Sunday, Aug. 29, 2004
Havana Nirvana, posted at 10:55 p.m.
Epiphany in Baltimore has moved to epiphanyinbaltimore.blogspot.com The scene: Brunch at Little Havana, this morningTwo female friends and I are talking about dating as you get older. Actually, I sort of walk in on the conversation, but don't back out of it because I'm interested in one of them but I've been afraid I offended her during my drunkenness on my birthday. I still don't know if I did. Anyhow, blah blah blah, it's harder as you older, we get pickier, baggage is more for both parties, blah blah blah.
Then, Rebecca says, "You know, I just feel like there aren't a whole lot of Robs or Ryans or (glancing at me) Epiphanies out there." (Note: Rob and Ryan are two of my best friends, both great guys, one married, one with the same girl for six years or so.)
I say, "Hey hey hey, I'm still out there."
Apologies, laughs, etc. I don't know what to think of the comment. Maybe I'm invisible. I'm not thought of as single and available because I'm such a hermit. Does she mean nice, decent guys? I am. Probably too much so. I certainly overthink everything do death. I don't know why the hardest words in the world right now as I re-enter the dating scene are, "Hey, you and I should go have dinner together this week. How about it?"
I wore a big shirt today and didn't work out yesterday. So, I felt fat, so I certainly couldn't have asked today.
I'm feeling pretty good about things right now though on the dating front. I went on a date (albeit with a married woman, and it probably wasn't really a date, just two people out together alone enjoying the entire evening together, but damn she sure is beautiful and I also walked her home from the party on Saturday night, and our mutual friend was telling me that they're trying to get her to get divorced and marry me, then she winked at me and I'm sort of going to consciensously remove myself from that drama, and I'm okay with it all) on Friday, and I have a date with someone I've had a crush on for six years on Tuesday (even though that one's probably not a real date either, more of a dinner with an old friend, but I don't care and I'm going to have a good time and she is someone I can have effortless conversation with and I only linked that because her name is spelled wrong there). I also have two prospects in the Baltimore area:
Prospect #1: M. A 27-year old teacher. Glasses. A little (attractive) junk in the trunk. Big baseball fan. Music fan. Just bought her own house. But, sometimes confusing. And busier than I am, with two jobs. I was heartened to see her arrive at the brunch today. I left the message yesterday, the first time I had called since I probably offended her in my ridiculously drunken state at my birthday. I dig her, though.
Prospect #2: The wild card. The whip smart tart. 25 years old. Has English degree, but is now going back to school to get teacher certification because she's been waiting tables. A tiny bit of a pothead. Hot, great body, great sense of humor, funny and intelligent. Hippy-ish. Wears Erykah Badu banners in her hair like she just don't care. Sexy short skirts at work. Frizzy red hair. Her mom wants her to date me, and she let her mom write comments in the guestbook after I had waited on them like, "Great waiter - CUTE!". Always borderline flirty with me, can never tell, though. Goes to Centre Stage alone because she doesn't have anyone to go with. Broke up with a longtime beau about three or four months ago. He continued sending presents to her for a month afterwards. Funny as all get out. She calls me her Hero. You should see this comic strip she wrote about me on my tip cup.
Of course, I can only tell when the dumb ones want me.
Come on, inBaltimore, take a fucking chance on something.
Sometimes, I wish a girl would just come and read Holden's "I'm with a cool single guy" scarf and be charmed enough to just come home with me right there:
Tomorrow is the first day of school for teachers and I'm so excited I could shit.
Let me just say that it's a good thing that this journal has turned from my usual, I don't know, bitching about shitty tips at the restaurant and talking curriculum and stuff to about dating. It's good I'm interested again. I felt incapably bruised for a long time, and then, in getting out of it, I got my eyes sliced open and silicon crammed in there to hold them together and felt shitty for months. Not anymore. So all this is a good thing, because I'm not just whining, I'm doing something about it. I think/hope/please, I'm actually getting tired of feeling so lonely all the time.
Listening to: Old 97s, Fight Songs. Great band.