and my big night.
I'm posting from Seattle, which is great. I do love it here. I almost forget how much when I'm away. It's too soon to be homesick for DC so I'm just enjoying the cloudy skies, the cool weather and the abundance of high-quality coffee.
Let's go back in time to Saturday. I did not make it to soccer. Lame, I know. I wasn't packed, I'd been up until 3am and it wasn't happening. (To my credit, I did pay the gym in my mom's building a visit on Sunday. I know, awesome.)
On Saturday, the exterminator came around 11am and in between explaining Reform Judaism, Yom Kippur and letting him into the basement, Miss Tabitha (the cat) decided it was a good time to go exploring. She rushed past me out the back gate and I let her roam free for a while. When I tried to find her, I saw that she'd gotten into the locked up back yard of our neighbors where I could not follow. (I would have had to crawl under our back under the house space to under their back porch and then…how would I crawl back to my yard holding a hissing, pissed off cat?)
I called and cajoled and she looked at me through the fence and cried. One of the neighborhood cats stood nearby and I turned to her and said, "Can you help her out?" She didn't answer.
I gave up and went back in the house and continued to pack, sort and organize. I took a shower. I went back outside and Tabby was in back in the yard. I scooped her up and carried her crying into the house. Maybe I should let her out more? She sure likes it and always seems to come back…still, fetching her is a serious pain.
I had to make a trip to the office since I'd left my iPod there. Good planning! I went to the gym on Friday and managed to leave it in my gym bag. I must say, I did ok on the gym this week. Mon, Tues and Friday. I like that I went back on Friday when it would have been so easy to skip. I don't like that I skipped soccer on Saturday, but even if I'd gone to bed at a reasonable hour, considering my lack of preparation, it wasn't a great idea. Well, it was a great idea; it just wasn't practical.
I did take some pics of the packing "process" as it were. Again, I wonder, is this of interest to anyone? I brought rather more clothing on this trip than usual. Not only because of the length more because of the likely variable weather. Cool in Seattle to hot in Arkansas. I've got my waterproof parka, wool long johns, heavy wool shirt, a few tank tops, long pants, short pants, and shorts. No skirts, fancy shirts or nice shoes. Just lots of comfortable, practical clothing. The shoe choices are hilarious: hiking boots, ugly red shoes and sneakers. Oh, and a pair of slides for shower-going in campgrounds. I normally only wear black shoes and yet, not a single pair made it on this trip.
Why was I up so late? As planned, I went to Pele's after work. She picked me up. We headed to her place. A few people were coming over later, but we decided to have a small dinner of pupusas first. Before we went for the pupusas, I called the Spanish lessons guy. I'd been putting it off all week. I was hoping he wouldn't answer and I could leave a message and I got my wish. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was him, of course, but I didn't answer. I was glad he called back but I wasn't excited or overwhelmed. He left rather a long message and said he'd call later. I let him.
Ah, the message. When I first listened to the message, I only heard the first part, which made reference to Spanish lessons! On second listen, I heard the rest of the message, where he thanked me several times for calling and said he was on his way to a gig, and he'd call me later.
I got home around 11pm and soon after, he called. We talked and he's funny and I like him. He says, "When am I going to see you again?" I say, "Yeah, um, well, not for a while…" And I explain about my trip and we talk about that for a while and he tells me he's going to Mexico (home) in December. Then the connection drops.
He calls back and uses the tone I expect when someone is ending a conversation. Instead, he says, "I'm very near you. I'll drop by and see you."
"What is your street?"
I tell him and, not long after, he arrives.
He carries in his guitar and I get a short hug and kiss on the cheek when he comes in. I get him some water and we sit far apart on the sofa and talk and talk and talk. I like that. He tells some really bad jokes, which I'm not crazy about. He pulls out the guitar and asks me if I sing. I say yes, I used to sing in the glee club.
"What kind of music?"
"Why don't you do it any more? You don't like it?"
"Oh, I liked it but it takes a lot of time."
He pulls out a huge binder full of songs--a big compendium of lyrics that he's assembled from here and there. Mostly they don't have music, which I ask him about. "I don't need it for most of them." Then he says, "You'll sing. Pick a song."
I demur but he persists. He starts playing a song I don't know then a song I do know. When it's time to start singing I sit silent. "C'mon!" He says, "You know the words."
"I do…but I can't. I'm too shy." I remember back in Chapel Hill, a friend of mine had a bunch of people over to make music. They all brought instruments. She was a devoted guitar player and quite good. I figured I'd sing along--and I did. But I didn't have to sing alone, one person watching me who I barely knew.
I love the idea of singing together. Or even singing while someone else plays guitar. I enjoy singing. I grew up singing with my parents, when my mom played her guitar, with all the records they had. I know the words to many a musical. But, I couldn't do it. He tried several songs and each time, I sat, silent, until he finally gave up and put the guitar away. Kind of sad.
It was strange. I wanted to sing but I couldn't sing. I think it was kind of sweet that he wanted me to sing. I was worried about not singing well. After all, this is someone whose profession is music. Then again, I'm a fine (if not great) singer, so what's the problem? It was just too much, too intimate. As I said to him, "I was never a soloist!"
Not too long after that, he got ready to go since it was 2am or so. 2am! What the fuck? We'd been doing a little couch shifting but never really got close and that was fine with me. I liked him but the whole situation was so unexpected. I didn't need him making passes at me and having to figure that out too.
He stood up to say goodbye and asked for my email and said he'd be in touch. Then he gave me a full hug, which was good. And then a little peck on the lips, which was also fine. Then another kiss as I moved him towards the door. Then, in the hallway, he wanted more kisses and I said "no" and he said "don't be scared" which I think is a pretty ridiculous thing to say to anyone over the age of 15 who's ever been kissed. I just smiled, though, and said no again and that I was glad he came over and sent him on his way.
On Saturday, SL sent me email. He said he had a good time and that I was quite funny. And he apologized for the "extra" kisses.
I don't think I've even gotten "funny" as a compliment in this kind of dating situation. I like it! I think I'm hilarious and if a guy likes my humor, that is great. (His humor I didn't always like--but some of it was good and had me laughing.)
And the extra kisses? That's unintentionally funny because it implies that there was some normal amount of agreed upon kisses and he went for extra…innings? Penalty time? Maybe I got a penalty for not singing so extra kisses came due? Ha ha!
I've now told the story to Mom and Audrey (and in brief, to Pele). Mom thought he was searching for intimacy and may or may not be for real Audrey thought he was doing what he thought a generic girl would want. Interesting takes. I say he likes me and he's quirky. I like him but I'm not sure how much. I don't get a lot of pleasure out of unreciprocated attention, so there's some mutuality here. Enough for a "real" relationship? Who knows? Who cares? It's fun and I'm on vacation (sort of) and it's nice to have something to look forward to when I get back. That's about as far as it goes for now.
Grateful for: Seattle, possibilities.