For anyone that watches the show New Girl, you will not need the preface, but for those of you that
do not, I will oblige…Last week’s episode was about Jessica Day, the show’s
protagonist, diving into the world of online dating. As we all know, and my blog can attest, the
world of online dating is a scary place.
However at the end of several uncomfortable and awkward dates, she manages
to meet this guy she likes and connects with on a lot of different levels. But in true Sitcom fashion, the tone of the date changes as she quickly discovers he is not her type. Why is he not her type, you ask? Well it is because he is a magician, who proceeds to ‘woo’ her with magic tricks. The whole
premise of the episode was absurd. Her
date was in the middle of a restaurant being embarrassing, trying to untangle
rings from each other and pulling rabbits out of hats. I actually pitied the character of Jessica
Day for having a more horrible dating story than I do.
The episode was so unrealistic and embarrassing that of course I had to laugh with my PIC[1]
about how awful I feel for that staged yet terribly uncomfortable date. I then began to tell her about a
story from many moons ago (which pretty much everyone has heard before). You see, 2009
was a big life-changing year for me, for many different reasons, but mainly it
holds all of my best and most exciting bar stories. After my very first breakup, I went to my
local watering hole to drown my sorrows, and my good friends Bobo and P came to
cheer me up and join in the shenanigans of the evening. While we started at our original ‘go to’ bar we
proceeded to have an impromptu bar crawl and meet some people along the
way. Our first stop was going to another
local hotspot to meet one of my friends who ‘had a guy’ she ‘wanted me to meet.’ Fair enough, I thought, what could possibly
be wrong with that? WELL, in true
Gabrielle fashion, nothing is ever so simple.
So as Bobo, P and myself go into this bar we are immediately accosted by
my very inebriated friend, and her ‘perfect guy’ . . . a Magician. Don’t
get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with being a magician, certainly 5 years
ago when I was just a student, but it is not my cup of tea. So after throwing up the smoke signals, P and
Bobo swoop in and we go on our merry way to continue an amazingly infamous
night that can only be summed up in two words . . . Zebra Cakes. But that is a
story for another time.
Now as I am telling my PIC this story, which she has heard
from Bobo, P and myself many times
before (it’s a crowd pleaser) she was like ‘well what about last summer?’ A story which I COMPLETELY
blocked out of my memory. Last summer my
PIC, another friend and myself decided to go a few towns over to watch the fireworks
and hangout in some new scenery. We went
to a mildly familiar bar and managed to make some new friends in the outside bar portion. It was there that we met a man named
Alabama, who proceeded to sing a song about my amiga, Clara (and glitter), with his harmonica [the
video is still floating around the glory that is Facebook, by the way.] Also at the bar was an adorable looking
ginger, whom for blog references we will call Rodolfo, since his real name was something similarly
absurd. Rodolfo was very nice, came up
to our group, hungout was talking to us, polite, normal and sweet; seemed nice enough,
right? Well after I had given him my
number, we discovered, as is my luck, that he is not normal, but is, in fact, a Magician!
But not only was he a magician, he was also a rapper---which he explained as going to
neighborhoods and trying to rap battle people. (Am I too old and out of touch to not believe that that actually happens?) Again, not judging anyone’s life choices, but in your mid-twenties, I
think it’s time to give up the ghost on being the next Eminem. Also, the early 2000’s are over—even Eminem doesn’t
want to be Eminem!
It was after this discovery that Rodlofo 1) joined Alabama in an impromptu concert in which he ‘spit some raps’ (is that how the kids describe it these days?) and Alabama jammed out on his ‘ca (that’s short for Harmonica, right?) and 2) Rodlofo busted out in a COMPLETE choreographed dance of Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies.’ Now, here is a fact about ME, it is near impossible to get me embarrassed. If anyone has ever met my dad, we know I am used to some random and awkward tomfoolery, but watching a 6’4” ginger with a giant curly afro start rapping, doing card tricks and then breaking it down to ‘single ladies’ was enough to turn me red and put me off.
It was after this discovery that Rodlofo 1) joined Alabama in an impromptu concert in which he ‘spit some raps’ (is that how the kids describe it these days?) and Alabama jammed out on his ‘ca (that’s short for Harmonica, right?) and 2) Rodlofo busted out in a COMPLETE choreographed dance of Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies.’ Now, here is a fact about ME, it is near impossible to get me embarrassed. If anyone has ever met my dad, we know I am used to some random and awkward tomfoolery, but watching a 6’4” ginger with a giant curly afro start rapping, doing card tricks and then breaking it down to ‘single ladies’ was enough to turn me red and put me off.
I am all for loving the life you live and being completely
and unapologetically yourself, but that whole scene was a little too much for
me; certainly on a first encounter. But
I cannot blame him too much. . . Clearly I am an inviting (and eccentric) person
that I constantly find myself meeting such interesting characters. However, what I really learned about myself in
those stories is that evidently I have a penchant for magicians. That sad little fact actually fills me with
hope. I mean, who knows, maybe love really
is
in the air!! One day I will meet the
magician/clown/rapper who sweeps me off my feet and makes me forget about all
the lovers lost in the past. Another fun fact learned from this is whenever I think some RomCom on TV is depicting an unrealistic and awkwardly embarrassing date, my friends will be there to remind me that I definitely have had worse in real life. So it goes. . .
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