Jason segal is dating
Still scarred by the ex run-in (they do that, even the long-forgotten childhood love kind) and invigorated by my tequila, I declare my desire for a nightcap and allow Jason Segel to accompany me out, bravely stomaching his friend’s ‘somebody’s getting lucky! We head over to the Leadbelly on Orchard street, where we sit at the bar and order more tequila.It’s a nice setup that lends itself to an existential conversation about life and freedom and travel, during which JS proudly declares his loyalty to New York. In fact, you think there is going to be somebody better out there, but what you are actually doing is running away from growing up.He takes my hand, kisses it and whispers, “You are so amazing. I just wish it could be me.” I kid you not there may have been tears in his eyes.
“A woman.” He sheepishly explains that he had been with his ex for six wonderful years, up until the point where she had expressed a desire to start a family. ” “Yes, of course.” “So what was wrong with your ex? I was just stupid,” he tells me, a guilty look on his face, similar to the one my dog Chloe gives me after peeing on the rug. There I am, at 2am and 4 tequilas deep, projecting the sins of douchebags past onto poor Jason Segel.
In case you, like me, don’t quite understand what this means, he’s referring to those signs that you see on the doors of Asian massage parlors, promoting reflexology treatments and the possibility of a happy ending.
I briefly wonder how many of them my new friend had tested out in person, then quickly remember that I write a blog called Dbag Dating, which legally prohibits from judging.
Our party is concentrated by the pool table, where I spot human kryptonite in the form of a tall, tattooed, man-bunned hipster strutting around with a pool stick and a very serious look on his face.
It’s one of those situations where I can probably spend all night swapping cool stats with him if I really want to, except that it’s a new year and I have resolved to grow a brain.