Eye-Fucking Works, or How I Ended Up With A Hill Staffer in My Bed

***Yes, this is an actual post I wrote the morning after meeting who you now know as the lovely and charming B. Enjoy!***

While I really have come to love DC in the six months or so that I’ve lived here, it does have one very obvious and much-blogged-about problem… the dating pool, is, well, dorky. And generally not that attractive. In the months since I’ve relocated to our nation’s great capital, I’m sure I could count on two hands (possibly one) the number of times that I’ve seen a guy and thought, “Whoa. He’s cute. I need to talk to him.” It’s not really a big deal (yet), because I ended a (terribly draining, or maybe just terrible) relationship when I moved here and have been concentrating on making friends and working 60 hours a week and all that. But I am a little boy-crazy in general (read: huge flirt) and I check out EVERYONE I see, because I find people fascinating and can’t help it. (Girls for fashion and comparison, boys for the obvious, old people for the interesting.)

So last night, Fellow Masshole bff and I (she is fantastic, and the reason that I called out hungover for the first time EVER last Thursday) made our way first to an alumni event of hers (apparently I went to college in Ohio, natch) at a bar I’d never been to. (Still haven’t been inside, technically- I’m told it’s fancy but touristy by my trusted Capitol-Hill-living coworker, Turducken.) The event was outside (it was sunny yet sprinkling?), very squished, and I got hit on by a college senior (half the attendees were here for the summer on internships, which made me feel oh-so-old. Then I immediately said, “Oh, you’re a baby,” which made me feel oh-so-older. It’s not really an age thing, it’s just that I couldn’t date someone still in college when I’m so clearly entrenched in the professional world. Different phases of life, and all that).

Miffed by the rain and late for a dinner reservation at one of my favorite restaurants in DC (best. pizza. ever.), we extracted ourselves and four tipsy girls took a cab three blocks (we were wearing heels, what?) to meet the Sweetest Girl Ever for our reservation. After, oh, 2 bottles of wine at the bar, and 3 at the table, (there were 7 of us, to be fair, but some had their own drinks… I had at least the equivalent of a bottle myself- happy Wednesday!), and eating a TON of delicious pizza, Fellow Masshole and I were to the point of needing to go home, and/or extricate ourselves from the group. (One girl, who we shall call High-Strung VegHead, was loud, argumentative and so self-centered that I knew I was about one drink away from telling her as much. I may have sort of bitched her out for being a shitty tipper, but hey, you shouldn’t be a shitty tipper. Our waitress was adorable, friendly and helpful, which was a nice change of pace from the service I usually receive in the restaurant. Why go back? Maybe you didn’t hear me say best. pizza. ever.)

Anyhoo, Fellow Masshole and I excused ourselves and upon exiting, immediately turned to each other and said, “Drinks at Fado?” (Have I mentioned that we’re trouble together?) Seeing as we’d had about 3 bottles of wine to drink between the two of us, we asserted that we should take it easy and get something on the milder side. Which went like this:

Me: Car bomb?
Fellow Masshole: (to bartender) We’ll have two car bombs and two vodka sodas, please.

Yeah, apparently that’s taking it easy. (Have I mentioned that we’re trouble together?) Three dorky and older guys to our right expressed their admiration at our drink selection (the car bombs), and then promptly challenged our ability to drink it. Apparently they haven’t met us. (Have I mentioned that we’re trouble together?) About two seconds later, as we slammed down the empty chocolatey-milk glasses and wiped off our mustaches, one of them turned to the other and said, “Whoa… they just drank that way faster than you do.”

One of them mustered a pathetic attempt at flirting with us, (I wish I could remember what it was he was going on about, but I do remember being truly astonished that he would think it was interesting.) I believe it was something about him, himself, and his life, and after a few minutes of the cold shoulder, Fellow Masshole asked him if he actually wanted to know anything about us, or if he was content to just hear himself talk, in which case we were no longer going to pretend to listen. Funny, I don’t remember him being around after that…

After bonding with the bartender, who was obviously impressed with our mad car-bombing skills, Fellow Masshole and I toyed with the idea of actually being responsible for once and going home at a normal hour. Just then, a very cute (!!!) Hill staffer stood directly in my line of vision while closing his tab. Never one to be shy (especially a bottle of wine deep), I promptly “eye-fucked the shit out of him“. (I’m crediting this even though I’m positive I said that before the movie came out. I am an expert eye-fucker.) And he gave it right back. As he walked by, he stopped and said, “Hi, I’m XXXX.” (My favorite line.)

He was adorable, and charming, and intelligent. He was taking out a group of interns (who were making out on the other side of the bar), which is totally hot (being in charge of other people, and all that). We talked easily and honestly for at least an hour. (Fellow Masshole, who is attached in the long-term-we-may-get-married sense, oh-so-discreetly handed me her drink, said, “Finish this. I’m going to bed,” and left, sensing that I would be just fine on my own…) He was complimentary, and in a genuine and truly flattering way. I felt completely comfortable with him, which I love, because I’m generally the kind of person who either clicks immediately, or just doesn’t.

Eventually, Intern Babysitter offered to walk me outside to find a cab. Which turned into us sitting on the steps of a church on 8th Street at who knows what hour, making out. Awesome. And I can’t explain it (maybe the wine can) but when he said that he really didn’t want to see me go, I couldn’t help but agree. Even though he had vehemently proclaimed his desire to see me again, and that he would be calling me TOMORROW, and watched my phone ring to make sure I hadn’t given him a fake number when he called it after getting my number… I thought it would be nice to cuddle with someone for the night. So I told him he could come home with me if he promised to behave.

And he did. (Both came home with me, and behaved. Read: I only had to remove his hands from inappropriate places a couple times, which is pretty good for a guy.)

And it was nice. We’ll see if he calls… for once, I have no doubt that he will.

Update: He just called! I win! And I have a date on Saturday…