Saturday, September 08, 2007


As you might have guessed, I had a date on Thursday night with the guy featured in scenario #2 earlier this week. He is young (too damn young), smart and friendly and has quite possibly the worst haircut I've ever seen on someone over the age of 10. He is the kind of guy I should pursue (except for the too young part, the bad hair is resolvable) and I seriously wish I could work up some enthusiasm for him. Eh, I'd happily go out with him again but I don't see much happening. Yet, somehow, I'm kind of wishing for him to prove me wrong. C'mon scenario #2 boy, wow me!

On my walk home from the date, the location of which was chosen (by me) for my convenience, I walked right past the bar where Kansas hangs out. In fact, he was there, sitting outside, engaged in conversation with someone. I tried to catch his eye as I walked by but I didn't slow down or stop or say hello. I thought, "It's only 9:30 and he's already too drunk to notice me." (Hmm, that means my date lasted for two hours. Damn.)

Not satisfied with our near miss, I called Kansas as I continued walking home. I thought it would be amusing to give him a hard time about not seeing me. I also thought there was a good chance he wouldn't answer. In fact, he didn't answer. I was relieved and continued walking home.

At home, I made some popcorn and settled down for a little tv and blog reading. At 11:30pm, Kansas called. Yes, yes, I answered the phone and we talked for about half an hour. No, no, you do not need to tell me how stupid it is to engage with him. But, damn, this whole being grateful for being single is not as easy as it looks. Sometimes, I need to know I'm desired. Kansas is the only person I know from whom I can get that. He is the safest person to call right now. Evidence of my intentions? I told him about my date and then said, "What's crazy is that he's a good guy, available, emotionally available, smart, friendly—everything I should want. And, you, you're USELESS, completely unavailable, you'll never be my boyfriend, you don't want to be in a relationship with me, and I still don't like him as much as I like you." Think I'm kidding? Nope. I actually made that mini-speech at 11:30 pm to a very drunk man over the telephone. (Sadly, I was not drunk. One beer is no excuse.) His reaction? "Thanks. If you keep talking like that, I'm getting in a cab and coming over." I said, "You are not invited. I won't let you in." We're the best non-couple ever! I told him not to call me after 11pm but it's probably time to start silencing the phone at night again. Dammit.

Date-inspired thinking
You'll probably be astonished to hear that on my date, I did a lot of talking. He talked, don't get me wrong. I even asked questions. I'm so good! Still, I talked on many a tangent, mostly ex-bf related (some things never change). I didn't care because I love, love, love telling my stories and it was nice to finally be able to refer to the last ex (Owen) in a flip, comical way. Like, wasn't it hilarious that he didn't manage to buy me a holiday present? And wasn't it darling that when he broke up with me he said I'd been reasonable and right all along? Delightful!

Anyway, one of the offhand things I said was that I've always assumed that, for a woman, a PhD is a dating deficit rather than an asset. My date disagreed, though it seemed to come as a surprise to him that I actually had a PhD. He proceeded to tell me that he and his friends only ever dated intelligent women. Oh dear. Please don't confuse having a PhD with intelligence! I said I'd never dated someone with a PhD. Well, except Tom, my grad school boyfriend who has a PhD now, but didn't back we were together. I then told my date that I've even dated a couple of guys who (gasp!) hadn't graduated from college. So, if I say I'm not a snob, you can believe me. Until I tell you that I'm a complete snob because when I found out my date went to U of Chicago, my opinion of him rose appreciably. Sigh.

Work-out burn-out
I have been so good about the working out. Most excellent! My reward, the fancy iPod speakers, arrived on Monday. (They cost less than $100--so not cheap, but hardly the fanciest ones out there.) I didn't open the box until Tuesday and I still haven't used them. I may try them out this weekend, but I haven't decided.

I went to the gym on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I did cardio and weights each visit. On Thursday, though, I had to cut the work out short because I started to feel faint. Seriously. I knew I had to eat right away. I was shaking and clumsy. Under other circumstances, I would have skipped the shower and dashed up to my office to eat the bag of Fritos (yikes) I had stashed for my after-work-out snack. Since I had the impending date, I methodically got myself into the shower and back into street clothes before getting my snack. Man, did I feel lousy. The snack helped (though I had to purchase more vending machine goodness before I felt back to normal). I don't know what the problem was. I've been eating just fine and, actually, a bit more than normal do to the extra exercise. Friday, I was determined to go to the gym, especially because I was feeling less sore and tired than any other day this week. But as the hour of gym doom approached, I wasn't so sure. What about a brisk two-mile walk home instead? I'll let the readers judge: do I still "deserve" my prize? Keep in mind, I have soccer on Saturday and swing dancing on Sunday, so it won't be the laziest weekend ever (though I do plan to be completely lazy the rest of the time).

Update: I was going to walk home with TR but he forgot he had his car so instead he gave me a ride home. I've played soccer today and I think it's best I didn't work out on Friday, though the walk would've been fine. I hope you agree that I still deserve my reward--contingent, of course, on putting in at least four gym days next week.

Grateful for: activity.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Anonymous comments will be rejected. You don't have to use your real name, just A name. No URL is required; enter your name and leave the 'url' line blank. Thank you.