WB: Electrical engineering. It was pretty hard. It's not like it was sociology. Jamy: Well, sociology isn't that easy. WB: Well some master's programs are easier than others. Jamy: I have a Ph.D. in sociology. WB: What! (Exhibiting signs of alarm and dismay.) Really. Oh no. Could I have said anything worse? Jamy: It's ok.
He continued to beat himself up about this offhand comment, claiming it was the worse possible thing he could have said. I told him to get over it since I was already was. He said it was just as bad as if I'd said that I thought that 6"1' tall guys with curly hair are stupid (he described himself). I said it wasn't like that at all. That lots of people thought that sociology was easy, and even though they were wrong, I wasn't offended. It takes more than that to offend me. We had a rather long discussion about why undergrad sociology courses were so lousy (easy). I said it was because to make complicated concepts accessible they had to be reduced to their most basic elements and then they seemed obvious. This actually turned into an interesting discussion about how complicated concepts (such as the theory of relativity) have become part of the everyday lexicon. Oh yes, we used the big words. WB drew attention to the fact that I was jumpy. He said he couldn't figure me out. He heard about half of what I said and decided that he could share some valuable insights to my character with me. I told him not to. He asked, "Are you easy to get along with?" I said, "That's not really for me to say." I told him that he really needed to judge for himself and that the question was too vague. He said, "Are you easy to get along with in a relationship?" I said, "I can be." I wanted to tell him to relax and stop trying so hard. To just let things flow. But I wasn't helping matters much. I asked myself, what about this guy? I thought, 'I don't know.' I asked myself, "Do you want to see him again? Yes. Do you want to kiss him? No." No, huh? That surprised me. Around the two-hour mark I was pretty hungry. I asked him if he wanted to get something to eat or call it a night. He said call it a night since he had a long drive home. At the metro, I was busy explaining an offhand comment I'd made. I'd said, "I never said I was nice." We got to the metro and WB said, "You just told me you're not a nice person."
"No, that's not what I said. I said I'm not always nice. I am a good person." "What?" This necessitated a rather lengthy explanation with examples. After I wrapped up he said, "I don't know how you want to end this." "End what?" "The date." "I don't know. Do you want a handshake?" "That would be an insult." I said, "You want to kiss me?" "Yes." I was surprised. I just didn't think he liked me that much. "Really. I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready for that." Nervousness levels skyrocketed. He said, "Well, just, come here." He put his hand on my shoulder and kissed me. I pulled away. "Not like that!" "That was a normal kiss." "No! That was too much. Too much. " "Why?" "I have moisture here, " I touched my lower lip, "definite moisture." "That is a normal by-product of kissing." "Your mouth was open! It's supposed to be…less…just a first kiss." "I'm sorry. Show me what you mean." I kissed him on the cheek. He said. "I see." He kissed me on the cheek. "Look, here's something that will make this easier." He got out of the car. I got out of the car. He hugged me. "That's right, your arms go here." I said, "I know what I’m doing."Who knows what he wants. More importantly, who knows what I want? Not me, that's for damn sure. But, what's new? Grateful for: a long, non-busy Saturday for once.