I went on my date last night, and it was quite possibly the most awkward dinner I've ever had. The guy was clearly very nervous, and like a callous idiot, I totally called him on it, about half way through the dinner. He turned bright red. I don't know what I was thinking. Sometimes I pick people apart just because I can, without thinking first about whether I really should. In this case, I shouldn't have, but by the time I realized what I had done, it was too late.
Poor guy.
We talked for a couple hours about all the usual "getting to know you" topics. He's really nice and sweet, and even kind of witty in a cute way. I actually like him a lot. Just not like that. No attraction at all.
I was honest with him. I told him that I am neither interested in nor ready to be dating, but that I thought he was a great guy and I'd like to be his friend. He said he was cool with that, and we talked about getting together again to hang out as friends. But I could see that he was disappointed with my declaration, so I don't know if he really wants to get together again. I guess we'll see what happens.
Classic lines that guys totally hate to hear...
You're a really great "friend".
I really like you, but I'm not interested in dating.
And the George Costanza original...
It's not you, it's me.
Not saying I used these exact phrases, but the conversation ultimately went in that direction. It was the honest truth.
I know I let him down, but hopefully he appreciates my honesty. I'm proud of myself for being up front with him and being true to myself. I could have easily squirmed out of it without telling him how I felt, but I didn't.
Yay me.
It's almost like I've learned.
Or something.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
The Magic Number
I've been mega stressed out lately. I think I've already written enough about why that is, so I won't go into it again here, but suffice to say that things haven't gotten any better.
When I feel really terrible, when it seems like everything is shit, it's always the little unexpected things that cheer me up.
The other day I was in the car listening to the radio when I heard "Three is a Magic Number."
You know, that old song from School House Rock?
I had completely forgotten that Blind Melon covered that song back in the 90's, and when I heard it on the radio, it made me so happy. I was totally singing and dancing in the car, and as soon as I got home, I downloaded it from iTunes. I've been listening to it constantly.
I love this song.
And since I love it so much for the way it cheers me up when I'm having a bad day (and since today is a bad day and I need cheering up), I thought I'd share it.
If, like me, you're old enough to remember School House Rock, then this corny 70's cartoon is especially nostalgic. But I also just love the song. It's right up there with "Such Great Heights" (another song that always cheers me up no matter what).
So sit back and enjoy a childhood memory...
... And that's the magic number!
When I feel really terrible, when it seems like everything is shit, it's always the little unexpected things that cheer me up.
The other day I was in the car listening to the radio when I heard "Three is a Magic Number."
You know, that old song from School House Rock?
I had completely forgotten that Blind Melon covered that song back in the 90's, and when I heard it on the radio, it made me so happy. I was totally singing and dancing in the car, and as soon as I got home, I downloaded it from iTunes. I've been listening to it constantly.
I love this song.
And since I love it so much for the way it cheers me up when I'm having a bad day (and since today is a bad day and I need cheering up), I thought I'd share it.
If, like me, you're old enough to remember School House Rock, then this corny 70's cartoon is especially nostalgic. But I also just love the song. It's right up there with "Such Great Heights" (another song that always cheers me up no matter what).
So sit back and enjoy a childhood memory...
... And that's the magic number!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Sold Out
I dreamt that I went to a sold out show.
When I arrived at the venue, it was all closed up. Dark inside. There was a sign on the door:
"Show has been moved to another venue."
So I went to the other venue. There were maybe two dozen people there, scattered throughout the theater, sitting in little groups of 2 or 3. A few were alone like me. There was a couple down in the front, a small group over on the side, and one guy way up in the second balcony.
The lead performer of the band came out and walked around the empty seats, talking to each small group on his way. He seemed to know them all. He shook their hands and told them to enjoy the show.
I thought to myself, "this show was supposed to be sold out. Well, maybe more people will arrive after the opening act."
The lights went down.
There was no opening act! The first performers were the only performers, and the show was very different than I expected. It was costumed, choreographed, timed, and rehearsed. The performers didn't even look real; they were like perfectly proportioned, moving, breathing, singing cardboard cut-outs.
"What is this?"
If I hadn't just seen the guy before the show, I would almost think the real band wasn't even here.
I looked around the dark theater to see if more viewers had arrived or if others looked as confused as I felt. Still the same number of people, all thoroughly engaged in the performance as if was absolutely amazing.
"Huh. I guess this is it."
Then it was over, in like 5 minutes. The curtain closed, the lights came up, and two dozen or so people chattered amongst themselves about how great the show had been as they filed out of the theater, as slowly as if they were waiting for a large crowd to clear out.
I just sat in my seat.
"Am I the only one who doesn't get it?"
It was like the twilight zone of concerts.
When I arrived at the venue, it was all closed up. Dark inside. There was a sign on the door:
"Show has been moved to another venue."
So I went to the other venue. There were maybe two dozen people there, scattered throughout the theater, sitting in little groups of 2 or 3. A few were alone like me. There was a couple down in the front, a small group over on the side, and one guy way up in the second balcony.
The lead performer of the band came out and walked around the empty seats, talking to each small group on his way. He seemed to know them all. He shook their hands and told them to enjoy the show.
I thought to myself, "this show was supposed to be sold out. Well, maybe more people will arrive after the opening act."
The lights went down.
There was no opening act! The first performers were the only performers, and the show was very different than I expected. It was costumed, choreographed, timed, and rehearsed. The performers didn't even look real; they were like perfectly proportioned, moving, breathing, singing cardboard cut-outs.
"What is this?"
If I hadn't just seen the guy before the show, I would almost think the real band wasn't even here.
I looked around the dark theater to see if more viewers had arrived or if others looked as confused as I felt. Still the same number of people, all thoroughly engaged in the performance as if was absolutely amazing.
"Huh. I guess this is it."
Then it was over, in like 5 minutes. The curtain closed, the lights came up, and two dozen or so people chattered amongst themselves about how great the show had been as they filed out of the theater, as slowly as if they were waiting for a large crowd to clear out.
I just sat in my seat.
"Am I the only one who doesn't get it?"
It was like the twilight zone of concerts.
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