Jack's Preamble

I asked around about Friend of Harvey, forever known as Jack, at the lingerie party:

"Oh Sarah, he's so hilarious."

"He is such a great guy. Truly a nice guy."

"He's the most interesting person I've met. And I don't mean interesting in a bad way. He's so smart and genuinely interesting to talk to." (male perspective)

Everyone had such great things to say about him that I became nervous: this nice, intelligent, and funny guy wanted to go out with me. The girl who yaks in bushes. The one who posts pictures of herself with her finger up her nose on the Internet. The one who makes incredibly bad decisions when it comes to men.

What if he didn't like me? What if he saw me and decided he wasn't attracted? I've been in such a rut that I don't know how I would handle that right now. He is my first date this year.

Then during a phone conversation I found out something about him. Three days after asking me out, he went out of town with another girl. He took her to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. I can't be upset with him over something he did before we met, but I just know that I would be really hurt if the boy I'm sleeping with is planning dates with someone else before taking me out of the state. Leaving the state on vacation spells commitment. It was a huge red flag for me to learn this.

He argued that they met mutual friends in New Orleans and that there really was no commitment between them because they only met once before.

What? You mean to tell me you spent seven hours locked in a six by ten-foot box on wheels with someone you met exactly once?

"That's like driving someone to the airport!"

"Is that bad? Because I did that too."

I groaned.

Saturday night I told the story to Harvey, who did not know about the other girl. "I agree," she said. "Going out of town is a big deal. But I honestly think he just didn't know any better. I mean, he's not even on speaking terms with her. But if you don't want to go out with him anymore, I completely understand."

"No, I'll meet him."

I didn't really have a choice; he was on his way to meet up with us. And I was quite drunk.

But a whole lot less nervous.