Monthly Archives: October 2006

You Asked For It

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A few weeks ago I was talking to this cute guy at the Pub… we had the usual getting-to-know-you kind of conversation: where he’s from (out of town, of course. Baton Rouge though), where he works, the state of New Orleans, etc… I actually had the drunken nerve to start the conversation and opened with a compliment on this choice of neckties… his sister gave it to him as a present.

His sister has good taste in ties.

Anyway, at first I thought he was just tolerating me. Another bored drunk, happy someone was talking to them; even it if it did happen to be me. As the conversation evolved it got really interesting and funny and it was pretty obvious we were both having a good time. Yadda, yadda yadda.

I’ll spare you the details, but I ended up doing the bike ride of shame back to my apartment the next morning. In the rush of packing my stuff I left my USB Drive in the hotel room and received a rambling voicemail the next afternoon about how he had placed “this technical looking metal device” in an envelope and left it with the front desk. I still have the envelope and sniff it every now and then. (I’m kidding – although I did find the envelope the other day while cleaning.)

It’s sad to say but rarely does someone I meet from out of town actually keep any interest in me after their 12 o’clock checkout. I’ve been trading text messages and e-mails almost daily with John ever since. He’ll send me stuff like “Happy Wednesday morning!” and I’ll send him long convoluted emails about sushi and laundry. It’s cute.

I like cute.

Anyway, he came in town last night and we hung out again. At one point he jokingly mentioned… “So, I was reading your blog [ed: (ACK!)] and … I was looking all throughout August and there was nothing about me in there.”

So here it is bucko, consider yourself officially blogged-about. I resisted mentioning you falling into the gutter in a drunken stuper.

Your secret is safe with me.

I Am Vincent’s Seductively Fluttering Eyelashes

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Last night I went to Lafitte’s to replace a laptop keyboard for one of the bartenders and then went to the Pub afterwards to see who was out. There was a really cute man sitting in the corner of the bar, by himself, drinking a beer, obviously waiting for someone to talk to him. He was maybe late 30s/early 40′s and wore a very light yellow dress shirt, light purple/yellow/brown striped tie tugged a little loose from his neck and a brown pinstripe suit vest.

He was quite possibly the hottest man in the world.

I walked over and stood next to him at the bar and in a bold move that is fairly rare for me when I’m sober I say “do I know you? You look really familiar.” (Cheesy as hell, but it’s the best opening line ever. Really.)

He looks up at me and in a British accent that could fry an egg he says “I don’t think so, I’ve only been in New Orleans since this afternoon.”

His name was Andrew and he’s an actor and playwright originally from England but now living in New Zealand. He’s “on holiday¹” for the month, visiting the U.S. by train. He’s gone to San Francisco, L.A., Seattle, and now New Orleans. He left this morning for Chicago, then New York and leaves for home from Miami next weekend.

After we talked for a while,I released him back into the wild. He kept telling me he was staying in a “hotel not far from here” and “just across canal street” so I’m pretty sure he was fishing for me to go with him. Damn weeknight! The thought of either a) walking back from canal st to St. Ann to get my bike at 3am or b) waking up at 6am to walk to my bike, pedal home, get dressed and make it to back to work for 8am was just too much trouble.

Andrew, is this you?So I came home and did some e-stalking. I’m aproximately 91.8% certain this is him. The voice recording sounds like him and it looks like him, only slightly more flawless and airbrushed. Click the picture for his bio at aucklandactors.co.nz

Andrew, is this you?

So, instead of staying the night with my fantasy come true, I rode my bike home at 1am and had a fast food bag of garbage thrown at me from the window of a passing car. I was the victim of a post-katrina drive by trashing.

¹ Jesus, that’s hot.