In the land of date texting-You are interchangable

I will set the stage.  It was spring, we were in our mid-twenties.  My good friend had just broken up with her boyfriend and looking to meet someone new.   She had put on a dark halter dress that looked stunning on her, and gave her juuust  enough Vulnerability to give men juuust enough Confidence.  A friend of mine had invited me to an after work happy hour celebrating her friend’s new job at a different advertising agency.  It was at Coppersmith’s over in the fifties of Manhattan on the westside.  If you know me, you’ll know that the casual nature of this bar, where many baseball teams come after their games and there is always a really random mix of people that seem 50% from long island and 50% after work/have some sort of job where they can get completely smashed on a Tuesday with no second thoughts, sets the bar for me hmmm not so high.  Ergo, my behavior when I am at Coppersmith’s. My friend and her friends had all left.  I was still there will my good friend who for the sake of this story, we’ll call Ressica.  Ressica noticed a really really tall man at the bar.  Like Abraham Lincoln tall.  I find tall attractive too, but this was borderline ridiculous.  She had however, broken up with a baseball player in college, and so this athletic height was nothing new for her. She wanted to meet him. I was hmmm maybe 4 beers in. We spend twenty minutes debating whether he was really that tall or standing on the pole underneath the counter.  Finally he got up and walked downstairs to the bathrooms.

“I knew he was tall!”  Ressica called out.

“Tall, that man is half building” I replied as I wrote her p# down on a napkin splattered with Stella. (Haha, let’s not pretend they serve Stella here. I think it was Blue Moon). I then ran down the stairs to the bathroom after him, hoping to slip him the napkin casually, but instead, I sailed straight into him smacking my face into his elbow, which was for some reason up in the air, at the turn at the bottom of the stairs. 

He smiled.  I handed him the napkin and muttered something like, “Dark dress, she’s new in town, really fun.”  Yes- it was that klassy.  And, I limped back upstairs.  We left soon after.

Here is the mucho abridged version of what happened afterwards, because I was not actually there for it, and this is all they would tell me.  Ressica and him text flirt for 6 months because she starts dating someone else she actually knows from a credible location.  Her college friend Tipper (this doesn’t sound anything like her name, just really wanted to integrate that silly name into a story one day) moves to town.  Tipper is lonely.  She doesn’t know anyone.  Ressica gives her Lincoln’s p# to text, and Tipper pretends she lost her phone and got a new number (these were the days when the # transfer was probably possible, but not for lazy people=everyone I knew).  Tipper and Lincoln text for 2 weeks, it’s cute, they have good banter, he asks her to dinner.   Things go great.  They enjoy dinner and a lot of wine at which point Tipper shares that she is not Ressica, and did not see him at the bar. He says that he thought she looked about 6 inches taller and had blond hair instead of red curly hair (Ressica had brown curly hair—but Coors Light has a strength to erase the past) but he was glad that Tipper was so tall.

At first he looked uncomfortable, but then he said it’s not like he knew Ressica anyway and Tipper was really cute! Tipper and Lincoln dated for about 6 months.