The Case of the Kissing Girl

Will she stay or will she go?

This tale is one of voyeurism. I, Raz, witnessed a stranger’s awkward experience with a man and decided to share. This was also an awkward experience for me. Here’s why:

For being the biggest city in the US, NYC is mighty small. OK, I’ve already written about spotting Dave multiple times on the street here. And I’m happy to report that I haven’t run into him since. Third time’s a charm. But, then, last Saturday night, another sighting happened. I was barhopping with my friend Jen at around 1am in the east 50s. We walked into Traffic and went upstairs. Who do I spot in a passionate embrace at the top of the steps? Tom, the fellow I met out who ended up being so awkward and boring on our date that he sent me running! (Read the full story here—my very first blog!) Tom didn’t see me, so I pulled Jen off to a corner to point out who he was and tell her my tale.

He hadn’t recognized me the first time we went on a date, so what were the chances he’d recognize me now, months later? Better safe than sorry. I kept my back to him, but we decided to stick around. Jen and I sat at a table in the corner on the opposite side of the bar, but we still had a clear view of Tom and his girl, who was now apparently not so fond of him and was shaking her head and walking away. Then, with a clumsy stroke of his arm, he grabbed her and they were making out again. Clearly, this chick could not make up her mind as to whether she wanted him. Suddenly, she ducked out of his grasp and ran clear to our side of the bar, and around a corner where he couldn’t see her. I’ve never seen a drunk girl in heels move so quickly! She started frantically texting, and Tom was left looking sad and confused. Where had his lady friend gone? He looked like a little kid who had just lost his mother at the supermarket. Just when I thought he would start whimpering, the girl peeked her head around the corner and he spotted her. He came running over—so close to where Jen and I were sitting! I faced the window so he wouldn’t spot me. But Jen made me turn around to look, because the make out session that followed was the kind that should only be done behind closed doors or in a really bad porno. (So many tongues! And, ouch, that bite looked painful.)  It was like a car wreck—we couldn’t look away. And they were too close to us now, so I didn’t think we could sneak away without him seeing me. We were stuck, and no matter how hard we tried to discuss other things, our eyes kept being drawn to this disgusting kiss.

They finally got up to leave. Phew! She ran in front of him while he stopped to high five his friends. Classy. But suddenly she had gone missing again. Poor Tom looked frantic, and his friends were loving it. Thank goodness he found her on the way out. From our window seat, we could even watch them out on the street. She wanted to go with him. No she didn’t. Yes she did. No she didn’t. The suspense was killing us. Secretly, I was hoping that she’d lose him for good so I could track her down and get the full story out of her for this blog. But by the time the bar closed—and we were kicked out of our awesome hideout—she still hadn’t made up her mind, and we didn’t see them on our way out.

If you’re judging me for spending the end of a Saturday night stalking an ex-date, stop it. We had fun doing it, and he was none-the-wiser. Plus, I learned that I would make an excellent spy.

—Raz, 25, NYC