The Truth about Schmoozer

After a night out, Schmoozer's BF and I were sitting in his darkened car in his driveway. I had set him up with a girlfriend of mine from kickball and he had been giving me a play by play of the progression of the relationship. He states quite often that he isn't a good conversationalist and that he's awkward around women, but tonight, in his car, he's doing just fine. We talk easily. He confides things in me that he doesn't tell Schmoozer. People often scold me for introducing him as Schmoozer's friend, saying it's time for me to call him my friend. He is.

He retold me a story he had told me the previous day about a date with my friend. Maybe this is what he meant about not being a good conversationalist. Either way he obviously needs to talk about it so I sit quietly in his passenger seat and listen to the story for the second time, nodding and murmuring at the appropriate places.

He relaxed and leaned against the headrest, letting a sigh escape. He turned his head and looked at me, "You know you're worth more right? Your worth more than what you project."

I've taken a self-depricating, matter-of-fact approach to men lately. There  aren't any and I'm not looking. The girl who is always good for a dating story has none. People ask me for updates and I shrug. I'm shocked with how accepting I've been about it. I'm tired. I want someone to text goodnight to. I want someone to make sure I get home from the bars safely. I don't want to deal with a lot of mediocre dates and set-ups to get there.

"You sell yourself short with guys. You deserve $100 dinners instead of spending your first dates getting non-commital drinks," he continued. He spoke kindly, like a big brother would.

He chuckled at himself, deep in thought. "You know what Schmoozer's standard first date is? Beer and darts, and he splits the bill."

I furrowed my brow in the dark car. This seemed familiar to me. Why did this seem familiar to me?

Beer and darts.

It was what he proposed the first night we ever hung out. It was a date. I was right and wrong about that night all at the same time. We went out and seemingly had an easy time. He said my friend was cute and I was horrifed. We split the bill and I was even more horrifed. He unbuckled his seat belt to walk me to my door, but my own insecurities and fear of rejection had me dashing out of that car like my hair was on fire. And then to overcompensate, I placed him in the far depths of the friend zone.

By not paying for my two drinks, I didn't know his intentions. It set the basis for our entire friendship.

Let that be a lesson in manners.