Titian watched me drown in the dating pool

Last night my roommate and I braved the MFA First Friday just to see what it's like in the winter vs. the summer. The answer? Crowded, energetic and a lot less predatory. Or at least predatory in a much more veiled way. There must have been 200 people crowded into two of the upper galleries, and the scene was totally on. All the women congregated in little clusters around the room, clutching their $6 drinks and watching as the men, who ran the gamut from 21 to 65, cruised around and tried to be subtle as they scanned the crowd. We all should have just started mooing and then the meat market metaphor would be complete.

Just to add a little drama, the whole scene took place under what must have been 45 enormous paintings by Titian, El Greco and a couple of other Italian, Spanish and French artists that added a certain je ne sais pas to the evening. Those paintings were a great conversation starter. I mean, how can you not discuss a painting of David holding Goliath's gigantic, bloody head, which happens to have the stone from David's sling embedded smack in the middle of its forehead? Or one of a dead St. Francis looking up at heaven with a terrified look on his face? Talk about icebreakers.

Then the unbelievable happened. I met a genuinely nice guy (my roommate concurred, so I'm not completely crazy). We stood there talking for a good hour and a half, and other than the fact that he's a sometime cyclist, no warning bells went off. We walked around the gallery and improvised a backstory for each work of art. I gave him and his friend a ride to their car because it was positively arctic outside. He had the guts to ask for my number. I hope he calls. Goddamn Swingers for making me wonder about the whole 6 day waiting period for calling a new person. I guess we'll see.