Summer 2011 for me was, apparently, the summer of weddings. Plus side: Six weddings in a short time span is a really good way to 1) Have fun with your friends 2) Embarrass yourself profusely by getting way too drunk and, last but not least, 3) Get strange business cards from a foreigner.
When I arrived at one wedding in July, I knew it was going to be a good night when I saw the band setting up and recognized them from a wedding I had been to the month before. They were called Hey Jimmy. I proceeded to introduce myself while relatively sober, reminding them of the wedding I had been to the month before. Did they remember my good friend who jumped on stage and stole the microphone and refused to give it back? (NOT me!). They did. We were instant friends.
Later on in the night, during one of the band’s breaks, the cute drummer came up to me and flirtatiously began to start a conversation. It quickly ended. You can all figure out why.
Drummer: “Hello! Are you having fun? You look really pretty tonight.”
Me: “Hey Jimmy!”
Drummer: “My name is actually Ron” (seductive smile)
Me: “HEEEEYYYY JIMMY!” (eyes unfocused, Kool-Aid smile)
Drummer: “I just told you, my name is Ron.”
Me: “JIIIMMMYYY!!!” (attempt to hug him, AKA tackle him)
Yeah. I’m pretty good at this whole flirting thing, aren’t I?
After the wedding a big group of us went to a bar. This is where things get a bit hazy for me. I thought I remembered most of the night.
I was wrong.
The next day I woke up and began to transfer items from my dress purse to my regular purse in anticipation of breakfast with a friend who had crashed at my place.
Which is when I found a curiously strange business card.
“Hey!” I called out to my friend. “Do you remember me meeting an Ozgur last night?”
“What?” he yelled back in confusion.
“Not Oscar, Ozgur. Do you remember him?” I clarified as I explained the card.
“Umm nooo, pretty sure I’d remember you meeting an Ozgur.”
I rewinded the end of the night slowly in my head. Did I meet him on the dance floor? No. Perhaps on the way to the bathroom? Again, no. Outside while having a cigarette? Nope, not then either.
“Oh!” I said excitedly. “Maybe it’s that really cute guy I was talking to at the bar toward the end of the night with the gray shirt!!!”
He laughed heartily. “Eh, no. That guy was like a Nick or a Tom. That guy was NOT an Ozgur.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said dejectedly.
He studied the card as he laughed hysterically. “This thing looks fake!!!”
At breakfast I was teased relentlessly by my friends. Me and my imaginary boyfriend Ozgur got into all kinds of interesting adventures. Ozgur making drug deals on our first date. Ozgur fixing my pipes. Ozgur always talking in the third person. Ozgur lonely. Ozgur need friend.
Later on that night the same friends decided to get together for a BBQ. I, of course, brought the what-can-only-be-described-as-obviously-fake business card.
USA BUSINESS & CONSULTING CORP. No position or title listed. The original “Phn” (seriously that’s how it was spelled out) number on the card was crossed off with another number written above it.
I decided to look him up on Facebook with my phone. He was a real person! And actually was kinda cute!
I passed around my phone to my guy friends.
One of my very lovely friends decided to request his friendship on Facebook.
Now I’m one of those crazy broads who friends you on Facebook after not even having remembered meeting you.
Of course, he instantly accepted and immediately sent me a message in broken English.
As I scrolled through his pictures, I honestly had absolutely no recollection of meeting him. How do I remember almost every other detail of the night EXCEPT meeting him??? Strange.
The next day I met some friends at a local music festival. I told them the story and, of course, they wanted to see his picture. They all agreed he was pretty cute and one of them piped in that I should ask him to come meet us out. What harm could it do? I was with friends and it was daylight.
I decided they were right and asked him to come out. And I’m pretty sure he left his house the minute he saw the message.
It was rather strange trying to have a conversation with someone who I didn’t want to admit not having remembered meeting the night before. I tried to play cool.
“Soooo…umm…was it just another normal Friday night out with you and your friends?” I asked slowly, not making eye contact.
He looked at me curiously, ”Just another regular night, I guess,” he replied.
Well, that was no help. Throughout the afternoon we chatted and got to know one another. He was actually pretty interesting and wordly, not to mention had a killer smile.
I informed everyone I was craving ice cream and he agreed to accompany me. Let’s try this again.
“I’m sorry to be stupid, but things got pretty hazy there Friday night! So where exactly were you sitting? Were you at that round table off of the dance floor?” I countered.
“Sitting?” he asked confused, “I was sitting in the front seat!”
That’s when it all clicked together. He was our cab driver from the night before!!!
“Your friends in the back were REALLY drunk,” he said. “But you seemed OK.”
Obviously not! The only part of the night I do NOT remember is the cab ride home.
As the day progressed my friends, one by one, began to go home. The sun was setting, so I figured it was high time I got my butt home, too.
I explained that I needed to go home and he said that he would walk me and his “car” was actually parked on the way and could he check on it? I thought it was strange he wanted to check on his car, but whatever.
As we are walking to his “car,” we were greeted by his friend whose name I couldn’t pronounce after three tries. Let’s call him E Throat Clear.
I’m also pretty sure this was a setup.
So we get to his “car,” which is his cab, and he said he had to get something. He dives into the front seat, which I eye curiously for a hint of a memory from two nights ago.
He had a bag of fruit for snacks, explaining that if he wasn’t able to find me he figured he might get a few hours of work in and wanted to be sure he had something to eat. He offered me a plum. I smiled gleefully. I love plums. My hard candy shell was starting to crack.
He explained that his friend lived right down the block and would I mind if he popped over there to use the bathroom? I didn’t see the harm in that.
I decided I might as well use the bathroom myself. I had been out in the 100-degree weather all day drinking mass amounts of water and had not once used the port-o-potty. Probably not a good sign.
When I came out of the bathroom, he was sprawled on the couch. E Throat Clear was nowhere in sight.
“Did E Throat Clear leave?” I asked, confused.
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug.
“Where did he go?” I wondered out loud.
“I don’t know. To check out the festival maybe?” he replied.
“And he left you in his house alone?” I asked. My red flag began to perk up.
He had a computer on his lap and put on some tunes from his native land. I cautiously sat down on the couch next to him and made sure to put my big sack purse between us as a buffer.
He then asked me about the scars on my hands, arm and knees. I had taken a tumble running a few weeks before and was still healing. I told him the story of my klutziness. At this, he grabbed my hand and began to kiss my scars, slowly making his way up my arm.
He then threw my purse out of the way and began to kiss me pretty passionately. It actually was really nice! But my mind screamed “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!” I pushed him away as I got up and explained I really needed to get home.
“Relax, relax,” he said gently.
I again sat down, but when he started in again I knew this was not going to end. So once again I shot up and explained that I had to leave, this time quickly making my way to the door. “I barely know you!!” I told him.
He agreed to walk me home and affectionately held my hand the whole way. He even split the rest of his fruit with me.
How kind of him to give me half his banana.
Pretty sure I could have gotten ALL of his banana if I decided to stay longer at his friend’s house.
First of all, don’t EVER give your phone to your immature guy friends when you are logged into Facebook. Nothing good will EVER come of this.
Second of all, don’t decide to ask out a strange man you don’t remember meeting who gave you a fake business card. Honestly, nothing good will likely come from that either.
Third of all, all men are the same! I’ve dated men from all corners of the world. All the same. All looking for the next piece of ass.
I just want to feel respected at least for a date or two. Can you give me that? Just a date or two? Act like you care about getting to know me before you jump in the sack with me!!!
Ozgur drive cab. Ozgur hold your hand. Ozgur grab your boob. Ozgur like.