Date Location: Ace Bar
Location Review: 4.0 Stars – Super cool spot and interesting neighborhood. They pour their drinks strong but it does get crowded.
Date Duration: 2 hours
I didn’t hear from Reed for awhile after we saw each other. I wasn’t sure how to take it because on the one hand I hate texting for centuries but on the other we had a fucking great time and that kiss was solid.
He texted me on Friday that week asking what I was up to for the weekend. We set the date and it was on. The bar he picked had a bunch of different arcade games so we went to the back, got our skeeball on, played some Big Buck Hunter, and I got drunk. The more we spoke the more I had no idea if he was fucking with me. He clearly had a comedic mind and could follow the first rule of improv: “Yes, and…”. For those who are unfamiliar, when you’re doing a scene with someone you can never shut down what they’re doing. Instead you go along with it and build off.
He was so good at it I couldn’t figure out what was real and what wasn’t. Did he actually go hunting? Did he really own a gun? Did he really get arrested twice? Did he have tattoos on his back? I had no fucking clue.
He built off of everything we talked about except for one thing. We were talking about bucket list items and he said that one of his items was to write a book. I asked if there was anything in particular he wanted to write or did he just want to have a book under his belt. He said he wanted to write one on his experiences. I asked if there were any in particular. He brushed it off and kept these “experiences” super vague.
He had plans for later that night and we walked until I had to turn off for my train. We kissed on the sidewalk and it was just as good as the first. Soft, minty, non-agressive, super tall.
We had another weird conversation.
I didn’t hear from him for a week until this fucking sass happened.
I really should have ignored it. I wanted to. But I could not for the life of me figure out this guy. So I played it chill and let him know that I had meant to respond to his last text but got caught up in stuff and would be around the next week. He began texting me like clockwork. One on a snow day, one on the Friday when I left, one when I got back, one to ask me out. Fucker was motivated and I was a masochist.