Friday, I leave work early to spend time at the pool. Uh-oh, here comes my neighbor, a muscle-bound gym junkie, who's pretty adorable. Alas, he's too young for me, and he says things like, WE could do this, and WE could do that. But—and this is kind of important—we just met. I am always surprised by this. I think, Don't you want to get to know what you're not going to like about me first, before you dive in?
Couple weeks ago, I met International Sales Guy Michael online. Holy shit, we hadn't even had our first face-to-face and I felt like a mail-order bride. Don't get me wrong. Michael is model handsome, physically fit, intelligent, fun, yada yada. Of note, we'd both been dumped by people we adored and trusted, so why he wanted to talk exclusivity is beyond my emotional IQ. But I was 0 for 6 with nothing to lose. Might as well check him out, right?
Date #1, Friday. The wining and dining commenced, followed by a walk down Sixth Street where we ducked into Pete's piano bar—always a good venue for revealing my true colors with a boisterous sing-along to the crudest songs known to man, wherein my date either gets me or he doesn't, or he's tormented by the thought of introducing me to his mother. I do come with a warning, which I should wear on my boobs so when he loses focus and is startled to hear profanities from the sweet and petite girl, he is reminded, "Oh yeah, she did mention a proficiency in sailor talk," which is NOT the same as, Me love you long time. However, enter the Disney Whore.
Date #2, Saturday. Great time, good chemistry, and Michael danced me around the room like Fred Astaire. Didn't make me laugh (vital if you want to get to first base), but I mused, if anybody could breathe new life into this broken heart, maybe . . . Still, my gut instinct had already assessed the situation and blinded me with flashing neon lights: What up with this "I'm only seeing you" expectation, cuz—I'm just tossing this out there—WE JUST MET! He went from "Call Me Maybe" to "Hey Baby, Let's Go to Vegas."
Some people meet and instantly fall in love, and maybe when I was much younger I did too. But with experience comes reservation, and usually I'm a toes-in-the-water girl before I cannonball in. So, barely wet, this guy's rush to cliff-dive into a relationship scared the livin' shit out of me.
So sorry, you are not for me. So sorry, c'est la vie!
And so it goes, the count rises. I'm 0 for 7 now, with one in the batter's box and one on deck. Let's see if this season at least somebody gets on base.
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A Bird in A Cage, With A Dream to Fly
20 hours ago
