ericboy's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

\"And the same black line that was drawn on you was drawn on me / and that's drawing me in\" - The Wallflowers

The day that just ended was my brother's 28th birthday, but no one celebrated. In other news, I had the most interesting date I've ever had last night. It went like this:
Monday night I went to this bar called the Zombie Lounge to celebrate the birthday of my friend, Dominique. I'm hanging out with she and her friend Vanessa and Sicky and we're all having a good time with two dollar well drinks. I see this girl playing pool with her male friend but I can't ever get a good look at her face. I find her initially intriguing and the fact that I can't get a good look at her makes her even more so. I smoke a cigarette outside and come back into my drink, passing her as she's on her way out the door to smoke a cigarette. So I take one sip of my drink and go right back outside. She opens up conversation with the "Do you come here a lot line?", which in retrospect is fucking hilarious. We talk a lot over the course of the evening, occasionally separating to honor the guests that we'd initially left the house to entertain. By the end of the night, she has given me her number and insisted that I call her. I tell her that I will and at 2a.m., they close the doors, with Sicky and I staying behind and getting even more drunk than I frankly remember.
I call her Tuesday afternoon, and Wednesday afternoon, she calls me back. I invite her to come see my plays on Saturday, hoping to both dazzle her with my stage presence and also stave off another meeting until after payday. She says sure, then goes on to ask me what I have planned for that night. I say nothing in particular and she mentions that she wants "a beer". So I ask How do you feel about singing karaoke? to which she responds, "Oh you did not just fucking say that, did you?"
Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
"I've always wanted to but never had the nerve. Sure. What did you have in mind?"
So I set up a meeting to go to the Lamplighters in Mission Hills. She meets me here at the apartment and I give her the grand tour, then we take Laura's car over to the bar. Over the course of the evening, we each have three Guinesses, two gin-and-tonics, and a shot of Jager and Jameson. Each. By the end of the night, she is wasted.
We hit it off really well; so well, in fact, that I had to make mention of it.
So, I do believe that we're hitting it off.
"I do believe you're right. I like you."
And I like you.
"Why is that?"
Well, you're a lot of fun, you're outgoing, and you're very attractive.
"You think so?"
I said it, didn't I?
She then proceeds to ask everyone around if she's attractive, including a bisexual woman who is introduced to her by an older woman outside. They go on to make out, while I'm standing there thinking how completely unneccessary I am. The older woman, I do believe her name was Holly, kept telling me that she was impressed that I wasn't tearing my clothes off and trying to get between them. I merely offered her an unpleasant smile and stared off down the street, while my date continued to furiously make out with a woman she'd just met. The novelty of this wore off in the first ten seconds or so. What really got me steamed was when she started telling the woman, "I like you. You should take my number and call me," which is what I'd heard from her over the course of our seven-hour history. The fact that this complete stranger was getting similar responses in the manner of minutes made me feel pretty fucking small.
Eventually she stops kissing the woman and does take her phone number, then we each try to drink a Budweiser with limited success. We leave the bar and each lament that we both have roommates at our homes. She suggests that we "do it" in the car, which for two full seconds sounds to me like a really good idea. I snap out of this poor judgement and realize that I actually like this girl, and don't want our correspondence to culminate in a cramped and stinking drunk romp in the front seat of Laura's Hyundai. I tell her no, but also tell her that there's no way in Hell that she's driving home. We get back to my place and I give her a t-shirt and some boxers and we both fall asleep. I wake up two hours later and go to work.
Another thing that upset me that evening and stayed with me all day at work was that she kept reiterating that she called me back because I seemed like "fun". I'd be a fun guy to hang out with. I kind of like the idea of that. But as I look back on her behavior that evening, I think that perhaps her idea of "fun" is not the same as mine. She's a medical assistant, a professional, and I fear she may be one of those nine-to-fivers that likes to just go out and get absolutely stupid on a nightly basis, living the nightlife with a complete and wreckless and abandon. And I am not and never will be that. I am very serious about my goals and ambitions and my health. I'm not trying to go out and meet anonymous "fun" people to screw in cars and then forget about. That, to me, is not fun.
I wonder how "fun" I am now that I refused her in the front seat of my car. I fear that doing the responsible thing might have ruined me in the eyes of a woman whom, for the first three hours of our date, I was really into. I called her this afternoon to see if she made it into work and if she felt okay, also thinking in the back of my mind that she might offer some sort of apology for the awkwardness of the tail end of our date. She didn't. But she did confirm that she's still coming to see the show on Saturday. Now what?
This is the sort of thing that people talk to their older sibling about, but I don't have that luxury. Life is funny, but seldom "fun", now is it?

12:07 a.m. - 2005-07-22

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next