Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Close my eyes

My eyes hurt. I went to the eye doctor this morning for a regular check up and she gave me the dilation drops. Ouch. My pupils looked like saucers. It's been over five hours and I'm only about halfway back to normal, making this a singularly unproductive work day, even by my standards.

Since it's uncomfortable to focus on the computer screen or small print I can't do my job OR write for the blog. Bleh. (Reading extra large computer screen text is ok for short periods.) She must have given me the super-duper drops.

Do you ever find yourself mindlessly refreshing your email inbox hoping, hoping for something interesting to arrive? That's been me for the last few days. I don't know what I'm waiting for, but it's not happening.

The guy I met on Saturday who I liked never did call and, by now, I'm betting he never will. I'm disappointed because we hit it off and I had some mild yet extravagant hopes for him. Plus, he seemed truly taken by me so the non-call is particularly hard to understand. Maybe I was...(I have to pause for a few moments and close my eyes)...fooled by the slight similarity of our meeting to the way I met "the best boyfriend ever". BBE was also a cook (this guy is a "chef") and I met him in a vaguely seedy bar (like the Saturday bar) and our meeting was facilitated by his friend, which is sort of what happened on Saturday.

Eh. Different guy, different time, different place. Different ending. Still disappointing.

Really, the difference is mostly me. When I met the BBE, I was a VISTA volunteer, had no money and had just applied to grad school. Now I'm a career civil servant (which means I'm well paid), I have a PhD and I own a condo. And I have a cat. I'm still the same person, but the trappings have changed. I have to wonder if any of this played into the non-call. Mr. Saturday knows about the job and the PhD, but not the cat or the condo. Many people are uncomfortable with status differences, especially when the woman has the (perceived) higher status. This stuff doesn't bother me, or I never could have dated Owen, but it's out there. Or maybe I'm just trying to save face. Either way, he lost his nerve and didn't call. I'd call him, but it won't fix the problem. If you can't do what you say you're going to do (i.e. call me), I shouldn't be in such a hurry to ignore that either. Sigh.

Now I have to go rest my eyes again.

Grateful for: good health care.

Drop me a line.

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