So I met this guy.
Surprise. That’s how these always go.
It was at the Beatrice Inn, when I was trying to make amends with Jenny. Which sort of worked, I guess, if by “sort of worked” we mean, Jenny smiled and said, “it’s okay, I’m over it,” and her face was clearer to see through than her vanilla vodka and it said “I’m trying but I’m not sure I can be friends with you ever again.”
But we can still try.
In the meantime, we texted Sebastia, who must have been drunk because he came by Beatrice and started talking to us about art and The Trascendentalists. I was like, okay, The Transcendentalists must be a band, right? So I let Jenny and Sebastian talk about those together, and while I texted Eva, this guy came over.
He was gorgeous. We talked for maybe five minutes before Jenny declared “Eva just texted – The Strokes are all at Milk and Honey, and now that Fab and Drew are done, we have to go!” So we did, but I gave this guy my number.
He called the next day. A little too eager for me, but whatever. He calls and he can’t seem to carry on a conversation. He asks me questions like “so where do you live?” and “where are you from?” and I’m like, okay, you have no game, buh bye.
But then he says he works as an artist for Tadashi Murakami.
Yeah, THE Murakami. The one with the bags.
And he says he’s working on this giant Louis Vuitton print painting for an opening he’s having next month, and would I like to see it?
ARE YOU KIDDING?
But. This guy is dreadfully boring. I almost hung up on him four times during our conversation. It was like watching BBC America in Spanish, that’s how dreadfully dull the whole thing was. So what should I do? Date him despite zero interest so I can see this incredible painting (and meet Murakami and have him autograph the inside of my bag)?
Or do I just back away, slowly, from the cute and incredibly well connected, but dreadfully boring boy?