Well, that's the weekend, then, folks.
The good news is I am done worrying about me and K. We have been kick-ass friends so long; it will take more than a little sex to stop us ("haha! Nice try, Penis-in-Vagina Man! Your nefarious schemes hold no power here! Hahaha!"). That said, I haven't seen him in a week, but we've both been super busy, too.
I bought him a copy of 'Holidays on Ice' (the Sedaris Christmas book) and a sparkly green pen that says 'I 'Heart' Jesus' on it, so yes, John, there is a Santa Claus.
Speaking of Christmas, I feel terrible because I hurt a friend's feelings the other day. She is a friend from work, who I adore, and I guess I don't know her quite well enough to always read her yet, because she asked me if I wanted to go see 'Christmas with the Kranks' with her, and I cracked up, assuming she was kidding. IT'S A TIM ALLEN CHRISTMAS MOVIE. Anyway. She was serious. So I guess she doesn't know me that well yet, either. I feel bad for making her feel dumb. Stupid frickin' me.
I went on a date last night, horror of horrors. Can't we just skip ahead to the part where I know him well enough that we can go for sushi and I am comfortable enough to shove an entire piece of dynamite roll in my mouth and take five minutes to chew it, but you can't try and eat half because it falls apart, so the minute the whole thing's in my mouth he asks me a question, purposely one that can't be answered with a nod, a shake or a shrug, and then I have to hold my finger up to say "just a second" while he watches me chew to embarrass me, and we're both laughing and my eyes are watering from the wasabi?
I like that part.
But the "so, the movie. That was um. Good. So. Tell me about your siblings" part...that part I'm not so good at.
Anyway. He's a super nice guy, and I've kinda been "hmm"ing about him for a while, and he asked me out, so I thought "what the heck" and had a cup of coffee with him, then a movie (plus cherry slushie, natch), then a cup of hot chocolate. Read: Three trips to the bathroom and too sugared up to sleep when I got home.
I got ridiculously shy (me? what? who dat?) and kept sort of smiling down at whichever beverage I was damply clutching. It was a niceish time, although I can never help feeling like "don't worry, self, this will be over soon and you can be reading your new book in your own bed, with your Tango-cat". Dating scares me. It is so awkward. He kissed me as he got out of my car; an awkward, earnest kiss, which had the potential to turn into a really good kiss, or a slightly sticky relative-type-kiss, so I think he chose the right time to end it and say goodnight.
He asked me what I was doing tonight (I said I had plans--I do). And asked me if he could call while he is a couple provinces away over the next week or so doing Christmas.
And I immediately inwardly went "Retreat! retreat!" because a) naturally the minute a guy likes me enough to want to see me again, he must be a big freak; but mostly b) HE'S THREATENING INDEPENDENT GEORGE. I wanted to say "whoa there, sparky, let's take this one magical evening at a time." but I bootstomped my Inner Bitch for a moment, and said sure. May as well make an attempt at an open mind, right?
Actually, now that I think about it, my reasoning would have been a lot more A) (he likes me. what's wrong with this asshat?") and a lot less B) ("hey! stop tryin' to cramp my style!") when the ex and I split up. I think my feeling reluctant to let just anybody into my life, and my not jumping madly in and going all Clingy Leroux, points to some healthy choices on my part.
So, there's that.
Between that and a Christmas party where an evil mother-in-law referred to a black kid (obviously black, with big ol' dreads and the whole bit) as "that tanned boy"--yikes--, that was pretty much my weekend.
And now I return to my secret double life in which I am a glamorous tech support guru. "No, no, go to your DESKtop. Not your LAPtop. We're just going to stick to the one computer here for now. Okay. The screen you see when you boot your computer. No, no, don't kick it. When you start it, I mean. Do you see your recycle bin? Ah, okay, yes, then, your "icon screen". My apologies for calling it your desktop. Okay, close all your windows to go to your des...your icon screen. No, no, do not shut down Windows.....I meant...*sigh* BUY AN ABACUS, MOTHERFUCKER!!!"
Big smiles, kids.
The good news is I am done worrying about me and K. We have been kick-ass friends so long; it will take more than a little sex to stop us ("haha! Nice try, Penis-in-Vagina Man! Your nefarious schemes hold no power here! Hahaha!"). That said, I haven't seen him in a week, but we've both been super busy, too.
I bought him a copy of 'Holidays on Ice' (the Sedaris Christmas book) and a sparkly green pen that says 'I 'Heart' Jesus' on it, so yes, John, there is a Santa Claus.
Speaking of Christmas, I feel terrible because I hurt a friend's feelings the other day. She is a friend from work, who I adore, and I guess I don't know her quite well enough to always read her yet, because she asked me if I wanted to go see 'Christmas with the Kranks' with her, and I cracked up, assuming she was kidding. IT'S A TIM ALLEN CHRISTMAS MOVIE. Anyway. She was serious. So I guess she doesn't know me that well yet, either. I feel bad for making her feel dumb. Stupid frickin' me.
I went on a date last night, horror of horrors. Can't we just skip ahead to the part where I know him well enough that we can go for sushi and I am comfortable enough to shove an entire piece of dynamite roll in my mouth and take five minutes to chew it, but you can't try and eat half because it falls apart, so the minute the whole thing's in my mouth he asks me a question, purposely one that can't be answered with a nod, a shake or a shrug, and then I have to hold my finger up to say "just a second" while he watches me chew to embarrass me, and we're both laughing and my eyes are watering from the wasabi?
I like that part.
But the "so, the movie. That was um. Good. So. Tell me about your siblings" part...that part I'm not so good at.
Anyway. He's a super nice guy, and I've kinda been "hmm"ing about him for a while, and he asked me out, so I thought "what the heck" and had a cup of coffee with him, then a movie (plus cherry slushie, natch), then a cup of hot chocolate. Read: Three trips to the bathroom and too sugared up to sleep when I got home.
I got ridiculously shy (me? what? who dat?) and kept sort of smiling down at whichever beverage I was damply clutching. It was a niceish time, although I can never help feeling like "don't worry, self, this will be over soon and you can be reading your new book in your own bed, with your Tango-cat". Dating scares me. It is so awkward. He kissed me as he got out of my car; an awkward, earnest kiss, which had the potential to turn into a really good kiss, or a slightly sticky relative-type-kiss, so I think he chose the right time to end it and say goodnight.
He asked me what I was doing tonight (I said I had plans--I do). And asked me if he could call while he is a couple provinces away over the next week or so doing Christmas.
And I immediately inwardly went "Retreat! retreat!" because a) naturally the minute a guy likes me enough to want to see me again, he must be a big freak; but mostly b) HE'S THREATENING INDEPENDENT GEORGE. I wanted to say "whoa there, sparky, let's take this one magical evening at a time." but I bootstomped my Inner Bitch for a moment, and said sure. May as well make an attempt at an open mind, right?
Actually, now that I think about it, my reasoning would have been a lot more A) (he likes me. what's wrong with this asshat?") and a lot less B) ("hey! stop tryin' to cramp my style!") when the ex and I split up. I think my feeling reluctant to let just anybody into my life, and my not jumping madly in and going all Clingy Leroux, points to some healthy choices on my part.
So, there's that.
Between that and a Christmas party where an evil mother-in-law referred to a black kid (obviously black, with big ol' dreads and the whole bit) as "that tanned boy"--yikes--, that was pretty much my weekend.
And now I return to my secret double life in which I am a glamorous tech support guru. "No, no, go to your DESKtop. Not your LAPtop. We're just going to stick to the one computer here for now. Okay. The screen you see when you boot your computer. No, no, don't kick it. When you start it, I mean. Do you see your recycle bin? Ah, okay, yes, then, your "icon screen". My apologies for calling it your desktop. Okay, close all your windows to go to your des...your icon screen. No, no, do not shut down Windows.....I meant...*sigh* BUY AN ABACUS, MOTHERFUCKER!!!"
Big smiles, kids.