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How did I get here? It’s 6 a.m. and I just got home. I have one hour until I have to put on my skirt suit and go to the office. I haven’t been to bed. The last meal I had was coffee and pie a few minutes before I was verbally assaulted by a 40 year old PTA mom named Suzie.
“How did I get here?” is actually a rhetorical question…because I know exactly how I got here and it really is all my fault.
6 months ago exactly…
He looked at me, kind of in that lingering way. We were standing in line at a popular beer garden in Los Angeles. I didn’t mean to stare, but I couldn’t look away.
I was a few people ahead of him, chatting with my best friend who was valiantly trying to pronounce German beer names, ultimately choosing the beer with the highest alcohol content. I had turned to grab us menus, hoping to elongate the day drinking marathon with some strategic carb intake, when I saw him standing in the doorway.
He was dressed like a reformed boy band member in well fitted jeans and a t-shirt, a bunch of silver rings and leather bracelets that screamed ‘I went to burning man before the kids ruined it,’ and a jean jacket that looked like he ‘rejects religion and embraces spirituality.’ He had a full head of salt and pepper hair and his beard was growing in like he’d just been on a weekend surf trip where he subsisted solely off mangos, tequila, and shredding the gnar.
For the record, this is not my type. I try to totally avoid the LA aesthetic at all costs. I have no interest in competing with Instagram models and generally speaking I am unimpressed when people have famous friends, small dogs and/or fast cars. Similarly, tell me you have an IMDB page and I don’t think “HOT ACTOR” but rather “UNEMPLOYED THEATRE MAJOR”. Some call me jaded, I think I’m realistic.
So yeah, in most cases I go for Nerds or Southerners. But there he was. 20 years past his prime, and…wait for it…as we locked eyes he held the door open for not 1, but 2 children.
Could they have been his niece and nephew? Maybe – but I knew they weren’t. Spitting images of their father, I bet both kids get stopped in the mall by model scouts twice a week. That is, if they shopped at malls, and not local French-Vegan boutiques.
Once I spotted the kids, I caught myself holding my breath, waiting for their gorgeous lifestyle blogger/natural lavender soap maker mother to follow. Two seconds, three seconds, four seconds…and no one showed.
In those moments, when I realized this was a Hot Single Dad in the wild, something inside of me was ignited. I didn’t want to get his attention, I needed his attention.
I let three families order before me, slowly allowing the HSD and his kids to approach my friend and I in line. Once they had caught up, I casually said to the youngest, who was wearing a volleyball uniform, “Oh! Do you play? I’m a coach!”
I never thought I’d use my volunteering to coach volleyball as a way to talk to hot dads.
Wait. No, I definitely thought that. But I digress.
The HSD immediately introduced himself. We shook hands, holding on a second longer than appropriate, and chatted about politics and other very sophisticated things I now forget. We didn’t break eye contact once.
Just as I was dropping hints that I babysit on the weekends, the cashier was both rude and selfish enough to ask for my order. Just like that, I had to break eye contact and move along, leaving my HSD in line with nothing but a wave goodbye and last lingering ‘Nice to meet you!’
We saw each other once more in the beer garden, exchanging knowing smiles but no words. I watched as he and his kids finished their lunch, he downed his beer (only one because #responsibledad) and left the restaurant.
My friends were merciless, asking if I could actually undress him with my eyes. Prodding me to know if I only like guys with receding hairlines, or if I’m in the market for stepchildren. I ignored them, focusing on my schnitzel.
It’s for the best, I thought. I’m in no place to be a step-mother, and if I introduced him to my parents would my dad immediately sucker punch him or go directly for the steak knife? Plus, does he even know who Post Malone is?
Just as I was coming to terms with the fact that I let a real-life HSD get away, never to be seen again, he walked back into the restaurant (no kids…were the kids in the car? Did he take them home?) and walked directly up to our table. I raised my eyebrow, he placed his business card on the table, and all he said was, “You said you babysit? Call me.”
Oh, HSD. I sure do, and I sure will..
Respond
CallMeVictoria
Life is messy, let's get dirty. itwasvictoria@gmail.com
@callmevictoria
@itwasvictoria
Mr. Bandujo, come get yo girl
I’m not a silver rings and leather bracelets guy fam. Or a guy who’s procreated twice.
We all appreciate you more for that
You write some intriguing columns- I like it. You’re looking for a part-time boyfriend, I assume he’s looking for a part-time babysitter, part-time girlfriend to bump uglies. Sounds ideal, really.
And the top notch CMV content keeps coming…
She busted on to the scene like Deshaun fucking Watson
Truly
HSD knows his power moves. What’s on his business card?? Lawyer, doctor, “talent scout”? The world wants to know!
I hope for your sake he isn’t actually looking for a babysitter.
There are porn channels that would say it doesn’t matter if he’s looking for a babysitter or not.
Strikes me as more of a “baby, sit…on my face”
Rather than a “baby sit my kids”
Having to google Post Malone, even though you’re in your 20’s. PGP.
I’m 30 and I don’t know who Post Malone is either….
He’s a lyrical genius if you must know
Preach
I’m confident that a man’s peak attractiveness is early 30s to mid40s as long as he stays in shape. I can’t wait for some salt n pepper
When ladies love salt and pepper but your hair starts thinning at 25. PGP
That one hit a little too close to home…
Wholeheartedly agree.
daddy like
Need constant updates to this, please and thank you.
Strong content, reminds me of early Duda