My best friend Kaitlyn and I have been friends for fifteen years. We went to high school together, we lived together after college, were maid of honor in each others wedding's, and she held my hand through my divorce. She's held my hair back when I've thrown up on the side of the street and has been there for some of the darker, trying times we all go through between the ages of 15-30.
So you can imagine how much I love my friend, but you wouldn't know it, by the journey I sent her on with the date from hell that was JORGE. In my defense, I'm a hopeless romantic and I had no idea he was, well, republican.
So many moons ago, Kait and I lived together in Virginia. I was working for Live Nation (Clear Channel at the time) and she was in grad school. We both worked what seemed like 22 hour days and on the rare occasion we had time off we went out in near by Washington, DC. On one such, rare, full moon occasion, Kait met...several potential suitors and in an effort to just get them off her back so she could enjoy dancing with her friends, she gave them her number but didn't remember whose face corresponded to whose name. Besides, it was dark, there was drinking involved, and in all fairness, she never expected any of them call.
But they did. Two of them. One of them immediately made a plan to see her. She was taken a back by his chivalrous sounding nature over the phone. How crazy could he be! His date plan was incredibly romantic. He wanted to take her out on the lawn of the National Mall where the Symphony Orchestra was playing live to a sunset showing of Dracula. I was practically swooning. I hadn't even seen the guy and I already had visions of my wedding toast I'd give and how I always knew he was the one when he planned this elaborate first date. After this story, a guy taking the initiative to ask is good enough for me.
They meet at the metro where she, in her little pearls and yellow cardigan are anxiously waiting. The sun shining on her pretty blonde hair. A man approaches her, he can't possibly be looking at her, he's kind of a wierdo, he's wearing, yes it appears to be and surely it is, a cape. He's dressed as a Vampire. He knows her name! He calls out to her and then she realizes. This is him. This is Jorge. She's going to kill me when she gets home.
Being the classy lady that she is. She smiled, said hello to her Vampire friend and vowed to make the best of it. The rest of the date, as you can imagine, did not go well. Jorge was a gentleman and offered to buy her fangs (he had his own and didn't need to buy any), but then didn't pay for her ticket! He insulted her line of work, which might I add, was mighty big coming from someone who believes he is a vampire. The kicker of course was not that he made her pay for her ticket, that he wore a cape, that he had fangs or that he insulted her work. He later, also, got into a bar fight with her friends and was escorted out of the bar. She sighed in relief and proceeded to get very, very drunk.
She was recounting this story to me the next morning when she crawled in my bed to tell me I was the worst friend of all time. I sat there horrified and, okay, maybe laughing a lot at the untimely demise of her short relationship with Jorge. She told me how he thought he was a real vampire, how he was most himself in vampire attire, how he had a kinship with bats. I pointed out that surely he couldn't have been that bad, I saw Interview with the Vampire. Twilight or Vampire Diaries hadn't come out yet, but surely there was something to this sexy vampire mystic, no? No. There wasn't. Though I would be onto something for the years to come. You're welcome CW and Summit Entertainment.
I served us some bloody's as she went through every embarrassing detail, vowing that I would never set her up again, ever and that she would never follow my dating advice. I was in a pretty serious relationship at the time with the man that would become my husband and then my ex husband, so in the long run, she was right. I didn't know shit about relationships.
She was right. I couldn't encourage that kind of behavior. Not in a 22 year old. Whose not an idealistic at 22? No, Jorge, was done for. There would be no little babies in cape/pearl hybrids. There would be no over the top Halloween. The story of Jorge would become something we would laugh about (and still do) year after year which I had to immortalize in blog.