Friday, July 15, 2005
A dating hangover...
I woke up this morning with three new text messages.
Message # 1: “Hey Honey, it was a pleasure to see you yesterday. When will you be back in the city?”- Triathlete
Last night I joined up with cherrybomb and Mex-goes-NY for cheese and chat on the roof of cherrybomb’s apartment. She had Starman and Jay over, and I invited my sister and a guy I had met on My Space. He is a financial planner that does triathlons on the weekends. We had me up before and I had always believed we had great chemistry, although getting him to open was like taking a crowbar to a prison door. Last night was the friends test.
He failed.
Turns out that he is really not that mysterious, just not very smart. And he’s also not that interesting without his cloak of mystique. Or should I say, he didn’t live up to the fantasy I had built in my imagination. But the real deal breaker came around 11:00 PM when he lead me off to a secluded part of the roof and told me that he voted for Bush.
I had him out the door within five minutes of his confession.
Suddenly all the boring financial talk, was just that, boring.
I was only attracted to him because he is a taller version of one of the great loves of my life. Except that the Greek-American man I broke up with last year was charming and smart and although he also voted for Bush, he was open to new people and new ideas. Once my sister pointed out the resemblance I cringed at the thought I would ever date a lesser version of him and hurried to scurry him down the elevator with a weak excuse that I had to get up early the next morning.
What I really did was join back up with cherrybomb and Mex-goes-NY. It was a pleasant transition to be back with good women friends, exchanging ideas, opening up to one another.
Message #2: “Hey, it’s me. What’s up? Why aren’t you returning my calls? Not that it is not totally awesome to have a text messaging buddy like yourself. But maybe if you get some time in between ‘events’ you could call me. I miss you.”-The Music Man
The Music man, back from San Francisco wants to know why I’m not returning any of his phone calls. Met him two months ago, we started hanging out a lot but only if I planned the night. He would just show up and follow me around wherever I wanted to go.
“What do you want to do tonight?” I would ask.
“I don’t know, what do you want to do.” He’d reply.
He gets angry that my nights of the week fill up so fast that I don’t have time to see him, but he refuses to schedule anything in advance. He calls up to ‘hang out’ but rarely has anything more than a walk to Tasti-D-Lite planned.
“Can’t we just hang-out”. Meanwhile, I’m making my grocery list in my head while we make out on the couch.
Message #3: “ hey! I’m not too much for e-mail. hope you had fun the other night.”-The Irishman
My heart soared. I really like him.
Message # 1: “Hey Honey, it was a pleasure to see you yesterday. When will you be back in the city?”- Triathlete
Last night I joined up with cherrybomb and Mex-goes-NY for cheese and chat on the roof of cherrybomb’s apartment. She had Starman and Jay over, and I invited my sister and a guy I had met on My Space. He is a financial planner that does triathlons on the weekends. We had me up before and I had always believed we had great chemistry, although getting him to open was like taking a crowbar to a prison door. Last night was the friends test.
He failed.
Turns out that he is really not that mysterious, just not very smart. And he’s also not that interesting without his cloak of mystique. Or should I say, he didn’t live up to the fantasy I had built in my imagination. But the real deal breaker came around 11:00 PM when he lead me off to a secluded part of the roof and told me that he voted for Bush.
I had him out the door within five minutes of his confession.
Suddenly all the boring financial talk, was just that, boring.
I was only attracted to him because he is a taller version of one of the great loves of my life. Except that the Greek-American man I broke up with last year was charming and smart and although he also voted for Bush, he was open to new people and new ideas. Once my sister pointed out the resemblance I cringed at the thought I would ever date a lesser version of him and hurried to scurry him down the elevator with a weak excuse that I had to get up early the next morning.
What I really did was join back up with cherrybomb and Mex-goes-NY. It was a pleasant transition to be back with good women friends, exchanging ideas, opening up to one another.
Message #2: “Hey, it’s me. What’s up? Why aren’t you returning my calls? Not that it is not totally awesome to have a text messaging buddy like yourself. But maybe if you get some time in between ‘events’ you could call me. I miss you.”-The Music Man
The Music man, back from San Francisco wants to know why I’m not returning any of his phone calls. Met him two months ago, we started hanging out a lot but only if I planned the night. He would just show up and follow me around wherever I wanted to go.
“What do you want to do tonight?” I would ask.
“I don’t know, what do you want to do.” He’d reply.
He gets angry that my nights of the week fill up so fast that I don’t have time to see him, but he refuses to schedule anything in advance. He calls up to ‘hang out’ but rarely has anything more than a walk to Tasti-D-Lite planned.
“Can’t we just hang-out”. Meanwhile, I’m making my grocery list in my head while we make out on the couch.
Message #3: “ hey! I’m not too much for e-mail. hope you had fun the other night.”-The Irishman
My heart soared. I really like him.
Then it plummeted. Nah, I just really want to fuck him.
And that’s the truth.
I don’t want to relate to him as a human being, find out his mothers name, kiss every freckle on his back. I just want him to want me. I want him to build his world around me and worship me completely. Then I will freak out because he is too needy, push him away, think I can do better, find him repulsive, finally get him to move on and then miss him like crazy.
I put my phone down and crawled back under the covers. I have a dating hang over… too much of anything is a bad thing.
I don’t want to relate to him as a human being, find out his mothers name, kiss every freckle on his back. I just want him to want me. I want him to build his world around me and worship me completely. Then I will freak out because he is too needy, push him away, think I can do better, find him repulsive, finally get him to move on and then miss him like crazy.
I put my phone down and crawled back under the covers. I have a dating hang over… too much of anything is a bad thing.
Labels: Boy Stories, Pop Culture Casualty, Sober, sobriety
