Friday, November 30, 2007

The Musician, Part III

So the third date with the Musician was on Friday (the day after the Republican date). We were going to dinner and a movie. He picked me up at my apartment and when I came down to meet him, he was wearing the hideous girl glasses again. I swallowed hard and thought, you can get over this. You can get over this! So off we went to dinner.

Over dinner it became apparent that the great conversation we had on our second date? A fluke. Thinking back, I realized that the only reason I thought we had great conversation was because I had carried the conversation myself. Having just spent a week in New Hampshire house-sitting and with no one to talk to, I had had a lot to say the other night. Now that it was up to both of us again, he was not holding things up at all. There were so many awkward pauses in which I could stare directly at his hideous girl glasses-covered face and realize that nope, still not attracted to him. Any niceness I felt in cuddling just had to do with the fact that I had A Guy's arm around me, and was not looking into his beady-eyed, sweaty little face.

Harsh, I know, but this is what I thought. I thought, I know he is very, very nice, but there is no way I will ever become attracted enough to him to sleep with him. The end. And then, to seal his fate, he opened his mouth and told me that he had brought a camera to take a picture of us as a couple so he could show the other guys on tour his girlfriend. Did he NOT remember the conversation in which I told him I am commitment phobic and we need to go slowly and not use terms like girlfriend just yet? At this point I began to hyperventilate, and of course, the waitress was ignoring the table, so despite the fact that we had been finished for well over 15 minutes, she had not come to bring the check. So I did the only thing I could think of: I excused myself to the ladies' room.

And I hid in there. Probably for ten minutes. I called my friend Mike (not my Mike; we're pretty much over. This would be Mike #2) and talked it through with him. I decided that I could use my panic time in the restroom as a good excuse, tell him I wasn't feeling well (hence the long absence), and couldn't make the movie so please bring me home. This was a time when I seriously considered walking home (the restaurant was only a few blocks away) and ditching a guy in the restaurant. I was that panicky. But I didn't. I sucked it up, went back to the table, where the check had finally arrived, and lied through my teeth.

He brought me home and thankfully did not bring up taking a picture of "us as a couple" again. I made my excuses and went into the house. Mike came over in a half hour or so and we got drunk and ranted about how much guys and girls suck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And next time...the Urination Incident.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

The Republican Interlude

Alas, I am not overseas with some stud right now, but here is the story of the Republican with whom I had my first date between the second and third dates with the Musician. Damn, I was hot that week...

I had been talking with the Republican for a week or so before my second Musician date, which was on a Tuesday. I had my Republican date on a Thursday. Alas, I knew it was a love that would not last because not only was he a Republican but he was a hard-core, far-right leaning Republican who is on the Republican Town Committee in our city. (Yes, in Connecticut, it's always called the Town Committee, even in the cities. Don't ask me why...) It's like the Jets and the Sharks; I knew one day we'd be hissing at each other with our respective gangs around us in the middle of Capitol Avenue.

Still, he was pretty funny and a lot older than me, something that was appealing to me at the moment after Crazy Andy's antics. I figured maybe older guys wouldn't jump off the roof because their bones are more brittle, you see, and they'd be more afraid of breaking something. He called me Carville and he was Matalin, and we had great fun prodding each other like that. So we met for dinner and had a great time. Turns out we had a lot in common, grew up in adjacent towns, etc., so there was good conversation. He walked me to my car and kissed me goodnight, and there was chemistry.

We talked online a few more times after that until the fateful night. I knew it would happen one day. It was just after Bush vetoed SChip (health care subsidies for kids) and we got into it. He insisted that everyone should just pay the doctors themselves and then prices would naturally go down by market demands, and I insisted that many Americans (particularly those who are not affluent) wouldn't be able to afford that and that as it is, they can't even afford the insurance without employer subsidies. He basically figured that if he and his parents did it, everyone else can, which gets to the crux of my problem with most Republicans, and I kept warning him that if he wanted a second date, he should just back off this talk right now and agree to disagree, but he wouldn't listen.

The crux of it is that many Republicans, including this one, feel that every man should be for himself no matter what, and that the only reason some people can't make it on their own right now is because they don't have to. Even considering all that is true (which I don't), should the children of people who don't have the money for health care suffer because of the parents they were born to? I say no, he said yes.

I never talked to him again.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

The Musician, Part II

The Musician...So when last we left off, I had decided--despite the lack of physical attraction--to give the Musician one more chance. Three weeks passed, with us talking online most days, and the talking online was going well, so I was optimistic for the second date. He was coming to my place for pizza and a movie.

He showed up with 2 bottles of wine and a bouquet. He was not wearing his hideous girl glasses, and he had cut his beard. Things were looking up. I thought back and recalled him asking me at one point if he ever cut it, how much he should cut off. Also, I must mention that over dessert on our first date, he started talking about his (six-inch long) goatee, which he said he had plans to grow even longer, so he would look like ZZ Top. Then he made a joke about how he could take it and comb it over his bald head. I believe the look of pure horror that came over my face at that moment was something I did not conceal well. So I must admit that I felt responsible (and not at all upset) when I saw his newly trimmed beard.

We had pizza and wine for dinner. It was a good time. We had fun conversation and I wasn't repulsed, and then we sat on the couch to watch a movie. That was good. Cuddling was good. We kissed a few times at the end of the night--chaste, lips-closed kisses--and made plans to see each other two days later for dinner and a movie out, since he was leaving for a few weeks on tour after that.

Stay tuned for the third date. In the meantime, let's just say all did not go so well as the second date. And for those of you interested in how urination ties into my dating life, that was two guys after the musician, but I promise to have you all caught up by Thanksgiving.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

I Leave my Mark on the Blue Ridge Parkway

I've spent the last week on a road trip to Florida to visit my uncle and leave some of my mom's ashes with him. I drove by myself and met my sisters at the airport down there, because I love me my road trippin.

Today I drove 120 miles of the Blue Ridge Parkway on my way through Virginia. Partway through the drive, I really, really needed to use the bathroom but there was none for miles around. Out of desperation, I scoped out the scenic overlooks until I found one that was hidden from the main road by trees. Then I pulled into the far end so that my car would protect me from the view of anyone who happened to pull in after me.

Still, I was nervous about the trees. The leaves were fallen off many of them, and though I couldn't see the road, perhaps someone on the road could still see me. There were mad cops patrolling the Parkway and most of them were sitting in scenic overlooks. The last thing I needed was to be arrested for public urinating and defacing a national park. So I decided to open my car door so that I was protected on two sides by the car, and on the other two sides--a mountain cliff.

Trouble was, Ginny the puppy was in the car, and with the door open, she could jump out and run away, so I put her on her leash and held the leash with one hand while I dropped trow with the other and held my jeans and panties out of the line of fire. As soon as I started to pee, Ginny came running over and sniffed at my steaming, yellow business. It was perhaps the most awkward moment I've had in my life. Okay, that's an exaggeration. Definitely the most awkward moment in a national park.

Anyway, I shook my bare ass dry, yanked up my jeans, and we got in the car and drove away from the scene of the crime as casually as possible. I do believe that the experience of seeing her mommy urinate outdoors had a positive effect on her, though, as she has not had any accidents since.

And that is the mark I left on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. And that is not the most interesting story involving urination that has happened to me in the last month either. Stay tuned for the wrap-up on my dating life of late.