After a brief 4-day stint at NYC, I am back in Philly for a few weeks to visit friends and family. The East Coast has always been near and dear to me as this is the place where all my wildest adventures always took place and my friends and I got in all sorts of ludicrous trouble (but, you know, in a good way).
This Saturday was no exception as one of my best friends and I decided to have ourselves a little reunion and go out to our old weekly hangout for some drinks and dancing. It was pretty crazy that, despite being away from the city for so long, I managed to run into pretty much everyone I know, from the guy who is this high school teacher by day and an insanely awesome dancer by night, to two of the girls from my high school (whom I never got along with, but I felt that it was awesome to see them anyway, since I looked damn good that night), to a guy I went on a date with two years ago.
With always having to go out with guy friends in Cincinnati, I felt so in my element finally going out with a GIRL, and dancing my heart out and enjoying male attention. I felt good. I felt like I was back on my home turf.
Around 1:00am, this gorgeous guy started dancing with me. Instantly, I felt this chemistry that's been lacking from all of my recent dates. This guy's smile, his eyes, his moves - everything seemed perfect to me in the strobe lights on the dance floor. But that's when it went downhill, and this time, I was the one to blame.
See, my goal that night was to dance, have fun, flirt, and not start up anything serious with any of the guys that crossed my path. So when this guy asked me where I lived, I told him that I still resided in Philly and went to graduate school here too. No mention of Cincinnati was brought up - my fatal mistake.
You see, because when he got my number at the end of that night, I didn't actually think that he would call. When he planted a brief kiss on my lips right before I left the bar, I thanked him for his company and told him to give me a call, without ever expecting to hear from him again. After all, why would I want to keep in touch? I was soon to go back to Cincinnati.
When he called tonight, I didn't except our conversation to go on for 40 minutes. I didn't expect him to be an ambitious, funny, polite, interesting guy. I didn't expect him to like the same music I do and have the same taste in movies as me. I certainly didn't expect him to ask me out on a date this weekend.
But he did. And now I am sitting sulking in the very same grave I decided to dig for myself the minute I lied to him about my current place of residence. Sure, he might ultimately turn out to be a douche bag and our impending date may turn out to be an incredibly boring, empty affair. But what if it doesn't? What then?
Do I tell him that, oops, I lied to him this entire time we've been talking and that I actually live 10 hours away and the next time I would be visiting Philly would be in no less than 3 months?
I guess honesty is always the best policy, but I lied only because I never thought that there would be this potential for more. And I kept up the lies because I didn't want to deny myself a chance for romance, even if it only has the time to last for one date. I mean, if I told him about Cincinnati, he may have done what any sane man would do in that situation. That is, he would toss my number out and forget about me because long distance relationships never start with chance meetings at bars.
But then again, maybe the best thing for both him and me would be to tell him the truth and just get this over and done with.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.