I had 2 events last night. The first was a lunch party for a new newspaper, which, with a jazz band, open bar and hot employed boys, was great. The second was a theater expo, basically consisting of a huge auditorium filled with tables representing every theater company around. So I could attend party number one, my boss manned the table until I could get there. I arrived a tad buzzed from the launch party, and found my boss deep in conversation with the appalling cute guys at the next table. Score!
Boss lady left, winking at me as cute guys rapidly introduced themselves and I took over the table. Turns out, the adorable gentlemen next to me are from a sketch comedy group I’d actually heard of. And they were funny. Noticeably funny. Nothing gets me like funny. I couldn’t believe my luck, as the room was packed with hundreds of theater freaks and weirdos. I mean, they could’ve sat us next to anyone. But cute comedy boys. I was in heaven.
Chatting and flirting away, I was kicking out the sassy one-liners like a pro. I was really on my game, charming even myself. They were both cute and both funny, although one of them was really working the intense eye contact, leaning in to whisper hilarious gossip. Hmmmm. Fabulous! After 2 solid hours of witty banter, it was time to go. Zoe had wine and snacks waiting for me at home and I always like to leave ‘em wanting more. I gave funny boys my business card and we did the obligatory “Well, golly. Let’s run into each other again.”
I’m delighted with myself and quite pleased with my evening. And to think, I so didn’t want to go to this stupid expo.
It’s at this point that I notice it. Eye contact guy’s shoes. Call me bitchy. Call me petty. Call me way, way, way too picky. But knit socks and Tevas?
Knit socks and Tevas, people.
Some things are fixable. And some are not. Knit socks and Tevas? Date over…