Geoff, Jamie, Erin, and I just got back from an awesome bar in Wrigleyville and I have already forgotten the name. I can tell you it is at 1300 W Addision, the name starts with a G, the sign is reminisent of a British Pub, and they have 200 board games available to play. It is also notable because although it is only two or three blocks from Wrigley Field, it has not one peice of Cubs memorobilia.
We went and played one really awful game before a round of Scruples, where we found out that Geoff is much more a callous business man than a caring artist. He would not tell a sweet old lady that her house was undervalued and would target the opposing quarterbacks recent knee injury, if it meant winning the game.
We then upgraded our table from a proper two top to a four top, with room for six, and upgraded the game for a round of Cranium. Geoff and I won, even after being stuck on those word problems. grrrr. I was in full game zone by the end, coming up with answers like “snake oil” and “Porky Pig.” Really.
The spooky part of the night was that Ronnie was at the first table when I walked in. I had a HUGE crush on Ronnie a year and a half ago. HUGE. MAJOR. He is a wonderful writer and good friend and funny improviser and actor. Side note, he is also Isreali, which becomes important later in the story. The last time I talked to Ronnie was months ago (at least six) at the Wise Fool’s Pub at True Pilsner’s Birthday Party. I used to see him every Sunday night at Tequila Roadhouse. I went to his Second City graduation show a number of times. I ate El Presidente and vented about roommate problems at his condo.
And after careful consideration of all the men I know in Improv and in his social group, decided to take the plunge and tell him about the crush. I wrote a carefully worded email of John Hughes proportion (if he still made teen flicks, he would hope to write such a good, humble, funny, straight to the point, email like this.) I had a “humunuh, humunuh, humunuh” moment outside of the Starbucks with him, told him how I felt (pre-empting the email I’d sent earlier, thinking he’d already read it), and was on the polite receiving end of the mantra all men say to me. “You’re awesome, I like you, but not like that. I’m not looking for a relationship. etc, etc, etc.”
In my head I heard, well, I’m not sure what I heard. Thinking back and comparing notes with what Nate said, I think I might have been hearing, “Girl, you funny and you nice, but you big. You real big and I ain’t into big girls, o’kay.”
Anyway. Fast forward a year and a half and I walk into this bar that I’ve never heard of and there is Ronnie. And there is me, much more svelte than when we were friends. He can’t tell, though, becacuse I’m wearing my big ol’ neighborhoodie. We chat awkwardly and I move on to find a table for us to play board games on.
What I don’t mention is that yesterday I said to Cathy, “I think I will exclusively date Isreali Jewish men.” Why? Because they tend to be insanely attractive, very nice, smart, etc, etc. and I’ve only had good experiences with them–Udi, Assaf, and Chai all painted very good pictures. Granted, they are all post military raised in Isreal, Isreali Jews, but in chicago, you’ll take a first generation in the US.
Oh, and the other thing, which is that earlier today I was thinking of him and ran his name through google. Not in a stalker way, but to see if he has been up to anything newsworthy since we fizzled. Nothing really came up outside of some college stuff.
So, if you can figure out what this bar is, you should go and play board games. Pick carefully and make the table next to you jealous–because they are taking The Game of Life way too seriously and they really want your copy of Cranium.
Snake Oil.
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