Karma is a bitch. Okay, I actually don’t know a lot about karma and I don’t really think it applies perfectly in this situation but no matter. My 2012 was kicking ass. I was having the best couple of weeks. Then, last night, I headed off for a date with the mystery hot girl I met but didn’t remember on Saturday. And… That’s when I got stood up. For the whole story, let’s rewind to Sunday.

Here I am at brunch, drinking a mimosa and texting this random number. Despite the table’s efforts to have me “get weird with it” since I didn’t know who I was talking to, I kept it reasonable. I told her my name and asked for hers. We both admitted to having no memory of the other. So, like any normal person, I told her we should have a “blind date” over mimosas.

This is how I figured out there was a hot girl on the other line. She told me she really wanted to know what I looked like before she agreed to this blind date. I agreed to swap photos and bam, hot girl picture.

My brunch mates were impressed. Some were skeptical of the “MySpace” angle of the photo. Others were skeptical of her gayness. But we all knew: she was hot.

I verified that she did, indeed, like girls and I continued my texting. Turns out she didn’t want a mimosa that day because she was at brunch already trying to stomach a bloody Mary but vomiting “every 5 minutes.”

This might turn some people off but we had met mutually blacked out so there’s no surprise there.

I finally try to tell her again that we should meet and suggest Thursday. No response.

On Monday, I got a new, awesome job. I was and am pumped. Here begins my top of the world feeling that will crash down in a couple of paragraphs.

I waited until Tuesday to give it another try. I started a text conversation and learned she is a 22 year old UW student who aspires to be a publicist. At this point a coworker decides to try to look her up online. A quick Google search reveals her model profile. It’s like MySpace for aspiring models. Fitting. She calls me over to her desk and I stare in disbelief as she compares the photo sent to me on Sunday with the photos in her portfolio. Yep. Model.

The texting continued throughout the day but I could tell she was still skeptical of this rando (me). So, now knowing I know more about her than she does about me, I send her here, to this blog. I reveal a lot about myself and there are lots of photos of me (like seriously, have you checked out the one in the About Kim section? Pure gold). I figured she could see me as an actual person and if she didn’t like what she saw or read then I really shouldn’t be going on a date with her anyway.

She reads a couple posts and compliments me on my writing. I make some smart ass comment about how she obviously wants to be my friend now (because I’m awesome) and she responds “What makes you think I’d want to be your friend?”

Reading that, I knew it could be taken in two ways. One way, she was being super bitchy and in the other, she could be flirting. I mushed onward, as I do, and my response rocked if I do say so myself.

“If you exclude the slightly serendipitous random phone number exchange despite the fact that neither of us remember – I give myself a solid “intriguing” in this situation. Plus, I’m cute and funny.”

Boom! She agrees I’m intriguing and just requests that she see me again before she “decides.” We set up to go to sushi Thursday evening.

With my date confirmed, word started to spread (by me) that I was going on a date with hot girl / model. I took it upon myself to tell anyone who would listen about my new job and my date. I passed around the link to her model page like candy. I welcomed the looks of disbelief at my story because I, myself, didn’t believe it. All I knew was that I was having an awesome week and loving every second of it.

Thursday came around and I woke up 30 minutes early to prep for the date that was immediately following work. I let my housemate put on a bit of makeup and straighten my hair – two things I never do myself. I figured I had to look like I put some effort into my appearance. I think I look awesome every day, but the world has different standards of beauty for women that require something called bronzer and mascara.

I texted her at 1pm to confirm that we were still on for our date that evening. No response. Being the type of person who assumes the best in people, I decided that I would still go and just text her again when I was on the way to the restaurant. That was at 4:30 for our 5pm date. No response. I arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes early and sat at the front for 30 minutes, giving her a 15 minutes grace period before I gave her a call to see where she was. No response.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been stood up before, but it’s not a great feeling. Not only did I waste a whole lot of my time (I want my thirty minutes of sleep back!), but you generally feel pretty bad about yourself. Life, very quickly, brought me down from the clouds. No, 2012 won’t be a perfect year of triumphs – I shall falter and terrible things can happen.

As I waited in the restaurant for Eric to come rescue me from this depressing situation, I just sat there feeling bad about myself. Because at the time, you aren’t rational; you just feel unwanted.

But I have to realize that her standing me up wasn’t about me. She doesn’t know me at all. She knows that I’m 25, I got a new job, I’m gay, I drink and I am a good writer (duh). That’s not Kim Wetter. I am obviously so much more than that. And I am worth so much more than that.

And why would I want to go out with someone who could do that to a person? Why would I care about some girl I don’t know and who doesn’t know me? Some people might say she was out of my league but it really depends on how you qualify your leagues. If you base it purely off of looks, sure. If you factor in that I’m older, successful, kind hearted, witty, and awesome – I’m most likely out of her league.

And maybe I’m not. Maybe she’s awesome yet extremely wounded from a previous relationship or she is cripplingly self-conscious but would never admit it or maybe she came down with the swine flu or maybe she dropped her phone in a glass of V8 and couldn’t call (Thanks Schwak!) or maybe she read my story of being face-raped by a cougar and lost interest. I will never know and I’m not the type to hate people in general, let alone someone I don’t know.

So Model Girl, good luck in life. I honestly hope you aren’t the type of person who would maliciously cause this pain in someone. I hope you find that special someone you’re looking for. I know I will one day.

(If you are curious – Eric picked me up and we drank a lot of tequila. I convinced him and Chris and Lee to go with me to the Wildrose so that I could hit on other girls. Little did we know, it was “open mic” night which means people read poetry. That might’ve been the most depressing part of my day despite being stood up. We left very quickly and all decided I should attend the next open mic night and just perform “Lose Yourself” by Eminem in beat poetry style. Prepare yourselves for that awesomeness. Yes, I’m hungover today and yes, I already feel awesome about myself again. I’m Kim Wetter.)