derecho (n): the world’s windiest cock block

Wouldn’t have been surprised to see this out my window.

Derecho. If you live in NYC, you probably know that word. Because a couple weeks ago, when the weather man decided there would be a derecho, everyone freaked out—then it wasn’t really that big of a deal. Anyway, according to Wikipedia (That’s a trusted source by most journalists, right?) a derecho is “a widespread, long-lived, straight-line windstorm that is associated with a fast-moving band of severe thunderstorms.” In other words, it’s a really loud, scary-looking storm.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. This story really begins about a week before the derecho. Many miles away, my awesome younger sister was out on a Friday night and met a boy. This boy was apparently pretty cute, so they got to talking. One thing led to another, and then I get this text: “I just met this guy, would you date his brother? He’s Jewish and he’s rich and he lives in your neighborhood and we’re going to set you guys up and then talk about it at your wedding. OK?”

Obviously, I said yes.

Later that night she texted again: “What happens if I accidentally hook up with his brother. Is that incest?”

I died a little, then told her to go for it. Apparently, she did no such thing. Instead the two of them planned out my entire evening with Jack (that’s big brother’s name). Before that night was over, he and I were each armed with phone numbers and photos of our future dates (he was cute), and a plan; we were to meet the next Thursday at 8:30pm at Cask.

Then came derecho. It was Thursday, and news of the storm was everywhere. I rushed home after work, and had just walked through my door when the thunder started. No rain yet, but I knew it was coming. The wind was some of the loudest I’d ever heard. I started getting ready for my date—and then realized how silly this was.

I had never even met this guy before and I was wandering out into the biggest storm in months just to have a cocktail with him.  I was sure that he was thinking the same thing. I thought, what’s the downside to rescheduling?

So I texted him: “So how would you feel about rescheduling for a day next week when there’s not a hurricane?”

His response: “Hm?”

I was stumped. In his defense, it was not a hurricane. It was a derecho. But I don’t think that’s what he was confused about. In fact, I couldn’t think of what he would be confused about. At this point the rain was coming down hard. I decided to clarify.

“How about Wednesday?” I asked.

His response: “Was it monsooning yesterday too?”

What I wanted to say: “First of all, it’s a derecho, not a monsoon. Second of all, obviously I’m not asking you to go out with me yesterday, you freaking idiot.”

Instead, I acted like a grown up and actually called him. Texts can be confusing, after all. (My texts, however, were crystal clear, but whatever.)

He was still confused over the phone. He said this was the last time in over a week that he’d be free, and he really didn’t know when he’d be able to go out again.

What I wanted to say: “OK, well then have a nice life.”

Instead, I said: “I guess we can still meet tonight.” Big mistake. Obviously, I didn’t want to meet during the derecho, and he knew that. He said he’d get back to me when his schedule cleared up.

Will I ever see Jack? Will we fall madly in love, and will our little siblings attend our weddings and make funny toasts about how we met? Stay tuned to find out (but I wouldn’t hold your breath).

—Raz, 25, NYC