Salsa

WHO: Zach

WHAT: Real life!

WHEN: A Saturday in the Fall of 2014

WHERE: Boom Boom Room, San Francisco

WHY: Now this isn’t really a date, it’s a “meet-cute.” In case you have never watched a romantic comedy and hate all wonderful romantic things in life, a meet-cute is a scenario in which two individuals are brought together in some unlikely, zany, destined-to-fall-in-love-and-be-together-forever sort of way (the more unusual, the better). After a year of online dating, I believed that meet-cutes didn’t exist. Until one Saturday night….

The story:
I had booked a Go-Go dancing gig in the city and was about to head home when I got a text message from a college friend I hadn’t seen in ages. He mentioned that he was playing a gig at the Boom Boom Room around 10:30 and asked if I would like to come hang and hear the jams. Now normally I’m an incredibly independent person. I go out to eat alone, I see movies solo, I read books alone in coffee shops, I watch 10 hours of netflix, all good things to do solo. However, when I’m dressed like a very expensive lady of the night, complete with fake eyelashes, 4 in heels, and a VERY short dress, heading to a bar solo isn’t my ideal activity. I give myself a pep talk in the car, throw a plaid flannel shirt that I found in my trunk over my tiny dress, and head to the bar.

I get to the bar and the line is around the corner. My friend is an AMAZING drummer but tends to play in Samba bands, so I’m confused because that isn’t normally the Boom Boom Room’s jam. I walk up to the bouncer who lets me right in, and I search out my friend. I’ve got 20 min before he goes onstage. We have a beer and catch up, and I learn that this is not his normal group. This is a BEASTIE BOYS COVER BAND. Oh HELL YES, this was the best choice ever.

I nab a standing spot at the end of the bar, and avoid eye contact with the creepy toothless guy a few feet away, the short guy who keeps scratching his right arm, and every other weirdo who has rolled right out of the 90’s woodwork to see this random show.

The music starts and I am pumped. But it only lasts for one song. This music is instrumental and they have given EVERY song a reggae backbeat. I’m staring dumbly at the stage wondering how long I can last before I call it night, when I hear someone loudly talking in my ear from behind.

Him: “Um, I’m sorry, but please tell me that you can’t decipher any Beastie Boys song from this music. I’m SO confused. Definitely thought this was going another direction.”

I turn around and come face to face with a tall, chisel-faced man. He’s wearing black glasses that he pushes up on his nose and adjusts his chambray shirt. He looks like a hipster Clark Kent and there are all sorts of butterflies in my stomach. He is just dreamy.

Me: “RIGHT? I mean, I thought the last song was “No Sleep Till Brooklyn,” but then I gave up trying to sing along when the hairy guy started chanting.”
Him, laughing: “I’m Zach. I’m here with some friends – guys night out, thought it was the right choice. Sigh.”
Me: “Tara, friend from college is in the band. Totally wasn’t prepared for the night, just had a dance show and decided to pop over.”

Zach leans in and puts his hand on my lower back. We proceed to talk for the entirety of the band’s first set. He’s originally from the East Coast, went to Amherst. He moved out here for grad school and is the VP of a tech firm. He loves his job, but misses the days where he would bartend at Cigar Bar and he loved the nights where the Salsa dancers came out and danced.

Me: “I LOVE Cigar bar! I used to go dancing there all the time. I accidentally left my very first pair of dance shoes there. They were custom designed for a show I did and it broke my heart when I couldn’t find them.”
Him: “Wait. Were they red with a black ribbon down the heel? Huge clasp at the ankle?”
Me: “YES!! THOSE WERE MINE!”
Him: “I found them my last night working! I was closing the bar and they had been tucked behind a planter. I always wondered what kind of person would wear such amazing and worn shoes. What stories could be behind them…”

We chatted some more, his arm around my waist pulling me closer to him so we could hear each other.

At this point I’m speechless. WHAT ARE THE ODDS OF HIM FINDING MY OLD DIRTY DANCE SHOES?! THIS MUST BE FATE!

The band takes a break. I find my friend and mention that I’ll probably be heading out soon. I head to the bar to settle up and the bartender said that my drinks had been taken care of by the tall gentleman. I turn to see Zach smiling and he walks over to me.

Zach: “Hey. So my friends and I are heading out. They wanna hit a strip club or something. Boys night and all. Married guys, jeeze. But, I just have to say that it was amazing meeting you and I really had a great time talking to you. You are incredible.”

He leans in a kisses me on the cheek and walks out of the bar.

I’m standing there dumbfounded. This could be my soulmate. I gather up my things and run out of the bar, ready to grab him and give him my number. But I’m too late. He’s hopped into an Uber and driven away.

I am pissed. I have spent millions of hours on terrible dates and here I have finally found someone IN REAL LIFE who is amazing and smart, who has a job and is funny and is tall. HOW DID I FUCK THIS UP??? So I went home and did what any totally normal (insane) girl would do. I posted something on Missed Connections:

Zach at the Boom Boom Room with the Brians- W4M

Me: solo girl at a not-so-good Beastie Boys cover band show who is Ninja-kicking herself for not giving you her number. (Manager of Berkeley Anthropologie by day, dance teacher by night)

You: super charming and cute ex-bartender from Cigar Bar turned financial district PR guy by way of Philly, who firmly thinks girls shouldn’t wear suspenders and lives in the boonies of Alameda. (And isn’t 42.)

In the insane off-chance that this ever finds you- lets grab a beer- it’s on me. 🙂

I went to bed. In the morning, I woke up to 27 emails from TOTAL CRAZY and random people who were not Zach, but would be okay with me calling them Zach, would be okay with me calling them Brian, would love to have sex with me, and some people named Brian who would like to see me in suspenders and nothing else, and would I like a few dick pics?

When I realized that NONE of these were Zach, I went into a DEEP and VERY dark Googling hole. We are talking over-the-head deep. But Googling and Facebooking didn’t prove helpful. How could they? I only knew where he went to school, where he was from, what kind of work he was in, and that his place of business was down the street from Cigar Bar. What kind of search engine could I use with this info? Oh, helllllloooo LinkedIn. How are you today at 3am when I’ve had 1 bottle of wine and am trying to find my soulmate?

Almost 2 hours later with my eyes going cross, I FIND HIM. I FOUND HIM!!!!!! Now, I’m drunk. And there is no way for me to email him since I’m not a premium member. Stupid LinkedIn. So I Google his work, totally unaware at how creepy I’ve become, and I FIND HIS WORK EMAIL.

So I do what any drunk girl who has found her soulmate at a bar does: I sent a message to his work email:

Hi Zach,

I am taking a shot in the dark here, but by chance are you the Zach I met at the terrible Beastie Boys cover band show in SF? If so this is Tara, we had a great conversation and I hoped maybe we could do it again sometime. I never do this so if you are not the same Zach, then thanks and have a good day!

Best,
Tara

I pass out and dream of our amazing “meet-cute” story.

It takes 3 days for him to respond. I see the email come up and I lose control of all motor functions. I open the email:

Tara,

Thanks for the email and yes, I was indeed at that show at Boom Boom Room, and yes indeed we had ourselves an amazing little chat and a lot of fun despite the entertainment. I would love to do it again but I don’t think my wife would greenlight me dating other people – at least not yet. I’ll let you know if that changes 🙂

Hope your night ended up okay and you made it back to Berkeley safely.

YOUR MOTHER FUCKING WIFE??!!

Nope. I’m moving to the mountains and living with goats. Real life blows.

Never Compromise on Tallness or Baby Hands

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