Desperate

I just received an email from themusicaldynamo, some guy, Larry, I had met at a nightclub in October of 2002. This was the type of nightclub where men walked by me purposely rubbing their crotches against my behind. I would like to think the late, second invite is because of my amazingly good looks, charm, high intelligence, sweet incrediblness-- that I left such a huge impression on him that two and a half years later he is still thinking of me--that girl in the black dress, with the light brown hair and green eyes, the rocket scientist, supermodel, published pulitzer prized winning author, the one who got away. But then I would be deluded and probablly rich and famous and definitely not sitting here writing this blog.

I maybe danced one, two dances with him to extremely loud pusling music, names were exchanged in shouts drawn out , "Your name is what? Drew?What? What? " From what I remember, (which I don't) he begged me for my phone number before I finally out of exhaustion, gave him my email instead to make him go away.

His email:
"are you ready to meet for that drink or cup of coffee sometime"

For a split second I paused and almost thought about writing him back and informing him politely that I had moved out of state. The truth of the matter is, he probablly has a whole email address book of women he sends this email to, using the bcc method and killing two (or in this case two thousand) birds with one stone.

I thought the statute of limitations on calling or emailing was three days. Six at the most. But two and a half years? Perhaps he needs to stop hanging out in those sleezy nightclubs and finding himself a hobby or a good therapist. Poor guy.