I never liked rain. Sunshine? Snow? Thunderstorms? Yes.
Rain, freezing rain, anything with liquid precipitation, hell no.
And because the universe is constantly mocking me, I get drenched at least once a season. Most of the time, it’s my own damn fault. I wake up everyday and check the weather. If there’s a good chance of rain, I bring my umbrella. So why do I get soaked? Because I manage to lose the damn things wherever I go. I’ve left them on buses and subways, and hopefully they’ve gone on to serve their new owners better.
Then there’s my lucky umbrella.
My lucky umbrella is this garish bright purple thing it looks like a demented eggplant. But I’ve never lost that thing in two years, and whenever I carry it, I never wait for a subway, the barista gives me a free muffin, and all these little accumulations of luck has made it something that I actually remember. Two years is a record umbrella-wise for me and I had grown attached to the little bugger.
Of course, this is the story of how I lost my lucky umbrella.
So after the events of last week, I was determined not to be too shaken up. Dating is a confidence game. You can date who you believe you can date. After something like that happens to you, if you dwell on it, you get in your own head, and it’s over. So I figured after moping for a day or two to get back out there. Just leave the apartment and wander around. New York City in the fall is kind of great. It’s a bit chilly for the masses to wander out there, but if you throw on a blazer you can explore to your heart’s content.
I wanted to just clear my head, and I headed to speakeasy someone told me about. It had been cloudy all day, so grabbed my demented eggplant in case it started pouring. I got inside and grabbed a drink. Of course, all the way at the far end of the bar, is this stunning girl. Now, bars are not normally my scene, I don’t really drink, nor am I good at making small talk. Then we make eye contact. At this point, you’re at a fork in the road. If you make eye contact and then do nothing, you’re just that creep who stared at her. If you make eye contact and do something, well, you can still be a creep, but at least you have a shot.
As I have zero to no game at a bar, the most obvious solution for me wasn’t to go up to her. I asked for the bartender to send her another of whatever she was having, and I tipped generously. Somehow, that worked, and she came over. For the record, that’s probably the only smooth thing that I’ve ever done at bar. This was immediately counter-acted by her seeing that I was clutching a bright purple Totes umbrella.
Anyways, small talk ensued, names were exchanged, complaining about the weather, yada yada. She then brought up that she loved watching Game of Thrones. I asked her if she read the books. She said yes. I then launched into a 5 minute monologue about the fate of Jon Snow, corroborating with evidence from the TV series, snippets from George R.R. Martin, and recent photos from filming. Now, after rambling (which, as a reader you know I’m prone to do) I shut up for a second and realized how incredibly oafish that was. And then she launched into her own little tirade about how she thought I was wrong and the latest internet theories about how Snow was going to survive and not technically break his oath to the Watch.
Let me then tell you, that we spent another two hours talking about how much Superman sucks as a character, and how Batman is infinitely more interesting because he’s human. And how we were both obsessed with Jurassic Park as kids. And planetariums, how we both loved planetariums. If scientists somehow detected a tear in the space-time continuum, it was me that night high-fiving my 15 year old self. I was sitting at a bar, talking to this gorgeous girl about Game of Thrones, comic books, and dinosaurs.
Now, because of what happened before, I’m taking all of this with a grain of salt. I don’t want to allow myself to overthink it, to build it up in my head. That’s what I normally do when I meet someone who I connect with. By the time I walked back to my apartment, I was trying as hard as I could to keep a stupid grin off of my face. When I was untying my shoes, I realized something.
I had left my lucky umbrella at the bar.
Now, I know this sounds sappily reminiscent of ‘How I Met Your Mother’, but I swear, it’s completely true. I know most likely that she’s not going to show up with it in her hand, because that would just be too ridiculous. I’m a little sad that I lost something that brought me so much luck, but then I thought…
Well, this might just be the umbrella giving me all the luck it’s got.