

The Pimp Award image via: hiphipwholesale

I was sitting with my date one evening and I had quickly decided the only redeeming factor that it was a few blocks from my house at a place I had always wanted to try. He was handsome in a not-my-type kind of way. Β I wondered how long I would have to stay without it being considered rude. He spent the first 20 minutes lecturing me about tax reform. I spent the first 20 minutes playing jax in my head. I am sure he meant well, but he was a bit rigid, and at some point told me my child must be spoiled because he goes to private school.
“Not to judge your parenting.”
“Of course not.”
I hate you.

When the waiter approached, and asked if we wanted another glass of wine I looked at my date, hoping he too wasn’t enjoying our date and he would say no. But no such luck. He suggested another round.
“Would you like some food? Are you hungry?” My date said, offering me the menu.
Maybe a bowl of soup. If you promise to drown me in it. You know, just hold my face in there. Until I stop breathing.
“No. I’m good. Thanks.”

When our second glass of wine arrived I looked up only to make eye contact with the most handsome man. He was on the other end of the restaurant. We locked eyes, and both smiled at the same time. The entire restaurant fell away and that was all I could see. But I was trapped on terror island with my date. There had to be a way to slip said handsome stranger my number. After all, people have done it to me. But how? The restaurant was tiny. There was no way. Except…one.

“I’ll be right back. I just need to use the bathroom.” I said, slipping off the bar stool and walking into the bathroom. When I got up, handsome stranger smiled at me again. My date wasn’t looking. So I smiled back.

When I got into the bathroom I quickly texted Alexis:
“Hi! Help! I am at (insert name of restaurant here) Please call the restaurant and ask to speak to the hot guy with dark hair and a black sweater who is sitting by the door with another man who is wearing a plaid shirt. Tell him your best friend is on a terrible date and give him my number. He will know who it is.”
I hit send, prayed for the best and walked out of the bathroom, back to my date.

Not two minutes later the phone on the bar lit up. I saw the bartender speaking and passed the cordless to the waitress. Her eyes grew wide, she looked around the room. I saw a lot of commotion and whispering among the manager and staff. The waitress began to walk aimlessly around the restaurant with the cordless phone.

THAT’S MY GIRL! It could have been the most genius idea I have ever had. Well, at least my most genius idea that week. I couldn’t follow the events that were unfolding as I had to follow the conversation that was going on on my actual date.
“And anyway that’s why McCain had to go with Palin as a running mate.” He said.
“Right. Of course.”

Now the entire restaurant staff was in on it. Yes, this is a terrible story, and makes me a very bad date. I realize. But I was on a bad date, so don’t I get some type of pass here?

I watched the waitress approach said stranger with the cordless phone. I see said stranger and the waitress talking. He looks up at me and smiles. He takes the phone. This was AMAZING. I watched him on the phone. I don’t know what they were talking about, but they talked for a couple of minutes. I knew Alexis was getting the whole scoop for me. His friend kept turning and looking at me. So did the table next to them. We were all smiling. My poor date had zero idea this was unfolding.
Until he said, “Those guys keep checking you out.”
“Which guys?” I said, acting completely unaware.
“Those guys. Over there.” He motioned in their direction.
Oh, that guy? You mean my next date? Oh. Yeah. Him. He’s cute isn’t he?
“I didn’t see.” Ugh, I may have been going to hell, but it was so worth it.
I get another text from Alexis.
“His name is Matias. He is from Argentina. He is going to call you.”

Finally, I was brave enough to end my date. I couldn’t really take it for another minute.
“Well, we should get going.”
“Really? Oh-”
I was kind of abrupt.
I walked him out of the restaurant and to the subway on the corner.
“It was really great meeting you.” I said and gave him a one arm hug. You know the kind. Where you add an insincere pat?
“You too.”
In the spirit of full disclosure. I may have pushed him down the stairs to get him out of there faster.
When the coast was clear and my date was safely underground, I snuck back to the restaurant. Who am I?

“Hi!” I said to the Argentinian duo who was now waiting for me at the bar. “I’m Darcy.”
“I know.” He said with a thick accent. He was even more handsome up close.
After some small chat I asked how old he was.
Wow. That was really young. I wasn’t expecting that. It’s as though I actually reached into a cradle and pulled him out.
“I’m 36. And a mom. And too old for you.”
“You are perfect.”
It was good enough for him, and apparently tonight, good enough for me.

Matias ordered a bottle of red wine and we talked for hours. He he was sitting so close he would whisper in my ear as we spoke. And I liked it.
One of the waiters came up and whispered to me.
“You know, we have all decided you get the pimp award. We have never seen such a smooth move.”
The bartender gave me a knuckle punch. “Excellent job girl.”
I smiled. I imagined accepting my pimp award. I would like to thank Alexis, for helping make this possible. I would say as I accepted the golden cane, or was it a pimp cup? Whatever it is that pimps carry.

When we were done with our wine, we walked out into the cold night air. He held my hand. Or maybe I held his, because he was a child. And I wanted him to be careful crossing the street. We walked, we talked. I practiced my Spanish. He was polite and told me it was good. He walked me all the way to my block. He kissed me. It was the kind of kiss you want. The kind where you melt into each other and your knees get weak. I was happy.
“Do you want to come up to my apartment for a drink?” He asked.
I looked into his dark eyes. He was so handsome, unbelievably sexy…but I didn’t need to go home with him. He was a stranger. A very young one.

Matias asked me to dinner the following night. I didn’t accept. I realized, I didn’t need Matias. What I needed more was the lesson. The lesson that at any moment you can feel a spark with someone. When you least expect it. Even when you are on a bad date. With someone else.

Have you “liked” Darcy Dates on Facebook? If not please join the Darcy Dates Facebook page!

6 Comments leave one →
  1. Doucky permalink
    March 15, 2012 7:40 pm

    Amazing!! U r my hero!

  2. June 19, 2012 11:14 am

    I absolutely adore the amount of moxie this took – hysterical! I’m a new reader (found you after reading your HuffPo piece today), and you’ve made me laugh many times, plus I adore your fiestiness. Right now I blog about making it through separation and divorce, but I can’t wait to get to a place where maybe, just maybe, I can get the runner up Pimp of the Year award. (You’ll always get the first place for this story. You can just resubmit the same story every year until you’re 100. I’ll be happy with runner up. πŸ™‚ )

    • June 19, 2012 9:46 pm

      Thank you so much. I am so glad you are enjoying the posts! You will definitely get there! Remember, what have you got to lose (other than your pride! πŸ˜‰ ) Keep me updated with your progress! and stay tuned. Thank you for reading and thank you so much for your awesome comment. I really appreciate it!

  3. August 2, 2012 9:13 pm

    Well, I’ve got to follow you now because you rock!

    No, you didn’t need to continue on with Matias. Sometimes just having the perception of what could be is perfect.

    Great writing and can’t wait to read more.

    • August 3, 2012 9:22 am

      Thank you so much! I am so glad you enjoyed the story and thank you for the compliment on the writing! Please “like” the Darcy Dates Facebook page as I will soon be writing for other publications and you can stay notified that way. Thanks again for reading and I really appreciate your feedback!

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