Ok kiddies - so this is a special one. He'll get more than one post...I mean, this fella has more than one nickname. Impressive.
Chubs - not particularly good looking or "fit." Extremely funny. I was actually nervous for my first date with him - something that isn't typical for me, being that I no longer have high expectations for any sort of chemistry with the brainiacs I meet. Our e-mails back and forth had me cracking up and he seemed mostly normal with just a dash of quirkiness.
Chubs was 5 years older than me - a nice little age buffer - not too old, not too young. He decided on Vig 27 for our meeting place. It didn't matter to me that he was going to be fat and goofy looking, I labored over what outfit to wear with my trusty friends on gchat and the phone. I was confident in the would-be conservative wrap sweater t-shirt thing (my friends will probably tell me there is a technical name for this type of garment) that, on me and my giant boobs, was a little suggestive.
I got to the bar before him and debated what to order. It's a weird thing, trying to decipher what type of drinks the night will lead to. I'm a beer girl, but looove me my G&Ts and wine (doesn't even have to be a "great" one). On dates I usually take the guy's lead when ordering (a la Julia Roberts' character in Runaway Bride with her eggs), but figured since he wasn't there, I would go ahead and order something I thought a "lady" would get: white wine.
Chubs arrived moments later and the date was great. He looked like a blond John Belushi, but I didn't care. In fact, I found it endearing. He was hilarious. We drank beer, then gin and tonics (which he had served up with a lemon) and then PBR. Theeeeen things got hazy. I remember clearly that he walked with his arm around me.
Minor make out sesh, a plan to get together again that week, and we parted ways.
Then we entered the dangerous world of texting...