Slightly Stalky

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Wednesday Night Dart Night. Single and in my early thirties, a friend who had experienced my competitive nature and lived to tell the tale suggested dart league at the local Irish pub could be a fun place to meet men. While I did love the idea of throwing sharp pointy things, I remained dubious. Meeting men in a bar sounded so...meeting men in a bar. But I was tired of drinking café lattes at Starbucks alone with a good book while not-so-secretly trolling for sensitive types. (Sorry, “girl alone with book at Starbucks,” we all know what you’re doing).

I agreed to go.

From the moment I stepped into that bar, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I knew the tall, brown-haired guy talking to the blonde with the impossible tits was the one for me.

Him, or the guy in the back who looked like Pierce Brosnan. A soft spot in my heart for Remington Steele opened that small window of possibility.

Remington stood surrounded by an entourage of enraptured beta-men, spinning the tale of his latest conquest. His night of passion had ended with the girl requesting an escort home. He refused.

“But it’s dangerous out there!” she told him.

Remington opened the kitchen drawer, found a knife, handed it to her, mumbled “There you go” and shuffled back to bed.

The entourage erupted into laughter.

“Stranger Danger” bells ringing in my head, I removed Remington from the running.

The players gathered to pick Dart Night teams. Bribing the guy in charge to team me with The One proved impossible. On the upside, “Tits” had left the building. I heaved a sigh of relief. Against that girl, my breasts were like bringing marbles to an A-bomb fight. And we’re not talking Little Boy. We’re talking Fat Man.

Teamed with one of the better players (much to his chagrin) and not the object of my desire (much to my chagrin) I had a fantastic evening drinking vodka and sodas with a splash of cranberry. I tried to explain the irresistible pull of The One. Tall, clean, thin; he was definitely my type. He even had blue eyes and beguiling lips capped on one side by a hybrid dimple/laugh line. Sure, if I was going to build him like a car online, I probably would have thinned out his nose and sharpened his jaw, but that was getting really picky. He was also in his early thirties hanging out in a bar playing darts, but I couldn’t really complain too much about that thanks to the whole “glass houses” thing.