On Being a Drunken Jackass, My Oldness, and %#@$ Spellcheck (10/27/05)

Ok so I might have blown it with this Guy. My little rant last night was a result of a very uncomfortable conversation we were having at the time. See, my problem is that I really, really like him and am really, really attracted to him and I know we get along sexually but I don’t know whether we get along in other ways enough to make this last long term. But I hope we do and I want to find out if we do.

Except I only THINK I hope we do, I’m not completely sure. There’s still this voice in the back of my mind telling me that this has all happened very suddenly for someone who just a couple weeks ago was dead set against being in a relationship of any substantial kind, and is this all really what I need right now?

So last night we were IMing and I had had a few glasses of wine with my mom, and well, you know the famous drunken phone calls? I guess that you should stay away from IMing drunk as well. I know that now. But last night . . . not so much. I honestly can’t remember all the details, another bad sign, but I remember enough. I have been getting this distinct feeling that while I think there is at least a possibility of something substantial happening here at some point in the future, that in the back of his mind he does not. That to him that door is completely shut.

So I decided to push him on what he has been thinking about me, and mostly I understood and agreed with it. We both have concerns about where all this can go based on whether or not we have enough in common to make it over a longer term. But he has other concerns, one being that I am older than him. I think he actually used the term biological clock, which is where my little rant came in. And I got all pouty and put up an away message and got another drink (again, not a good idea). Then I accidentally hit the power button on the computer with my drunken toe and I’m sure he thought that I did that on purpose to be even more pouty, which I swear is not the case. I was not being pouty, just drunky.

(Ok, just a little aside here: My spell check does not contain the word pouty, yet it still just suggested I use poutier instead of more pouty up there. Oh, and now when I wrote poutier, it’s not recognizing that either. It’s the one that suggested it! Yay Bill Gates! Apparently yay isn’t a word either, btw. But, and this is the really twisted part, it accepts the existence of btw! Anyway . . .) Oh, and don’t even get me started on ellipses. Computers have no sense of dramatic writing tools. Anyway . . .

So to his immense credit, when he saw that I had logged off, he did call me. Thank you, Mr. Guy. Our conversation continued on IM once I had fixed the computer situation, and I am much less fuzzy on the contents of this part because I still have it available to read. Now he said that kids are not the real issue he’s concerned about, that it’s my being more mature than him. (Hint, everyone. Old people don’t like being called mature any better than being called old. We all know it’s just code for old.) So I went off on another little rant using a couple of examples

(Sorry, now I can’t stop this: The damn computer actually thinks I should have just used its instead of it’s. AAARGH! My Bachelor’s Degree in English is bursting into flames out of frustration right now.)

So, examples where my oldness (read: maturity) has been to his benefit, where I have not freaked out the way I would have at a younger age: When he didn’t reply to my text a few days ago for a long time and when his ex IMed him to talk about the two of them. And now he was saying that my oldness was a good thing because of all that but it’s just that he’s not old yet so he doesn’t know if he wants an old person or not.

And we kind of ended it there, with me saying I need to know he’s not discounting anything yet and him saying he isn’t, which I really hope he means. And we are supposed to see each other tonight, except now I feel all awkward because I really did not mean to have the conversation we had last night so early on and now I feel like I was being a drunken jackass. So here I am at 8:30 in the morning trying to make sense of it all by writing it down, and it hasn’t made me feel any better about the whole thing.

P.S. For the record, I’m really not that old at all, just older than him.