What can I tell you about my weekend? It was long, tiring and fun.
First, some business. A while ago, I submitted my site for review. It feels like a bit of hubris (?) to ask to be reviewed, but I was curious to get a new reader's opinion. The site makes a point of not pulling any punches so I was surprised, very surprised, at the extremely nice things that were said about the blog. Give the site a look and maybe volunteer to write a review and help some bloggers out. (Don't read about me, it's too embarrassing.)
Now, to the weekend. I talked to Owen on Thursday and we planned to meet Saturday at 1:00 and go the Freer. He'd never been and I like it fine, so it seemed like a good idea. It's worth a visit for the Peacock Room alone.
On Friday, I'd thought about going swing dancing because I'm feeling better (not perfect) and I haven't gone dancing in ages. I also had a work happy hour option. Pele expressed an interest in the happy hour so I decided to go to that. She met me there and we enjoyed talking to my co-workers (including Wayne). Pele had a nice connection to him and another woman due to a mutual love of the Steelers. Pele is not from Pittsburgh and the other two are, but she pointed out that neither asked her why she was a fan (even after she said she was from North Carolina). Steelers fans figure everyone loves the Steelers. Hey, I do too--unless they are smacking Seattle in the Superbowl.
After happy hour, Pele gave me a ride home. We sat and talked in the car for a while, as is our wont. Usually, one of us talks about an issue and the other gives feedback. This time, we both had (boy) issues to talk about and we traded stories back and forth. It's been a while since we were both dating at the same time...and there is a lot to tell, especially since we don't see each other as often.
I woke up on Saturday in time to make it to yoga at 9am. The class was a lot of stretching, but I needed it and it felt good (mostly). I need to do the yoga thing more consistently. After yoga, I stopped by the farmer's market near my house. I got some vegetables and bread. I hadn't seen the bread guy in a while and he said, "We've missed you! Where have you been?"
"Oh, just busy. Busy."
"Busy, that doesn't sound good."
"Well, social busy, not work busy." I said.
"Ah. So it's good."
"Yes, it is." For once, I didn't feel like flirting with the friendly, married bread guy and I headed home.
Around 11am, Owen called. "I'm running late and they're doing some track work on the metro...can we meet at 2pm instead?"
"Sure, no problem."
"See, I am good at this!" He said.
"You rock. You are awesome!" We laughed and got off the phone.
I puttered around, doing laundry and watching DVDs. I ate some breakfast (a banana/strawberry/yogurt smoothie and bread). I thought I'd leave at 1pm and walk to the museum. I let the time get away from me, as I seem to do often, and it was 1:40 when I left the house and I knew I would be late--even if the buses cooperated. I sent Owen a text, "I'll be about ten min late." I was right.
(Later, Owen said, "I was worried you'd be upset when I called and rescheduled." I said, "Really? Nah, it was no big deal. Anyway, I was the one who ended up being late." He said, "I know. That was awesome.")
When I first saw him, I was a little nervous. Last week was a bit of an emotional roller coaster for me. And I don't like roller coasters. All week I was saying to myself, "you just have to ride it out." That thought was comforting. Even before I heard from Owen on Wednesday, I'd regained some perspective. Knowing that there are potentially other options didn't hurt. When I start dating someone who I really like, I can get a little gloomy. I start to feel sure I'll screw things up and end up all alone. It's silly to think that way because I was (relatively) perfectly happy being alone. Damn, wasn't I planning to take a break from dating when I met Owen? Ok. So, when I thought about it, I didn't doubt that Owen would get in touch. I never doubted that I liked him. I never thought I wanted to date someone else.
When I saw Owen, I was happy, but not overly excited. I wondered what would happen. We would talk, that's for sure. We went into the museum and looked at the displays, with a few quiet comments exchanged. It's how I like to see a museum and I was pleased. He was in a good mood, but not very chatty.
After we had our fill of the Freer, we went to the Hirshhorn sculpture garden and looked at the Calder for a while. We started to get hungry and I suggested we go to Teaism for a bite to eat. After that, we walked over E Street to see what was playing. All along, we chatted and goofed and enjoyed ourselves. On the way to E Street, Owen started play-boxing with me (for no reason that I can think of) and I couldn't stop laughing. I said, "What are you doing?" He said, "I am the greatest!" (Which is particularly amusing coming from a very tall, very thin, very pale white guy.) He backed me up against some of the closed storefronts and a few passing pedestrians gave us concerned looks. I laughed all the more.
We got to the theater around 6pm and nothing was showing until 7pm. Owen said, "I was thinking about going to some parties or something later on...so this might be too late."
I said, "Ok. We can do something else. No problem." I thought, "What the heck is that about?" We walked up 11th street, aimlessly, and I said, "So, am I invited to these parties and stuff?"
"Well, I don't really know what's going on. But are you sure you want to go? Aren't you still sick?"
I pondered that for a moment, "You mean, you think I don't want to go because I'm sick?"
"Well, you say you're sick, and I know you're sick, but you don't seem sick. But maybe you need to rest?"
"Look, I'm feeling fine. Better, I think. It's just that I can't eat!" We laughed. "Look, I'd like to come out...I feel ok."
"Then you should come! Let's go back to my place...I'm meeting my roommate and we'll go from there."
We got on the train and headed to Arlington and Owen's place. We hung out, watching tv, mostly college football, until his roommate, "Barry," arrived. Then we watched more college football. My stomach was bothering me a bit (will this ever end?) so while the guys had brats, I asked Owen to make me some pasta. Ah, plain pasta--dinner of champions. They also knocked back a few beers but I only had a couple sips of Owen's. After a bunch of calling and texting by Barry our agenda was finally determined: The Big Hunt followed by Adams Morgan. And we were off.
We met a few people at The Big Hunt and stayed for one round, though I declined to drink. Owen laughed at me while everyone talked about how they were born in the '80s--with the exception of one woman who was born in 1978. She declared, "I'm a child of the seventies!" Owen gave me the raised eyebrow at that. I stayed silent, but I couldn't help a few eye rolls in Owen's direction.
After The Big Hunt, we went to Adams Morgan to meet a friend of Barry's at a rather upscale club. Owen and I were dressed in jeans and fleece jackets, almost guaranteeing that we couldn't get in. Plus, there was a line and a $10 cover. Call me crazy, but I'll never understand why one would pay a cover for the privilege of drinking. For a band, sure, but just to get in? We decided to skip it. We went across the way to Millie and Al's, probably the least pretentious place on 18th St. Barry got us the first round of drinks (he surprised me with something) and Owen got the second round. Barry was a little frustrated because he wanted to see his friend and he never did get a hold of him. We sat in the window, watching the crowds go by, and drank. Barry said, "I hate to be the third wheel..."
Owen said, "You're not the third wheel--Jamy's the third wheel!"
I said, "That's right! I'm the third wheel! Don't be crazy." Barry laughed and I thought it was hilarious.
Owen left to use the rest room and Barry asked if I were having a good time. "I sure am." He said, "Did you like that drink I got you before?"
"Yeah. Thanks for that."
"I figured I'd get the first round, then Owen would get the second..."
"And I'll get the third!" I said.
"No, well, I didn't mean...sure, you can get the third, if you want."
When Owen came back, I asked what he wanted and I went to the bar for the third round. You should have seen the looks on those two's faces when I came back with the drinks. It was as though a woman had never bought a drink for them before. They still paid for more of my drinks that night, but they appreciated the gesture. (I think I had a total of four alcoholic drinks and a coke, so I didn't come out too far ahead.) Around this time, a bunch of their other friends showed up and things got even livelier.
Barry looked at Owen and me and said, "This is good. I haven't really seen you two interact."
Looking at Owen, I said, "Well, we don't really interact that much." We both cracked up. I said, "You know, talking is really overrated."
Owen said, "Damn straight!"
A couple of very funny things happened in the line for the ladies room. The first was that a guy standing in the men's line, opposite me, introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Ryan."
"I'm Jamy." He was wearing an Ohio State sweatshirt so I said, "Your team did well today."
"We kicked some ass! So, you were watching college football?"
"Yep." And I gave him some highlights of the other games I saw.
Ryan said, "Who were you watching the games with?"
I said, "Um, with, uh, a couple of friends." I considered saying, "with my boyfriend." But, you know, I'm not ready to go there yet. (Later, I told told Owen the story and he said, "He wanted to know if you had a boyfriend." Heh.)
The other thing that happened was a woman "excused me" her way to the front of the line and no one stopped her. But someone in the back of the line notice and shouted to those of us closer to the front, "Did you just let her break in front of all of us? Not cool!" The woman in front of me said, "I'll say something to her when she comes out! I can't believe she did that." When the line breaker came out, the next woman in line accosted her and asked who she thought she was. I thought, "Let us take care of her and get in the stall!" The line moved slowly forward and the line breaker kept saying, "Do you know who I am?" I leaned towards her and said, "Who are you?"
She said, "If you don't know, then you can stand in line." Damn, bitch! She waltzed out as though she owned the place and our exchange rippled down the line. "No way she said that! 'You can wait in line'? Bitch!"
When I got back to my group, it was time to move to the next place. One (hopefully sober) fellow had driven and we piled in his car to go to Dupont. I was done drinking by then and only had a coke. I was asked to dance by a very drunk man and Owen encouraged me to accept. I did, the fellow spun me around a few times, and returned me to my stool. It was fun.
Owen also started talking to me in earnest. He said, "I've been thinking, it would cool if you could meet my mom. What are you doing in December?"
"In December? Well, I have to go to the West Coast at the end of the month, around New Year's, but that's it."
And he invited me home for Christmas. He said, "I was thinking about inviting you, but I just decided today."
"It was about the time you laughed when I was boxing with you this afternoon."
(The next day, I reminded him of this conversation and he slapped his head. "Oh, drunk Owen, what were you thinking?" I just laughed. "Don't worry about it." He said, "I was thinking about it...but I hadn't decided!")
Pretty soon after that, we headed to the metro with Barry. He went back to Arlington and Owen and I went back to my place. You might find this surprising, but it's not the first time Owen and I have spent the night together. It's not even the second time.
On the way to my place, Owen started talking. I learned some important things about his past relationships and more. He kept talking the rest of the night (morning?) and we didn't fall asleep until 4am. Unfortunately, I still woke up around 8am, not much later than on a work day.
Sunday was a haze, but it went something like: wake up, read, try and fail to go back to sleep. Shower, make tea. Drive the flexcar to Arlington with Owen and get breakfast (lunch, really). Spend as little time as possible buying a new DVD player (the old one broke). Amaze Owen with my speedy purchasing. Drive Owen home and go in to watch football for a while and fall asleep on the couch. Get covered with a blanket. Rouse myself by 6pm in order to drive home before dark. Get home, eat unhealthy dinner of fried chicken (so good) and go to sleep before 10pm.
It was one of the better weekends I've had in a while and that's saying something.
Grateful for: a great weekend.
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