Maybe it’s karma, but whenever my ex-boyfriend, D.D.*, shows up (unwanted) at one of my gigs, I meet guys. Last night, after my country band’s show, it was J.T.*, a fellow New Jerseyan from Tom’s River who was in town for a few days because he works for the food and wine division of a trade group and was here for an event. And, he was a total hottie: sleepy eyes, carefully groomed scruff of a beard, perfectly tousled hair, tall.

I occasionally write food articles, I edit the food industry section of a business website (among other things), we’d have plenty of things to talk about, right? But not long after he started talking to me after the music ended last night, I realized that he made fatal mistake #1.

FATAL MISTAKE #1: Don’t ask the girl anything about her.

I don’t even know how he found out that I was from New Jersey. I probably volunteered the information when I was asking him about himself.

Later, when my friend Jim came over to chat with us, thinking that we were old high school friends, I realized that J.T. made mistake #2.

FATAL MISTAKE #2: Interrupt the girl whenever she starts talking.

I don’t tolerate that. Period. As much as I might be inclined to smooch a hot Italian-looking guy from New York who’s clearly into food and wine and chooses to come see a country/bluegrass show when in another city, it’s not worth it if I can’t finish a sentence. So I collected my gear and got ready to leave.

“I want to see you again,” he said. “Can I have your number?”

“You’d better get a pen and paper quick, because this amp is heavy,” I said. He gallantly took my amp, grimaced subtly (it’s only about 30 lbs., which is light for an amp but heavy for an object), and placed it carefully on the ground. He took out his cell phone, asked me for my number, then showed it to me to make sure he’d gotten it right. He had. I said goodnight and left.

Today, he sent me a text.

.hey. .howru. 12:55 pm 4/22/08

I didn’t see it until about 7 pm. But it seemed clear to me that he’d made mistake #3.

FATAL MISTAKE #3: Forget the girl’s name (which, for the record, is not the fatal mistake), but don’t have the presence of mind to figure out other ways to find it.

BTW, he could have gotten my name if he’d had the guts to call me instead of texting, because I don’t answer my cell phone at work and my name is on my voicemail. So I texted him back.

If you can’t remember my name, why do you think I should call you back? 7:34 pm 4/22/08

To his credit, he almost immediately responded.

.i am bad with names. .but i guess u take it personal. . 7:36 pm 4/22/08

And then, about a half hour later:

.i put in my phone as – red – 8:01 pm 4/22/08

Red? I have brown hair, was wearing a black shirt, black skirt, and red boots. I was wearing a red coat as I walked out of the bar. I’m booked up this whole week anyway. But really, guys, the minimal effort you need to extend is remembering a girl’s name. If he forgot, there were plenty of my friends still hanging out in the bar. He could have made an effort to figure it out. And if you can’t do that, you don’t deserve a call back.

* As usual, names have been changed to protect whomever.