It's a Small World...

On Memorial Day, my friends and I decided to hit up a beach bar. While the subpar crowd was a bit of a turn off at first, we made the best of it by starting the morning off with some shots of tequila and Red Bull Vodkas. The Ed Hardy-wearing, tattoo-bearing crowd looked much less toolish after a few of these various cocktails, and we began to loosen up.

While back and forth between the bar and perfectly placed table we grabbed, I kept my eye out for someone (anyone) who might be more my type than a boy wearing a rhinestone-studded t-shirt. Luckily, I spotted a tall blond wearing no shirt at all (and some dark Prada sunglasses). For some reason, he looked strangely familiar. I swore he resembled someone I saw at the indoor/outdoor bar the night before. I kept my eye on him while I waited for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

Unfortunately, I am not quite sure how exactly our conversation began. I vaguely recall standing by the bar. And at some point I asked him if he was at the bar the night before. He assured me he was not, but did tell me we'd met before. I was dumbfounded, and was pretty positive I had never seem this man before in my life.

Until that is, he told me that we'd met at the bar once and he was from this lame and faraway town. Ah yes, Mike. I did remember you. He was the very character who inspired my entry regarding boys who ask for your number but fail to (ever) call. So I told him that yes, in fact, he was familiar but never did use that phone number. He apologized and I accepted the rather insincere I'm Sorry and suggest he buy me a drink.

Mike claimed to have lost his wallet except for a $5, so he purchased his own drink and I purchased mine. (Why I let this happen, I will never know). We exchanged numbers again. He then put his hand down the back of my bikini bottom and started telling me what a great ass I had. This I already know, so I giggled flirtatiously and tried to pull his hand out. While the crowd was lacking any level of class, I did not want to succumb to this tacky display, complementary or not. I laughed about it a couple more times and then wandered off to enjoy my friends.

I frolicked with my friends for an undetermined amount of time and my phone began vibrating repeatedly. Mike was calling. Interesting. He told me to come to the beach. I told him I would in a bit. Five minutes passed and he called again. Wow, someone really enjoyed my ass. After a bit of persuasion from Mike, I told Janelle I was off to the beach for a little rendezvous in the sand.

I found Mike, sitting on his previously abandoned towel. We started making out almost immediately. Between smooches, I pulled off his sunglasses because I was obsessed with his sexy blue eyes. Since we weren't far from the bar, we had an audience. He told me that the girls about 15 feet away from us were jealous of me. I quickly became uncomfortable with the idea of being watched. Mike grabbed my hand and we walked down the beach.

On our two-minute walk to a less populated area, I found out that Mike is 27, an engineer, and went to UConn. All very interesting. We settled back into making out, but I was still weary of the teenagers within earshot and the family sitting out on their deck. I went along with the making out until my top fell off (eek!) and Janelle told me our friends were trying to leave. I scurried back to our stuff and bid Mike good-bye.

Unlike after our initial meeting, Mike made (over)use of my number for the remainder of the evening. He called and texted for our entire ride home and then some. He kept trying to get me to come to his faraway apartment (despite the fact that I was in no condition to drive). I put him off and pretended I was considering it for a while, until I finally told him "No" a solid two and half hours after I got home. This was the last bit of communication between the two of us.

Which is totally fine. And I completely understand him trying to get in my pants (or in this case, my fabulous bejeweled bikini). It's just so strange that I ran into him and he remembered me. And I made out with him on the beach for so long, almost getting abandoned. I had a "moral hangover" the next day for fitting in far too well with the trashy beach bar crowd. Norbert assured me that I am too hot to have such thoughts, and not to regret my sandy session. Now that a week has passed, I don't. But it's still so odd? Annoying? That the guy who didn't call was the one I ended up on the beach with three months later. I'm glad he was at least hot. But he still never called the next day.