December 1, 2010


Speakeasies are all the rage in Seattle. Last weekend we decided to check one out with a friend. After ringing the doorbell we were greeted by a hostess who led us to our reserved seats. It’s small and oh so cool. You should go.

Scoping out the room, we notice a cute guy. But, he was talking to a couple of other girls. They must be together and we dismissed the idea of meeting an interesting fellow.

Not long after, Cutie came over and started a conversation. Really cute. We swooned.

Turns out he came alone. Lively conversation followed. He mentioned how he and his friends liked to live life to the fullest. We were intrigued. After a night out, they choose:

Option A - Go home and sleep

Option B - Don't end the night, but also don't do anything noteworthy (like head somewhere for an after-hours drink)

Option C - Do something a little crazy and fun, like sneaking up to the penthouse suite of a ritzy hotel and hot tubing until the sun comes up

When our friend went to powder her nose, Cutie asked if we were up for Option C. He suggested a drive to the mountains to throw snowballs and enjoy the first snowfall of the year. We told him we were up for anything. (Really, we thought he was all talk.)

We closed the bar. Guy offered us a ride home. In his 1983 gold Porsche – hello!

We figured that in that car, a bit of kissing would be a possibility. Our friend said goodnight and Cutie asked if we were up for that drive to the mountains.

While the risks did pop into our head (potential murderer, driving into the mountains at 2 am, etc.), adventure trumped doubts.

There was a blanket in the back, and we had a hat and gloves in our bag so we cozied up for the ride ahead. There was no radio but plenty of "getting to know you" conversation. And for some reason Cutie allowed us to go through his wallet (yes, we’re nosy). He actually encouraged, probably due to the fact that we noted he could be a murderer. Out loud.

At the pass it was snowing. Snowballs were thrown. Which led to kissing.

Heading back to the city, Cutie asked what we wanted next. We replied, “What do you want to do?”

“Take you back to my place and have my way with you," he replied. Sigh.

We considered, but it was really, really late. We were tired and while we were interested, we weren't interested enough. So we told Cutie we’d had enough adventure for the night. "Good for you," he said as he patted our leg.

We thanked him for not murdering us.

Back at home but still sitting in the gold Porsche, we waited for him to ask for our number, but he didn't. And we weren’t going to ask for his. With a kiss and a "see you around" we said good night and were confident that not going home with him was the right decision.

We kind of felt alive from the experience. And that was enough.

Curiosity got the best of us and the next day we Googled him. (Knew his first and last name from the wallet browsing, remember?)

Top of the list: Engagement announcement from August.

Could've been a different guy with the same name? Wrong. There was a photo. And, to make it worse, Cutie was getting married in a week.

Ugh. A little guilt for kissing him followed, but how were we supposed to know? 

Which makes us now wonder, do we have to ask every guy we meet if he has a girlfriend? Or, if he's engaged? Is this another thing we need to worry about?

We squashed the urge to send a message via Facebook to his bride. But, now you know – don’t fall for the Cutie with the 1983 Gold Porsche and his adventure story.


Briana said...

What a shit! I can't believe it. But...a GREAT story, right?

Saltina said...

Now that's a story!