GOOOAAAAL!

Hello all,

I have a joke for you tonight. It's one of those cool, "A guy walks into a bar..." jokes. So, a man walks into a bar and meets this girl. They talk for a few minutes and she saves him from this stage 5 clinger, expecting nothing more than maybe a simple, relieved thank you in return. Later on, his friend approaches the girl and relays a message that his friend, whom she had rescued so valiantly, would like to dance...

By now, you all are probably wondering where the punch line is and might be screaming, "Get the fuck on with it," as you scan the screen of your computer for some light humor, in search of a little chuckle. Sorry, there isn't really a joke. Even if there was, I wouldn't tell it. I can't tell a joke to save my life. I always end up in tears and spastic fits of laughter before I can finish it. Everyone stares at me like I need to be committed, and the joke is usually ruined. But meeting this boy, was a joke. Surely it must be, because I am Cara Overstreet and this sort of shit never happens to me. I mean, I thought it was a joke, some sort of prank maybe. But this, this actually happened. The unbelievable part is... it happened to me.

I'll start from the beginning. I went out for an afternoon at The Beaches with my friends Destiny, Joel, and Meagan. Normally, I don't care for day drinking, but the USA vs. some European team (who's nation has somehow slipped my mind) soccer game was on. I have recently been introduced to all the awesomeness that the sport of soccer is. So, naturally, I made every effort to support my country. And by support I mean watching as many games as possible while drowning in all of the drinks and greasy popcorn that The Ritz had to offer. Matt, Mitch and Mike showed up soon before, I guess it's called "kick off," and Cassie and Matt showed up later. The gang was all here, and it was truly a party of patriotic proportions. The bar was bleeding red, white and blue (and booze). People were wearing war paint and very creative outfits made solely out of American flags. Somehow, I found myself comparing this to the Quidditch World Cup. Per usual, Harry Potter seems to find its way into every aspect of my life. Glorified nerd!

Instead of leaving after the spectacular victory that USA put on the board, we stayed and celebrated with more drinks and more popcorn. I was cuddling a beer when I heard Meagatron and Destiny talking about these two guys up at the bar. They were whispering about how they see these same two guys all the time. One was standing next to the other fellow who was leaning determinedly on the stained wood of the bar. He appeared to be ordering a beverage. He was tall, bearded, and rather gangly in his black skinny jeans and grey t-shirt (I think this is what he was wearing anyways, details are... sloppy). He looked like the classic bad boy from any 90s movie. You know the type I'm talking about; dark, brooding, a balanced combination of hipster and indie, possibly some sort of athletic skill that didn't promote bulky muscles, and obviously intellectual. I say obviously like he was wearing glasses and reading Shakespeare while swirling his long, white fingers around the rim of a glass of red wine. It wasn't like that. I just felt like I could see it in the way he was holding himself. Confidence, perhaps?

Jeez, let me stop moaning over him already. Anyways, I had finished my beer, and Destiny and Meagan were also dry. We made our way to the bar, slinking in and out of couples making out and dodging drinks held precariously in extended hands. We happened to land right next to the two men who were strangers to me.

Attempting not to creep him out, because I have a knack for doing just that, I just let my friends introduce me to him and his friend. Tommy was his name. I couldn't help thinking of a little lad riding around on his tricycle with his momma hollering after him, and a golden retriever running beside him. It was so boyish, in a cute sort of way. His friend's name was Johnny. He's the most ridiculous person I have ever met. We spoke for a few moments as we waited on drinks. As we talked, I got a closer look at him. He had these subtle blue eyes that didn't scream for attention, he was about a foot taller than me, and when I looked closely beneath his man beard, I saw two dimples right in the corner of his smile. Oh my, fuck. Game. Set. Match. I was in trouble.

But, instead of going all Jane Austen and swooning, I coolly let everything play out. I walked away after my Sweetwater was handed to me. I did, however, keep an eye out for this beautiful, bearded man. I was sitting in a chair watching Cassie tease Matt, when something set off alarm bells. A girl came walking up to him and seemed very pleased to see him. CRASH! BURN! FUCK! A GIRLFRIEND! TIME TO ORDER SOME SHOTS BECAUSE OF COURSE HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND! Something in the back of my mind whispered, "Duh, stupid, WHY WOULDN'T HE?!"

My little heart drooped as I sank down over the brim of my mug. Of course, of course he was with someone. That sort of laid back, moody attractiveness had caught my attention, so it was obvious that someone else had discovered it. I was nursing my wounds when something told me to look up again. I did, and to my surprise, he seemed very disgruntled by the girl's arrival. In fact, he looked positively mortified and seemed to be trying to dodge her.

Sorry y'all, it gets slightly fuzzy here. I was not hammered by any means of the word, but I just can't seem to remember if he came over towards me or if I came over to him. Tommy is of no help either. I asked him how this whole rendezvous went down the other night and his recall was, "I walked up, and hollered. Then we danced."

But I ended up in his bubble again, and somehow the girl came up in our little talk. He was in fact trying to avoid her. I guess they had something at one point, not for positive what it was and how long ago it was. "Fuck the details," the positive part of my brain said. So, I decided to save him.

I saw her lurking in the corner ready to pounce once more. Too bad I was poised and quicker than she was. I reached him just as she got there, casually slipping my arm around his back and hooking my pinky through one of his belt loops. I made an overzealous, flirty gesture by placing my hand on his bicep as I told him I had been looking all over for him. The arch in her eyebrows told me she had definitely noticed. I laced my fingers through his and pulled him to safety. He thanked me graciously. I had to save his ass like two other times. Determined is not adequate to describe this girl. My heart almost twinged with guilt; I felt bad for her. Y'all know I have been super Girls Rule, Boys drool lately. But I didn't get that asshole vibe from him, and her body language and continuance in her pursuit of him put me off about her feelings.

We parted ways once more. But, shortly after, his friend Johnny approached with a royal invitation for a dance with Sir Tommy. Well, I don't dance. At least, not the way they do it today. The whole sex with your clothes on thing with twenty other sweaty people grinding and humping all around you, possibly making accident babies, never really took hold of my fancy. I look absolutely ridiculous doing it anyways. Like a llama with three legs, on roller blades, who had recently consumed hallucinogenic drugs, sort of ridiculous. On the rare occasion that I indulge in too much alcohol and catch the jitterbug, my lawyer advises that I make everyone within twenty feet of me sign a release form, as dancing with me may cause bruises, scrapes, spinal injuries, and in severe cases: death.

However skeptical I was of this Johnny, who looks uncannily like Slim Shady, I called his bluff. I told him his friend could ask me to dance if he wanted to dance. To my shock, he strolled over in a ridiculously cool air about him. That 90s bad boy undertone that I was speaking of earlier was practically radiating. I pictured him in this black leather jacket with some sort of helmet to a dangerous death machine under his arm (serious role play issues). Today, people call that air swag. I think that sounds like bullshit, so I just call it poise.

We attempted to dance for all of two seconds. Like I said, I am awkward as hell and did not want to scare this rare creature away. Instead, I attempted to converse with him, as talking is my one true gift from God. We spoke for a few minutes, but he said he had to leave soon. He told me to put my number in his phone. I did as I was told. Then he told me to call myself from his phone, so that he would "know it was real." I tried to stifle a giggle, he was really adamant about this. So, I called him right there so he'd have my number.

I didn't really expect to hear from him, but later, as I rode Cassie and Matt back to Destiny's apartment, I checked my phone and there was a message from Tommy. It said, "Testing, testing." Between the warm afterglow of a few beers and that text, I melted.

We've been out since, and he's awesome. I can't seem to formulate a better ending. I think the reason I cannot come up with one is because I am hoping there is more to come. So, come on.