A few tidbits and a funny story.
- The painter called me and left me a message. So I guess my theory of paying him for services rendered didn’t stop him from calling again. Since my transaction with him was complete, I can now ignore his calls. And I did.
- Fifteen years ago from tomorrow (Friday Jan 20th) is the anniversary of my first date with my high school boyfriend and first love. Last I heard, he was still pumping gas at the same gas station, but he did manage to get married. What do I have? Years of failed relationships and…aww, forget it. Next tidbit.
- Like the worst of all reality shows, CL#3TextTormenter is baaack. He called last night, I called him today. We talked for 5 minutes and then he said he had to go but he would call me back. I said I was going out of town for the weekend, but he could try. Then he said, “Ok, so you call me.” Yeah. Sure. I’ll be doing that sometime soon.
- CL#4NewJersey and I have exchanged one email this week, initiated by yours truly. It simply mentioned the Warhol exhibit that he said he wanted to see. I sent him the link. Then he wrote back and said, “is that your way of asking me to go see it with you.” Good lord. That man used my own line on me. And it isn’t even my line! I stole it from my neighbors.
In all seriousness, I’ve lost a little of the twinge of excitement about CL#4NJ. I think it’s this painfully slow communication. I’m losing interest. In fact, I was checking a guy out today at the airport. (I’m in Michigan this weekend visiting the cutest baby in the world, who is suspiciously starting to look like me now.) Anyway, if I really liked CL#4NJ, I don’t think I would be checking someone else out. Come on CL#4!! Step up to the plate already!!! Can someone call him for me? Thanks.
Speed Dating is hilarious.
I signed up for a speed dating event over a month ago. The event was last week. After I signed up, I convinced three other people, one of whom convinced a fourth, to sign up. In total, there were five of us who would speed date. One by one, the other girls received confirmations, and I remained on the waiting list. Since I believe things happen for a reason, I decided to not tempt fate by emailing the organizer or switching places with one of my friends – all of whom were having buyer’s dreaded remorse.
When I wasn’t confirmed, the girls and I swirled around a bunch of conspiracy theories in emails. The first theory was that CL#4NewJersey was important enough that perhaps there was no reason to speed date. I’m a big believer in signs – not coincidences, but signs. This to me seemed a plausible explanation. Even more plausible was the fact that Sammy, little dog, love of my life, was about to endure some extensive medical tests and my mind wasn’t in the dating game. So, there.
In the spirit of support, I attended the event and sat at the bar with a few friends. Shortly after the event started, the organizer delivered to me, a man who had signed up but was also not confirmed. She said if I agreed, we could both speed date, because she needed both of us to keep the numbers even.
I probably sat with this man for an hour and a half – the entire duration of the event going on upstairs. In that time, we had several arguments brew.
He asked me where I was from. I told him Connecticut. He said, “Oh, so your parents are rich.” What the fuck does that mean? We’re not in junior high school anymore. I’m almost 33 years old. It’s entirely possible that I AM the one who is rich, and supporting my parents. Ok, it’s not true due to money being allocated to sick dogs and high heels, but still. His comment was rude, and he directed it at three other people in the group.
At another point in the conversation he was describing something about his job. I said, “Interesting,” mostly in place of saying, “uh-huh.” To that he said obnoxiously, and with a straight face, “NO IT’S NOT.” Rude. Eye rolling and head shaking accompanied the asshole things that came out of his puckering asshole mouth.
Then he asked me what kind of food I ate. I told him I’m mainly a vegetarian who eats seafood. He responded by saying, “Don’t you feel bad that fish are caught in nets and suffocated so that you can eat them? I mean, they struggle for their last breath just so they can end up on your plate.” I said, “It doesn’t really come up until someone jerk I meet in a bar forces it to come up.”
At one point near the end of this hellacious time, he said it takes a really long time to get to know people. You know what I said?
“Nope. People tell you who they are within five minutes of meeting them.”
And I think we’re done here.