I went out with Pittsburgh Guy again on Friday night. Well, went to his apartment, where he cooked me dinner. +500 points for doing that, first of all, because I cannot cook, nor do I care to learn how to cook, because I live in a city where I can order almost anything and have it delivered to me in a short amount of time. When people ask me why I live in New York, the lack of needing to cook has to rank very high on the list of reasons.
Anyway. Dinner at his place, made by him – tacos with homemade salsa. In the course of finishing up the cooking, the power blows on three separate occasions. This happens all the time, he tells me. I think, it’s 900 degrees and if your power is going out – and the air conditioning along with it – I’m taking the first subway back home.
Did I mention I was in Queens? The reasons I usually leave the island of Manhattan to travel to this borough in particular are: 1. beer gardens, 2. Greek food, 3. Mets games. Since this meal involved none of the above, this was a pretty big step for me.
Anyway, again. The tacos are finished, and they are delicious. We’re hanging out, I’m bonding with his dog (+100 for having a dog), having a good time. We are both getting updates on the Pirates game on our phones. He calls me pretty. I enjoy the attention, because it’s been a long time since any guy was into me this much. His dog loves me too. He sets up shop on the couch next to me.
So we hang out a bit, we mess around a bit, and I start to realize that my eye feels really itchy. Just my right eye, not my left, and so I rub it a little, and I start to think, my contact feels really weird right now. But I don’t have solution or drops with me, and he doesn’t wear contacts, so I’m kind of shit out of luck. I go to the bathroom anyway, to check out the situation… and find that my eye has swollen to the point where seeing is quite challenging, because I am basically squinting. Seriously, it looks like I took an Aaron Asham right hook to the eye. And it itches.
Not really the look I was going for on date #3.
My best guess is that I’ve had some kind of allergic reaction to something, but only in my right eye. Left eye, thank God, is fine. And as I rack my brain to figure out what it was, the only explanation I can think of is his cat, who I have mostly stayed away from. I’m usually fine around cats, but sometimes when I’m feeling generous and let my roommate’s cat lay on me for awhile, I start to feel itchy. So I figure that’s got to be it. I’m not allergic to any food – he had even asked me before making dinner – so the damn cat has to be responsible for ruining my very carefully planned casual yet pretty look for the date.
I hate cats.
He gives me some Benedryl, and I (embarrassed) say I should head home. It was kind of an awkward ending to the date – I mean, what exactly do you say to the girl who’s got a swollen eye? – and I begin my long, lonely trip back to Manhattan.
As I got on the subway, I was tweeting with a friend about my predicament, and she told me my life was like a movie. So, as I’m sitting there, swollen eye, traveling back from an outer borough by myself, I thought, if this really was like a movie, this is the part where my soul mate shows up, looking like Jake Gyllenhaal, boarding the train, sitting down next to me and saying, “Are you ok? Let me take a look at that. I’m a doctor.” Alas, my soul mate didn’t show up, and neither did Jake Gyllenhaal. Instead, I entertain myself by imagining what the other subway passengers think has happened to me. I can only hope that they thought the girl in the maxi dress from White House Black Market beat the crap out of someone else in Queens. You should see the other guy, right!? Ha!
The swelling finally completely subsided on Saturday afternoon, after I popped more Benedryl and spent half the oppressively hot afternoon with an ice pack on my face. He texted me to see how I was doing, and I refrained from replying, “This should be proof I should never go to Queens!” I can let him feel bad for a little while though. Maybe I’ll get myself another dinner out of this.