Sherlock Holmes-ing...

SO - I threw the "I will let him do all of the pursuing" rational out the window yesterday...for just a little bit.  I mean, why not say hello and ask Cricket Phone guy how his week was going (via text of course)...after all, it totally makes my day when I get a random text from someone like that...and why not throw some good vibes out into the world and see what we get back?  Actually it was a much better conversation (okay text conversation) than the last one. 
I got to know this about him:  He has some kind of credit card processing company (whatever that is) and a General Contracting company - his guys go into areas hit by hail and such and fix the damage done to property.  (Well, at least he will totally understand my praying for natural disasters!!!)  We texted back and forth a bit about how we were kind of in the same industry (keep in mind this is about 11 or so AM and during business hours, phone conversation not so appropriate).  He enjoys mountain biking - actually a bit crazy about it - I assume its like Nat being crazy about hiking 14ers...I can totally deal with that - ESPECIALLY since mountain biking usually means that the guy is fit if not ripped.  I LIKE THAT THOUGHT.  Instantly had an image of trying to get a photo of him naked in my bed...(sorry)...
Ending about an hour or so of casual texting back and forth (not instantly responding to avoid the assumption of being over eager and too available of course) I get a text from Gretchie. 
"HOW OLD IS HE"...well, damn.  I was so stoked that I was talking to someone who liked extreme sports and was involved with two companies that I totally forgot to ask.

So, being the "detective" that I think I am and having a computer and full access to the Internet, I begin THE SEARCH (i.e. internet hunting going off the only two things I know about him, his first name and phone number.)  WELL, let me tell you, after trying attempts for a half hour on trying to do a reverse phone number look up and not getting anything for free, I broke down and paid $.99 (yes, 99 cents) to find out a little about this guy...like a last name.  (yes, it has dawned on me by this point to just ask him)  Gretchie was texting me I could pull a background check, etc for $14.95...(in fact SHOULD) since he was some stranger asking me for my number at some beer festival.  Point taken, but lets just see what this $.99 will get us. 

It got me a last name.  It got me the area of where he lives (ANOTHER Cap Hill Guy!! Dear Lord God enough already with the Cap Hill guys!!!)

Anyway!! We have a name and he lives in Denver.
Google, Facebook, LinkedIn...
NADA. 
WTF??
EVERYONE can be found.  Can't they?
More searching.  I'm seriously sucked in by this point and Gretchies texts by this point aren't helping curb the intense focused Internet Sherlock Holmes-ing that's going on at this point...(its about 4 pm by now)
AH-HA!  PHOTO!!!  (So at what point are you considered crazy??)
um...dorky photo...and...wait...he's a sales guy for a roofing company.

Well doesn't this just suck.  In my industry roofing salesmen are pariah.  Well.  Alright then...no need to dig anymore about this one...if he asks me out that will be nice.  No sense in turning down a free dinner and possibly drinks.  Especially if he's as cute as I think I remember he is...I am after all a HUGE sucker for blue eyes...wouldn't hurt to take him to a place where one of GC's friends works.  (HEY - I'm at least allowed to be bitter enough to want his friends to tell him they saw me out with some guy - and this guy sure as hell cannot be UGLY!!)
By 5 pm I was exhausted.  Sherlock Holmes-ing, not being able to sleep the night before because the kids in the building decided to throw a 2am party made me nauseous exhausted. Not only exhausted but apparently yelling, screaming and cheering as loud and often as I was at that baseball game is like an intense ab workout.  My lower, middle and upper (if there is such a thing) abs all hurt when I breathe.  My ribs hurt.  I think this is the funniest thing ever...(I now have more of a purpose to scream and yell for my favorite teams.)

I decided that I would make it an early night, do the tanning cocktail and xanax myself so I actually slept through the night. 
Usually when I xanax myself I don't dream, at least I don't remember I dream.  Last night I remember dreaming that I forgot all of my clothes for my trip to Crested Butte this weekend and all I had in my bag were my hiking boots.  I'm not even going to try to think about what that dream means...it probably means I shouldn't be going on this trip to Crested Butte and I should be going hiking with Nat...but yeah...Pikes Peak and a 13 mile hike straight UP? 
HA! HAhaahaaa...