Hell Hath Frozen

It must be cold for Satan these days. I can't figure out how or why it happened, but hell must have frozen over this weekend because a guy asked me out.

On Saturday night, I was at a cast party for the show that I house managed during the Fringe. I was surprised I was even invited, which I guess is a great testament of my ability to a) make friends; and b) run a tight show schedule.

During the run, I developed a small crush on the lead actor. He's tall, lanky, blonde, blue eyed and British. Oh you better believe it's the accent that I fell for. :) I also developed pneumonia, which resulted in my missing 3 of the shows.

And now, for the back story...

The last time I saw the Brit before the pneumonia KO'd me was on Monday night after the show. We all gathered at the Tranzac, as we did after every show, as that is Fringe headquarters and party palace. Each night there was some sort of dance party or special event. Monday was karaoke - need I say more?

My friend Gordon showed up and we decided to do the MJ classic "The Way You Make Me Feel" as a duet and humble tribute to the late King of Pop. Gordon got a little overzealous in his dance moves and crashed onto his knees about 3/4 of the way through. And that fucked the karaoke machine so bad it stopped dead and they had to take a few minutes to reboot it. The DJ promised he'd get us back up later.

So later turned into 2 hours later and by this point, I was feeling awful and was losing my voice a bit. I had quite a husk going on. Gordon and I were called back up and we decided to continue our tribute and do "Black or White".

This time Gordon behaved and we made it through the song. As I was coming down off the stage and wheezing a little bit, the Brit appeared before me.

"You were AMAZING!!!"

I squeaked out a thank you and before I knew it, he was crushing me in a hug. Awww. Cute. :)

After that we started dancing together. Every once in a while, he'd randomly hug me, and kiss me on the cheek. Double awww.

The time came for me to say my goodbyes as I had a super important meeting at the day job the following morning. He gave me yet another hug and kiss and said, "You are so wonderful." Triple awww.

Tuesday morning came and I ended up not at the important work meeting, but at the walk-in clinic being told I had pneumonia in my right lung. I called work and told them I'd been ordered to bed. I followed that up with a call to my boss at the Fringe informing him of my disease. So no show for me that night.

Wednesday & Thursday came with more bed rest on my part, and more confusion at Fringe. Was I coming back? How many more days did I need to rest? Would I be well enough before the end of the festival?

Turns out Friday was the magical day for me. I didn't go to the day job, and I slept for most of the day so I could make it through the shift.

When I arrived at the theatre, the cast was thrilled to see me back. Apparently all hell broke loose while I was away. The Brit was particularly happy to see me. The first words out of his mouth were, "I was worried sick about you." That was followed up with another wonderfully crushing hug. He then told me he feared he'd done something offensive to me at karaoke night and that's why I didn't show up on Tuesday. The cast didn't know why I was missing until Thursday!

At those last two shows, I noticed he was making effort to come visit me whenever he could. At one point during a costume change, he peeked his head around the corner, smiled and waved.

...long back story eh?

Sooooooo, I arrived at the cast party fashionably late. The Brit had yet to arrive. I brought some beer for everyone, which made me a mini hero of sorts. I chilled and talked with members of the cast and various friends/significant others. About half an hour later, he showed up.

Upon sight he gave me another one of his patented crushing hugs and declared how thrilled he was to see me. He also mentioned he didn't think I was actually going to show up.

From that point on, we were inseparable save the occasional pee breaks and smoke breaks (for him, not me). We chatted about pretty much everything. He asked me a million questions, one of which was, "Are you single?" I begrudgingly informed him that yes indeed, I was. He also asked if I've ever had a serious relationship. I told him about my ex-husband to which he replied, "Ooooh, a divorcee! How sexy!" That made me laugh. I've never thought being a divorcee was sexy in the least.

As the night wore on, he became more and more drunk. I gotta hand it to him though, he can really hold his alcohol. I saw him put away at least 10 beers. And the more he drank, the more he flirted with me. He sat on my lap at one point - that bugger weighs less than I do, I'm sure of it. He sat beside me and held my hand for a few moments - he's got really slender fingers. And he tried to crawl up my jeans. Yes, he tried. I was standing rockin' the bass on Rock Band and he crawled along the floor and his hands found their way up my right pant leg. He tried to stuff his head up there too but thankfully there was no room. And even more thankfully, I'd shaved my legs that morning!

Around 4:30am, I finally decided I had to go home.

I gave him a hug and said I'd had a lot of fun. As we pulled back, he looked at me and said, "We're friends now right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, since we're friends, we could get dinner some time. Or grab a pint?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"I'm so happy I met you! Is it totally rude of me to be asking you out like this?"

And that's when Satan pulled on a pair of long johns for the first time in, well, eternity.

He gave me his number, another few crushing hugs and off I went. I sent him a text message shortly thereafter so he'd have my number.

And now we'll see if he actually follows through.