The Boston Years Part 2

3 Aug

One night, I went to see some odd band at Bill’s Bar with a friend and the guy she was dating.  The band wasn’t my scene and my friend and I got separated in the crowd, so I headed towards the bar.  I selected the most attractive guy standing at the bar and sneaked my way in next to him.  Normally I would’ve just smiled, purchased my drink, and moved on… but this particular evening I was feeling ambitious.  I told him I had decided that he was the most attractive guy there, to which he responded by paying for my drink.  Bear in mind that now, in my old age of 27, nary am I that bold.  We shared another drink and the next thing I know we are balancing on a toilet, making out in the women’s restroom.  As things began to get as serious as they can be in a public restroom, suddenly I heard a loud male voice, shouting and banging on the stall door.  It was the bouncer, who had caught on to our antics and was kicking us out of the venue.  I threw my sweater back on before being aggressively escorted to the front door.  The bouncer asked for both of our IDs and I handed him my passport (I had lost my driver’s license earlier that month).  He photo-copied it and added it to a “Do Not Let In” list on the back wall of the ticket booth.  As I parted ways with the guy from the bar, I took his New York Yankees hat off his head and put it on (I never was a big Red Sox fan).  He told me we would have to hang out again so he could get it back.  The next day, I woke up with a new hat on my pillow and a friend request on Facebook.  It took me a few photos to figure out it was the guy from the night before- It had been dark and drunk.  I guess he took note of  my name while my passport photo was being plastered to the wall.  Needless to say, I never went to Bill’s Bar again and mystery man never got his hat back (sorry!).


A few months later, out again with my poor friend from school, I happened upon a guy who looked like he could’ve been the brother of my high school boyfriend.  They even had the same last name, it was weird.  He had a funny little sidekick with him that my friend spent the evening talking to while I was getting to know “Nathan”.  After the bar closed, Nathan suggested we all go back to their place to have another drink.  My friend wanted to go home, but I begged her to come with me because I didn’t want to go alone.  Once there, Nathan and I retired to his bedchambers while my friend was irritated with me in the living room.  We exchanged numbers and got together a few times after that.  The only things I can remember about him are that he was extremely attractive (he seriously could have been a model) and that he would booty-call me every other weekend or so.  Eventually we stopped texting each other and I started dating someone.  Several months later, I moved from an apartment in Allston to a new place in Brighton.  One day, I noticed my new next door neighbor coming out of his building at the same time I was leaving mine so I smiled and said “Hello”.  The neighbor turned and a look of horror came over his face.  It took me a minute to place who he was (I ran out of contacts back in ’07 and never bought more)… it was Nathan.  He must have just moved in as well.  A girl came skipping out of the building after him and he embraced her, hurrying her away.  Later that day I got a text from Nathan that read: “My girlfriend is really jealous.  Act like you don’t know me if we run into each other again.”  I never dreamed as a little girl, that by the time I was in my early twenties, I would have the opportunity to play the role of “The Other Woman” so many times.


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