ALL / Dating

ChesterCopperpot

THE MEET

I met ChesterCopperpot at a wedding in the Fall of 2009. We were at a destination wedding 3,000 miles from anywhere on a ranch, so I didn’t really expect to meet anyone. I was lucky to be seated at the same table for both rehearsal dinner and wedding, but I had a lot of friends to re-connect with, so I didn’t chat to him much. I did let him know I was interested. During the ceremony I looked over at ChesterCopperpot and he was looking back at me, so I gave him a raised eyebrow and a smile before turning my attention back to the action. Easy as that.

THE FIRST DATE

After we returned to New York, ChesterCopperpot asked if I would meet him for dinner on Friday. 9 PM in Soho. I am chronically early, so I really have to temper myself on what time I decide to leave the house. After consulting my subway map, I decide that leaving home at 8:30 PM would get me to Soho at 9:00 PM, walking into the restaurant at 9:05 PM, which would be perfect. So, from 8:00 – 8:30PM I sit with my gay domestic partner and de facto life coach talking about ways to be easy breezy. Once I leave home, however, I’m left to my own self-sabotaging zapper devices.

8:30 PM – I leave home and head to the subway station. I make a decision and opt for the green lines.

8:40 PM – The train picks me up weaving through Southern Manhattan. This is taking forever. When I ride the yellow line, the first stop is practically in midtown. I guess I should just read my book and relax.

8:55 PM – I look up – wait that was my transfer at Canal. Oh no! I missed it. What’s the next stop? Union Square? Did this just turn into an Express train?

9:00 PM – Train arrives in Union Square.

9:01 PM – I switch to the downtown transfer, but the next train is in 9 minutes. No – that will not do. I’m pretty sure this is when I break a sweat.

9:03 PM – I run upstairs and text ChesterCopperpot. “Hey – running late – be there in 15 minutes.” Response, “OK, but I’m already here.” Swe%r wo*d!

9:08 PM – I realize that my chances of catching a cab in Union Square on a Friday night are worse than a Titanic’s fourth class passenger getting on a lift on a life raft. Miracle of all miracles, I get in a cab and head downtown.

9:20 PM – I’m about half way there when ChesterCopperpot texts, “Just meet me at [address].”

9:35 PM – I walk into his apartment and he is furious. I think it’s safe to tap out at this point.

Good game, everyone. E for effort. Let’s try again next week.

4 thoughts on “ChesterCopperpot

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