Best Worst Date: Pittsburgh Blogger Guest Post

Guys! Stop! There’s the Pittsburgh Guest Blogger thingie happening today and I was actually invited to participate! I’m never invited to join these things! I’m like the goddamn Rudolph the red-haired herpes-laden reindeer of blogging. But Alex of Everybody Loves Alex was kind enough to have me join in on the fun, and I was thrilled to find out that Caitlin of Prettyburgh was chosen to guest post on my blog! This girl knows all of the best happy hour places in Pittsburgh and I really need to start hanging out with her and stop drinking swill from Chooch’s old sippy cups. My, um, “Pittsburgh Travel Guide” can be found over at Everybody Loves Alex, that is if he can stop getting drunk at Babies R Us long ago to put it up.

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 When Everybody Loves Alex proposed the idea of a Pittsburgh Bloggers Blog Swap, I got very excited.  The long, disgusting, repulsive, inhumane winter really got me in a creative funk.  The idea of being forced to write a blog about a topic picked at random by a complete stranger sounded like just the ticket to get back to some writing.

BUT IMAGINE my excitement when I was picked to write for Oh Honestly Erin?!   Her blog is filled with raw, uncensored musings about cemeteries, amusement parks, her son, and her manservant…errr…boyfriend Henry.

Erin asked me to write about my worst date ever.  Interesting topic as I am newly single.   The thought of awkward dates, being set up with strangers, etc. is enough to make me want to move to a commune and become a sisterwife.  JK.  But really, dating can be exhausting.

Thinking more about all of the dates I have been on, one certainly will always stick out in my mind as the BEST worst date ever.

I was 16 years old working as a hostess at a local sports bar/restaurant.  A bunch of teenagers working in one restaurant seems to really highlight the hormones running buck wild and all over the place at that age.

One day my fellow hostess told me her friend, Jamison, was coming in for lunch and she thought we might get along.  She said he loved music, was really attractive, funny, easy going…sounded right up my alley!

He walked in and holy.shit., was he cute.  Huge smile, bright blue eyes, great laugh, and friendlier than any men I had recently met.  We chatted for a bit and immediately clicked.  He asked me out to a concert.  How exciting! I loved going to shows and couldn’t think of a better date.  I was smitten as a kitten.

After work, I hauled my girly ass to the mall to get a new outfit for the show that was that night.  I ended up leaving the mall with a lace top.  The shirt reminded me of the scene in Reality Bites where Ethan Hawke tells Winona Ryder she looks like a doily.   I also bought a new pair of white jeans…good choice for a concert…

Anyways,  I went home, did my hair which may or may not involved sparkle hair clips, and put on my makeup which may or may not have involved eye glitter.  It was 2001! Cut me a break.

So I walk out of the house looking something like Baby Spice.

Jamison picks me up and we talk the entire way to the show about anything and everything.  At that age, I was used to being the outgoing one on a date since that is maybe the most awkward time for boys that age (voice cracking, accidental boners, etc. etc. etc.)  But Jamison was just as chatty as I was.   He was so very excited to see the band that was playing.   They had just brought on a new lead singer whom he had never heard or seen before.  I loved his enthusiasm for music, as it was and always will be, my first love.

Oh hi! Caitlin with Sharon Van Etten at a concert with less mosh pits and bleeding nostrils.

We get to Club Laga, me in my doily, blow dried hair and over-pasteled 90s make-up, and Jamison in his jeans and black tee.

I am suddenly in shock.  I see more gauged ears, black lipstick, chains, and septum piercings than I had ever seen in my entire lifetime.  I was at a Dillinger Escape Plan show.

Keep in mind, I wasn’t mortified because of how everyone else looked, but because I was 16-years-old, self-conscious, and stuck out like the sorest thumb that ever existed.

“I got this,” I told myself.  Jamison wasn’t fazed.  I didn’t know if it was because he was so excited about seeing the show or because he genuinely didn’t care or notice how ridiculous I looked amongst the backdrop of  hardcore punk fans.  I would later find out both things were true.

The music/screaming started.  It was really something.  It certainly wasn’t my taste musically, but the energy behind the band was crazy.  Jamison had stayed in the back with me so I wouldn’t be pulverized by fellow concertgoers.   I could tell he would really enjoy going up into the moshpit, so I told him to go up and I would be just fine.

And I was…until Jamison came back 20 minutes later with a face full of blood.

“What happened? Are you okay?!”

“The pit is fucking awesome.  I think I broke my nose.”

What.

Blood was everywhere, and we went into the men’s bathroom to clean him up.  Upon walking in, there were two men at the urinal..if I wasn’t already sick from the blood…I sure was now.

But I looked at Jamison who had a big smile on his face and was laughing at what had just happened as his bloody nose dripped onto my new white jeans.  I couldn’t help but start laughing with him.  It was one of those moments where you say, “Who am I and how did I get here?“ The moments I now live for.

Jamison and I ended up dating for about 5 months.  I still look back on that relationship as one of the most exciting ones I have had.  I think we were both so thrilled about meeting someone we could learn different things from, and we had no bitterness in our hearts from previous relationships.  We just purely enjoyed one another.  Every date was like a new adventure.

Now that I am single again, thinking about my relationship with Jamison reminds me of how important it is to not close myself off to experiences that might not be my “normal”.  Not even just with relationships with men, but relationships in general.  I think as people get older, it is easy to find comfort in routine.  But I can honestly say the times I have let my guard down, tried new things, met new people, are the times I grow the most and learn about myself.

And while I never listened to the Dillinger Escape Plan again, Jamison introduced me to Nick Drake, The Moldy Peaches, Mitch Hedberg, Gustav Klimt, a myriad of jazz, and the list goes on.  And I am more than thankful for that night at Laga.

And as Comic Book Guy might say, “Best worst date EVER.”

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Thank you, PrettyBurgh! This made me laugh so hard because I like DEP and can imagine how blindsided you must have been! But just so you know, if you ever want to guest post on my blog again, it totally has to be about the two guys in the urinal.