Who: D (48, Virgo, well-known Grammy nominated sound engineer, hot as fuck, loaded, wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy out of my league, and what the fuck is he doing going on a date with me????!?!)

Where: Some swanky bar in Midtown filled with gross Businessmen drinking dirty martinis and eating bloody steaks.

Here’s an embarrassing secret- I actually like the movie “Pretty Woman” starring Julia Roberts as Vivian, a hooker with a heart of gold who meets, on the streets of LA, Edward, played Richard Geare- a loaded businessman who is secretly unhappy with his life. Edward runs into Vivian when he borrows his friends Ferrari but doesn’t know how to drive it properly. She offers to show him how to drive it and also offers her “services”- and the rest is history. They fall in love, She learns how to do fancy things like eat escargot and shop on Rodeo Drive. She also teaches him how to be a normal non-rich human being like walking on grass without shoes on, and enjoying bubble baths. They live happily ever after- Pretty convincing plot line right?

I’m a few minutes late to the date because I had to come straight after practice. It’s humid, so I’m sweaty- and my hair is a hot mess. I have no idea what to expect. D messaged me on Tinder out of the blue.

“I find female bass players super sexy.” he wrote, “Hi.. ;)” Just for the record, I am far, faaaaar from “sexy”, in fact, I am super lame, awkward, and weird.

D’s photo seemed innocuous enough, they seemed like old photos. He was cute- but not really my “type”. We messaged back in forth for a few days until we finally exchanged numbers. “My name is Dxxxx Fxxxxxxx” he texted, “Want to grab a drink tomorrow?”

Bingo! Let’s look him up Google! Hmmm- oh wait a minute… *sees current photo of him with salt and pepper hair* holy fucking shit!!! He is soooooooooo hot- Hello Daddy… wait a minute *clicks on an article about him* No!!!!! he’s famous?!?!? Multiple articles of him pop-up mentioning him working with top artists, and, wait a minute… he won a Grammy? Photos of him at the Grammy awards with a semi-famous Hollywood actress appear. I can’t go out with this guy. He is way out of my league- I’m a nobody.

I sit there staring at my computer screen.

I hate the fact that I think like this. I’ve struggled with major self-esteem issues all my life- and one would think, that at this age, I’d have a handle on it. I’m a lot better than I used to be, but it still feels like it’s always there- hovering over me like a grey cloud.

I sit up straight and text D back, “Sure! where would you like to meet and what time?”

It’s starting to rain, and I’m carrying some gear since I’m coming straight from band practice. D texted that he just parked the car. Wtf he drove here?? I’m waiting, and trying to psych myself out of being so nervous.

He’s just a normal person- True, he is a Grammy-award-winning person, but he shits just like the rest of us…except maybe on a toilet made of gold…in a house filled with Grammy awards.

I can feel my makeup sliding off my face from the humidity, so I turn to look at my reflection in the glass to try and fix it somehow.

“Hello L…”

I turned around, and I kid you not, I almost gasped from his gorgeousness. He was impeccably dressed in a button down shirt. Oh god! Business casual. I mournfully stared down looking at my outfit, black shift dress, denim jacket decorated with pins of my favorite punk bands, and motorcycle boots. God, I am so out of place.

“Hi!” responded shyly, clutching my bag filled with bass pedals.

I’m sitting at this fancy businessman bar eating, drinking, and shooting the shit with D. We’re talking music. I find out how he started out in the industry and how he started his own company. He seems really down-to-earth and you know what? He’s gentlemanly. He’s attentive, asking me if I want another drink or if I’m ok with the food. He even sits up when I go to the restroom and moves my chair over for me when I’m about to sit back down. Who does this nowadays???? I’ve only seen this done in “Pretty Woman”!!!!!!

Finally, we’re winding down. I’m surprisingly comfortable around him, so when he leans over for a kiss, I don’t hesitate. “Need a ride home?” He says.

Upper West Side, NYC:

I am on a balcony that is overlooking the Hudson River. Every room in this apartment is immaculate and stylishly decorated for a minimalist look. Obviously I am not home. To make a long story short, I hook up with D. But it’s weird, he’s almost too perfect- like he popped straight out from a Harlequin romance novel. I go out on a second date with him a week later and find him to be genuinely charming, though a bit anal and maybe a tad bit boring and too eager to please in bed. It’s almost as if he’s a bit submissive. Ugh another one. This world is seriously lacking doms.

I don’t hear from D for over a week and I write him off. It’s ok, his perfection just stresses me out anyways. Until one morning I get a text from him, “Hi baby girl… ready to get tied up now? ;)”

Oh shit. How’d he know?!?!??