Labor Day is just as laborious as ever when it comes to trying to find love. Rewind to 2014, and I find myself in a similar position to last week’s blog post.
Again, my friends and I start the night off at The Parker House and then end up at the Osprey. Two Jersey Shore establishments known for amazing nights and terrible hangovers. I notice a tall, cute brown haired guy dancing near the band and decide to introduce myself. He buys me a beer and a Fireball shot (helleww big spender), and I give him my phone number as a thank you… and because I’m beyond excited that I’ve clearly managed to find love over Labor Day.
And then I lost him.
After exchanging numbers, we got separated, and, per the screenshot below (and on @chekkmeout Instagram – shameless plug for followers) I am clearly destined to find him. In case you didn’t know, I was by the band.
Sadly he wasn’t able to find me by the band that night, but I wake up Saturday morning with a smile when I see that he’s already texted me. “Ugh bad hangover but the morning beer is helping, c u 2nite?” It’s probably the most romantic text I’ve ever received from someone I met in Manasquan. My new BF and I text all day and I’m excited at the idea of seeing him later on.
I have a few cocktails on the beach with friends and we talk about the promise of my new boyfriend. We make a plan to be ready for the bars around 9. Upon arrival, Manasquan BF finds me right away, I introduce him to my friends, and before you know it, we are basically Beyonce and Jay-Z: drunk and in love. I’m sad that the summer’s ending, but luckily he and I both live in the city and are going to see each other all the time.
The next weekend, we make plans for dinner, and I am beyond happy and excited until he uttered the dreadful words: I live in Hoboken. I had never been before and thought of it as a a different world, being all the way across the Hudson. Yet a boyfriend is a boyfriend regardless of city, so I agree to go to Hoboken. I’m able to overlook the fact that I’m off the island of Manhattan because he is so cute / fun / perfect / great dancer. We go on a triple date with his roommates and their girlfriends (they are most likely wondering who the hekk I am) and he takes me to a few of Hoboken’s finest establishments (lol).
On our next date, he starts talking about weekend plans we can make, and suggests going upstate for a fishing trip. I am giddy at the thought of a fall weekend away with new boyfriend, and mention that I’ve never actually gone fishing before. Our date went well so I went back to his apartment for a drink, and was given a goodybag gift of a fishing kit… He is eager to teach me, and just so happens to have an extra kit and instructions for how to tie with Kreinik materials (wtf does that even mean?). I think it’s cute that he wants to teach me and I head back to Manhattan with the promise of a new boyfriend and a new skill.
A few days later, he texts to see how my fly-fishing practice is going. Not wanting to lie to him, I say that I haven’t had a chance yet to practice my skills. He says that he’s not going to take me until I have proof that I have taught myself (I mean, does he expect me to go cast out a line on the East River?). A few more days go by and the texts start to dwindle. When I ask him about his upcoming weekend plans, he mentions that he is going to Vermont to fish. He never extends an invite.
Looks like even a kit couldn’t help me reel him in, and I’m just where I started: no fish and no boyfriend.
The below is a real image of the kit received: