NTKOG #2: The kind of girl who eavesdrops on people’s conversations and subsequently kinda-sorta asks them out in the subway.
I am: medium-extroverted in most situations. As in: I indulge in friendly banter with cashiers and waitresses, and occasionally random passers-by, but do not, a) enter into actual conversations, or b) introduce myself in any way, shape or form to randoms on the street.
I am not: crazy, after all. And certainly not the kind of girl who makes things happen — especially connections. Heck, my most important romance was started when I found the guy’s blog by googling my own name. So. You might say passive meetings are more my speed.
The scene: Riding the subway home with the sister after a little stroll through Cambridge. We’d just gotten back from a big Irish wedding — positively bursting with babies & booze — where I was an abominable failure at being anything other than my normal self. “I think I made a huge mistake,” I sulked to sister. “I miss all of my awesome nerd friends.”
Just then, I hear a voice behind me, a cute hipster guy wearing plastic glasses frames and, I think, possibly a vest:
CHG: “Then, while I was dropping off the answer sheet at the bar, they handed me a piece of paper for the bonus round. It was ten presidents and you had to write all of their middle names. I aced it in thirty seconds.”
Glory, glory! My heart accelerated. In this world, there are three things I love beyond measure: bars, presidental nicknames, and cute hipster boys (possibly wearing vests.) After a few minutes of intense eavesdropping on the crowded bus — and apparently I get surprisingly agile when there is a thrilling conversation to be overheard — I leaned back and asked CHG the name of the bar. He told me and cautioned that it wasn’t a particularly good one, then turned away. Disappointed, I decided to leave it at that.
Until he spent three or four minutes discussing with his friends his ideal trivia team: large enough to be totally dominant, but as small as possible, to maximize his cash-prize winnings. “I think it should be just me and [friend]: I know pretty much everything, and he can do sports and obscure anime stuff.” His adorable friend turns and asks, “What about me? I can help too.” CHG responds without even taking a breath: “We don’t need you. And why win $33 when I can win $50?”
Hold the phone. Arrogant cute vest-wearing hipster guy with functional knowledge of presidential middle names?!
I leaned into dejected adorable friend, and asked, “So, are you Harvard guys? You seem so … so smart.” He explains that they’re not, but they seem pretty pleased with the question; I explain that I’m not a total psycho, but just moved and want to meet smart people. My sister asks, “You didn’t go to Boston College, did you?”
CHG: Well, we did go to BC, in a manner of speaking. A different BC…
TKOG (ie: me): Huh?
CHG: Boston Conservatory.
TKOG: Oh, wow, how cool! What do you study?
CHG: Musical Theatre.
Ohhhhhh. I’ll admit I was hoping he was an electric guitar savant, composing a paradigm-shattering modern symphonic situation. But don’t get me wrong, I love showtunes (and the mostly gay guys who perform them.)
We banter for a bit about the roles he’s played; his eminently straight, still-cute-but-actually-in-my-league friend keeps the conversation going, which gives me hope that the guys will take my next move well:
M: Let’s be friends on facebook!
CHG: Okay.
M: No, seriously, I am totally holding you to this.
CHG: My name is –
M: [hands him an index card and pen] You can write it down. For posterity. See how serious I am about this?
The Verdict: As soon as I got home, I fbook friend requested him, with a little note reminding him that I am not a total creepazoid and I did just move to the area and I am absolutely red hot at trivia nights. So far, more than twelve hours later, he has not confirmed my request. Could it be that my asking a total stranger to hang approach was empowered to the point of friggin’ nutso? Or that I was slightly less charming than usual yesterday, sweating rivers because of the 80% humidity?
Whatever, I’m hoping the power of the tall, straight, in-my-league friend will compel him to accept my fbook friendship, check out my profile, and realize I’m a badass worth hanging with. Either way, I rule this NTKOG: potentially positive, but not to be over-used. It runs the risk of making you look like a crazy person, so only go for it if you really, really want to hang with someone and have no less-crazy ways to go about it.
[Edit on 8/24/09: Dude, he totally accepted my fbook friend request! I am The Kind Of Girl who would generally ignore this, rather than face the embarrassment of actually messaging him to propose a hang. So. You can look forward to my messaging him to propose a hang, and subsequent embarrassment, in the near future.]
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