When I first moved to DC, D. was great about finding things for us to do so that we were out socializing and meeting new people. This was particularly helpful for her, as she was single; and less helpful to me as I was still dating someone in NYC. On one such evening, about 7 months after our move, we were at a concert in the District and ran into a friend from college. Afterward the show he invited us out with his friends for drinks,one of whom we shall call Mr. Handlebar. Mr. Handlebar was a true hipster asshole, he had a handlebar mustache (hence the name), was into pac-man, woodworking, and rock climbing, and had aspirations to change the world. We clicked. We spent all night talking about anything and everything - it was one of those manic nights that fell like they are straight out of a movie: the background blurs out and it is just the two of you having a beer, playing video games, walking down the street, and finally everything snaps back into place and you are at a IHOP at 2am and realize there are other people there. As the night closed our college friend mentioned something about my boyfriend and Mr. Handlebar grabs my hand and with disbelief says "You don't really have a boyfriend do you? You can't..." And in that moment I wanted to say "No," I knew exactly what he meant, how could this feel so right and we feel so connected and I be with someone else?
I broke up with the boyfriend the next day, it wasn't fair to either of us for me to have that moment, and if ever there was a blinking red sign for things not working out - it is the overwhelming desire to tell a guy with a handlebar mustache that you are single. D. and I had an epic break-up trip to Ocean City that weekend, where we discovered that Long Island Iced Teas followed by a shot of tequila can give you the perfect buzz to last the evening. When I returned I couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Handlebar, and so D. texted our college friend to get his number and within a week I had a date. I should note here that I had been with my ex for two years, so while my brain screamed that this was going to be a disaster my heart was throwing itself all-in to the magical connection I had felt that night.
Mr. Handlebar picked me up for our first date in his grandpa's car and took me to a restaurant called the Cowboy Cafe. We got burgers and beer and talked about everything that we covered in that first night until I worked up the nerve to address the elephant in the room and explained that I was newly single. This was not met with the enthusiasm I expected from someone who was so genuinely dumbstruck that I wasn't available just a few weeks ago. He stuttered through some congratulations/this is great lines and promptly let me know that he was totally into dating, but wasn't looking for anything serious at the moment. Having been single for all of a week now, I assured him that we were on the same page. And while I wasn't ready to jump into another relationship, the screams of 'disaster!' from earlier were starting to make their way to my heart. (It would take me a full year of dating in DC before I was able to realize that these were the classic signs of the DC Man-Child.) And then the check came. He looked at me expectantly and so I offered to split it, which he quickly accepted but then followed with, "Don't worry, I have a Groupon!" Now, I am Midwestern. I LOVE saving money, and I'm a strong, independent woman and don't mind paying my own way. But seriously?! This was my re-introduction to dating: a coupon and going dutch - together?! At this point my brain and heart came together and yelled "What did YOU do?" And obviously, not willing to admit to either that I had possibly acted rashly, I continued to go out with Mr. Handlebar for another month. He used Groupons on all of our dates....
