A Good Way to Contact Someone Who Didn't Get My Digits?


You may recall that a couple weekends ago, I went to a party with Ruby Finch where I managed to get into a conversation with the cutest guy in the room--who was wearing a tweedy sports jacket with jean and sneakers (hence his pseudonym, Mr. Tweed Jeans). I was feeling some heavy flirtatious energy coming from the dude ... and yet, when I announced I was leaving, he FAILED to get my number.

Now, you might remember that there were a few possible explanations (beyond his just not being that into me) for why he might not have asked, namely:

-When Ruby came over and the two of them started talking about politics, I was bored, so I sat down--which he may have taken as a sign I wasn't interested.

-I refused to tell him my last name when he asked (fearing blog-related reprecussions, i.e. that he would read this puppy and decide I was a lunatic).

-As we were leaving, Ruby gave him her card (because he's looking for a job and she is majorly connected) and she in turn wrote down his email address, so maybe he wasn't sure who was hitting on him or what was happening.

Still, I felt like if he really wanted to, he would've figured out how to contact me. Instead, he simply held my umbrella, like I asked him to, as I dug a pen out of my bag so he could write down his address for Ruby.

* * *

However ... since I wasn't that into him--partly because, as I've said before, I'm hesitant to get involved with unemployed dudes (b/c I am a horrible person), partly because I can't imagine I'd ever date a political type, and partly just because-- I figured I didn't have much to lose by contacting him. I decided to do it at some opportune moment.

And so ... a few nights ago, I extended a very last-minute invitation to him, saying:

Hello there-

e met the other night and, if I remember correctly, you tried to abscond with my umbrella?

Anyway, a bunch of politicos are coming to my nabe tonight to (a) eat dinner at some groovy new restaurant and (b) attempt to bore me to death with their wonk-talk.


it's gonna be Ruby Finch and my dear friend Jake Stein, who writes for [redacted]. Also, some guy named Mark.

If you can you come, please do! We will be there at 8pm. The address is: [

redacted] . My cell

phone has moved on to a better opportunity ... but my landline is xxx/xxx-xxxx. or Ruby's cell phone is xxx/xxx-xxxx. or ... we'll always have email.

Would you like to know what he wrote back? All right, lovelies, I will tell you ... first thing tomorrow.



dear commenters:

-Paris! that Ecards site cracked me up all day yesterday! Here's the one I sent to Barnaby: I don't have time for a relationship because I'm too busy analyzing why I'm not in one . And to Ruby Finch, I sent: On my death bed, I want to remember the great naps I took ...and another friend got:When work feels overwhelming, remember that you're going to die . ... A fourth pal received:The only way I'd ever sell out is if any person or corporation gave me the opportunity to .

-Oh, and Barbie? Yep, I sent the one about having almost decided I was attracted to him to another male friend ...

-And Ellen, I'm glad SOMEONE was okay with the swine flu one ... I was a little worried I'd gone way over the top with that.

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