Geeky programmers and fellow nerdy word-lovers, I am here to give you hope.

I can't say it any plainer than this: Web design got me laid.

Thank you, Danny Sullivan and your blessed SMX conference. If the inaugural one is any real indication, God knows I'll be a repeat customer.

With a nod to my old English and Journalism professors, here's a brief narrative reconstruction.

A Late Night Knock on My Door

The knock came at 2:37 am.
I was laying there wide awake, listening to the new Brand New on my iPod for about the 542nd time and going over my notes from the social media session, which included industry giant Rand Fishkin. Fifteen seconds into his opening, I decided to write down damn near every word he said, as well as commit myself to a lifetime of trying to get my hair to look that good.

I hopped off the hotel bed — from which offered an awesome view of Seattle, so thank you, my unnamed CEO, for the reimbursement — and tried to sprint casually to the door. My first thought, after peeking at the nightstand, was why the hell a $350-a-night room would provide a $9 alarm clock.
The second was this: She actually showed up.

How Did This Happen?

It's a pretty simple story. It's also served to renew my faith — being a kind of dorky, literature and Web-world-loving extrovert can pay off. Granted, it doesn't hurt we dorky computer-lovers also make a ton of money. But, still.

It all started when I decided to go to the SMX conference in Seattle. I'm relatively new to the SEO/design "scene," so I really don't know anyone. I figured I'd tag along to the conference with some other guys from my firm and try to meet some industry people. And after breaking up with my longtime girlfriend (and longtime filthy bitch) a few days before, I thought a trip to the coolest city in the Northwest (sorry, Portland) might do me some good.

After a few seminars, I started getting a little thirsty, so I headed back to the Fairmont for a drink. Sat down and ordered a scotch and soda.

Just as I finished my first swig, she appeared damn near out of nowhere.

Hanging at the Lobby Bar

Now, we've all made MILF jokes with our friends while out at a bar or the mall or the youth league soccer game or wherever. But most people, when the time comes, will just play it off as a joke.

One of the fringe benefits of conferences like this is the creative accounting a lot of companies tend to employ. Expense reports and tax write-offs, along with pure sexual tension, fuel the entire SEO industry, I swear to God. But, the beauty of those write-offs is that you might, say, bring along your wife, girlfriend or mistress for a little work-vacation on the company dime.

I didn't know if it was a birthday present or if there was something more sinister and dysfunctional going on, but someone actually brought their mom along for the ride.

So to speak.

A Nerd and a Good Looking Lady

This mature cougar was smoking hot. Smoking. I would later come to find out she's 45, but, at the time, I pegged her at about 30.

She plopped down on the seat next to me and ordered a dirty martini. Yup. A martini. Dirty.

She glanced over at my drink and shot me a weird look. The next thing I know, she's lecturing me about drinking scotch with soda. Apparently, the bubbles kill the taste. At first, I was thinking, "Lady, I only ordered this because it sounded cool and like something you should order in a Seattle hotel bar."

Instead, of course, I nodded, played dumb and acted incredibly interested in learning about a drink I'd probably never order again.

That's pretty much how it started.

What was so weird about the whole thing was, as soon as I told her why I was in town, her eyes got really big. It was like I said I was in Seattle running smack and Tech-9s.

She spent the next 30 minutes peppering me with questions about the industry: What it pays, why I do it, the usual crap. But just a few times, she kind of sneaked in an almost technical-sounding question that made it sound like she knew a bit more than she let on.

We spent another 45 minutes at the bar. I made sure my next drink was a scotch neat.

Conversation meandered to all the typical, small-talk crap. As it was winding down, the bartender came over with our tabs. I pulled out a business card, reached over and grabbed her check, putting the card in its place. I scribbled down my room number and gave her a god-awful, cheese-eating grin. You know the one.

The Naughty Details...

The details stay with me. You know what they say about the devil being in the details.

The devil was also in my room that night. Good God.

Let's just say, there's a lot to be said about finding a sexual Jedi master, if you will.

After it was all over, about four hours after that late-night knock on the hotel room door, she got dressed and ready to bolt.

Then, just before she left, and for whatever reason, she put the whole evening into context.

Turns out her 20-year-old son has been designing websites for the past five years. She's got a thing for one of his web designer friends who's still a year shy of legal drinking age. And she decided to swing over from a somewhat nearby and forever unnamed city in Washington state to meet up with her son in Seattle for a little bonding. Guess he doesn't make it home much from college.

Rather than alienate her son and trigger some social circle scandal by screwing one of his under-age friends, she got me instead. Guilt-free.

It totally explained why she kept calling me Scott all night.