2006-04-01 - 2:15 p.m.
It's raining, so I think about boys
It just started pouring. Like, a deluge or something. And I’m tucked cozily inside, which is lovely. It was a beautiful but muggy morning, and I was afraid I’d be wasting it by staying inside and cleaning. But, it seems, my choice has been validated, right? It’s nasty out and I’m inside, but that’s OK because my apartment is sparkling and my laundry is done. I smell a little like bleach. The fridge and cabinets are stocked, because I stopped at the grocery store on my way back from the podiatrist. My sheets have been changed. Life is good.
This weekend might be a tricky one. Or an uneventful one, depending on what ends up happening. You see, I’m stuck in one of those strange limbos that only single women (or maybe married women who cheat) experience. I had a really, REALLY nice date with a guy last week. Yes, a first date. A blind first date. And it ended up being great. He’s an interesting guy, very intelligent, good-looking, polite, has a lot to talk about. And he complimented me. I have been so starved for compliments these last couple of months. So I decided I wanted to see him again. Aaaaaand… I thought he might want to see me again.
So why didn’t he caaaaaalllllll? This is the part of dating that sucks. It sucks HARD. For me, it’s the feeling of being powerless and unable to control the events of my own life. And I hate playing girly games. So I waited. And while I waited, I fell into a pit of absolute misery. No kidding. It was the worst I’d felt about myself in a very long time. I kind of decided that since he complimented me and we had such a nice time, it must have been because I was so fat and ugly he didn’t want to be seen with me, much less fuck me, which I decided he figured he’d have to do at some point so he might as well just not call so he could avoid the question ever coming up.
Yeah. I’m normal.
I hid the misery under a veil of, “I’m not feeling well, and I always get depressed before I get sick,” and I think that kept a lot of the questioning at bay, but it still sucked. I hate crying at work, and that’s what I ended up doing. Quietly. To myself. In the bathroom. Pretty freakin’ pathetic.
So I said, “You know what? I’m not going to play this stupid game. I’m going to email this jackass, and if he doesn’t respond, then he’s REALLY an asshole.” So I did. And he emailed me back. But he claims he didn’t get my email and he emailed me entirely independently, then he called and asked what I was up to this weekend, and he wants to see me but he has a friend in town so can he call me and we’ll try to find some time to hang out?
Of course, I said. I want some more compliments. We’ll see if he follows through. I have his number now, so I feel a little more in control, and if I don’t hear from his sorry, wimpy, no-calling ass, I can do the calling my own damn self. Harrumph.
So what’s so tricky about this weekend? Well, I have a guy coming over tonight. Another guy. And we’ll probably have sex. Because that’s what we do when he comes over. And it’s delicious, and he’s big and strong and makes me feel sexy. I don’t necessarily want to give him up, on one hand, but on the other hand… I would love for someone to come around who would make me want to give him up. Does that make sense?
So, here I am. It’s kind of a nice dilemma to have, if you can even call it a dilemma. And because I’m oddly lucky, they have the same name. Heh.
