If there is one thing that I'm decent at with dating, it would be meeting men off the internet. When I break down my dating statistics, I count that at least 20 of the 61 men I've gone out with in the last 3 years were met offline. That's almost 33% of my first dates, or a date not from a website every 2 months. Not too shabby for a city with a social scene characterized by the infamous "Seattle Freeze."
So yesterday, when all of Seattle was gathered within a 30 foot radius of any given television screen, I devised a sophisticated, 3-step plan: 1) Drink alcohol. 2) Watch football. 3) Meet men.
I strategically positioned myself at the bar next to two men around my age, both of whom appeared to be straight and one of whom was attractive. Neither one of them paid much attention to me for the first half of the game, but I was on a mission and I was not going to give up. During the halftime show, the cute one looked bored and was playing on his phone. It was now or never. I stood up and put my hand on his shoulder to get his attention.
"Sorry to bother you, but can I ask you a question about the game?"
"Sure!" he said.
"I didn't understand that first thing that happened at the beginning of the game, when the ball went backwards and the Seahawks scored a two point touchdown."
You can laugh all you want, but that won't change the fact that it started a conversation.
"It's called a 'safety'," he began, then launched into an incomprehensible explanation of rules of a sport that I didn't care about before January 2014.
"Thanks, that was really helpful! I got it now."
"No problem," he said with a smile, and as he put his hand on my shoulder I knew I was in.
The game went on. We talked during the commercial breaks and high-fived each other with every awesome Seattle play. Then it ended, as all football games do, and it was time to make it or break it. Would he ask for my number? I was hopeful.
"Well it was really nice meeting you," I said. Do you come here often? I'll probably see you around."
"Yeah, I live just a few blocks away. I do come here a lot, but if you want, maybe we could exchange numbers and see each other again."
Did you think I sounded like a total idiot asking about a "two point touchdown"? Mmmmhmmm. Well how do you like them apples?!?
An hour later I was celebrating with the masses in the Pike/Pine corridor, dodging fireworks in the street, hugging passengers hanging out of car windows, and screaming Sea-HAWKS as though I had been following this team my entire life, when I received a text message:
"This is C____. Was great meeting you. What a night! Cheers!!"
So yesterday, when all of Seattle was gathered within a 30 foot radius of any given television screen, I devised a sophisticated, 3-step plan: 1) Drink alcohol. 2) Watch football. 3) Meet men.
I strategically positioned myself at the bar next to two men around my age, both of whom appeared to be straight and one of whom was attractive. Neither one of them paid much attention to me for the first half of the game, but I was on a mission and I was not going to give up. During the halftime show, the cute one looked bored and was playing on his phone. It was now or never. I stood up and put my hand on his shoulder to get his attention.
"Sorry to bother you, but can I ask you a question about the game?"
"Sure!" he said.
"I didn't understand that first thing that happened at the beginning of the game, when the ball went backwards and the Seahawks scored a two point touchdown."
You can laugh all you want, but that won't change the fact that it started a conversation.
"It's called a 'safety'," he began, then launched into an incomprehensible explanation of rules of a sport that I didn't care about before January 2014.
"Thanks, that was really helpful! I got it now."
"No problem," he said with a smile, and as he put his hand on my shoulder I knew I was in.
The game went on. We talked during the commercial breaks and high-fived each other with every awesome Seattle play. Then it ended, as all football games do, and it was time to make it or break it. Would he ask for my number? I was hopeful.
"Well it was really nice meeting you," I said. Do you come here often? I'll probably see you around."
"Yeah, I live just a few blocks away. I do come here a lot, but if you want, maybe we could exchange numbers and see each other again."
Did you think I sounded like a total idiot asking about a "two point touchdown"? Mmmmhmmm. Well how do you like them apples?!?
An hour later I was celebrating with the masses in the Pike/Pine corridor, dodging fireworks in the street, hugging passengers hanging out of car windows, and screaming Sea-HAWKS as though I had been following this team my entire life, when I received a text message:
"This is C____. Was great meeting you. What a night! Cheers!!"
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