I am by most standards a dating Neanderthal. I don't think I'm a particularly bad boyfriend, but I'm a terrible asker-outer. I seem to spend a lot of my time attending wedding or engagement receptions these days, and listening patiently to stories of the how-we-met variety while silently praying for instant apocalypse. What I did notice about these stories though is that they almost always involve some superhuman effort on the part of the parties concerned to make things happen. My own cupboard is quite bare in that department.
So I invested in some serious introspection to come up with a best-of moment, one shining example of a time when I stepped up to the plate and completely dazzled someone into meeting for coffee or a movie or dinner, and came up with zilch. I've never asked a woman out. Ever. My relationships have all been friends-turned-lovers affairs, helped in no small part by copious amounts of alcohol or boredom. Sometimes both. If it weren't for alcohol and lack of entertainment options, I'd probably only have one serious relationship to show for my entire life. And that only happened because somebody told somebody who told somebody else that I was crushing like crazy on my best friend at the time, back in school. I actually ran two miles when she asked me about it.
A few days ago, I decided I'd do something about this glaring omission in an otherwise respectable catalog of life experiences. I'd moved a few weeks ago to my old college town and discovered I could just coast along on the back of some college-time notoriety that appears destined to follow me to my grave. But then I met someone. Of the how-we-met variety, all cute coincidences and common interests. But I couldn't close. I couldn't even begin to close. So I figured I should probably get some practice at this thing if I really didn't want to die alone and called up an old friend from college and asked her if she wanted to meet for a drink.
She said no. Then she said, "haha only kidding!" and I remembered why I hadn't kept in touch all these years. But it was too late to pull out, so meet we did, earlier tonight for what was possibly the longest five hours in the history of mankind. We did drinks, then dinner, then a movie. I actually borrowed her phone to check my Twitter feed about halfway through dinner because I could have been comatose and she would not have noticed. She was a talker, that one. Through drinks, dinner, even the movie. I think I cringed when she asked if I'd be in town next week.
At least she came with internet. Of course, the ones you care about never mail or text when you want them to. On the plus side, I read up on the different classical dances of India. Better yet, I managed to write these few lines, dubious as they are of quality. It's the most writing I've done in almost a month, and hopefully that will change. And I'll just go back to hanging around bars till closing time hoping somebody's drunk enough to want to go home with a non-starter.
Icy High's Music Recco: First Date by Blink 182. For school times' sake.
So I invested in some serious introspection to come up with a best-of moment, one shining example of a time when I stepped up to the plate and completely dazzled someone into meeting for coffee or a movie or dinner, and came up with zilch. I've never asked a woman out. Ever. My relationships have all been friends-turned-lovers affairs, helped in no small part by copious amounts of alcohol or boredom. Sometimes both. If it weren't for alcohol and lack of entertainment options, I'd probably only have one serious relationship to show for my entire life. And that only happened because somebody told somebody who told somebody else that I was crushing like crazy on my best friend at the time, back in school. I actually ran two miles when she asked me about it.
A few days ago, I decided I'd do something about this glaring omission in an otherwise respectable catalog of life experiences. I'd moved a few weeks ago to my old college town and discovered I could just coast along on the back of some college-time notoriety that appears destined to follow me to my grave. But then I met someone. Of the how-we-met variety, all cute coincidences and common interests. But I couldn't close. I couldn't even begin to close. So I figured I should probably get some practice at this thing if I really didn't want to die alone and called up an old friend from college and asked her if she wanted to meet for a drink.
She said no. Then she said, "haha only kidding!" and I remembered why I hadn't kept in touch all these years. But it was too late to pull out, so meet we did, earlier tonight for what was possibly the longest five hours in the history of mankind. We did drinks, then dinner, then a movie. I actually borrowed her phone to check my Twitter feed about halfway through dinner because I could have been comatose and she would not have noticed. She was a talker, that one. Through drinks, dinner, even the movie. I think I cringed when she asked if I'd be in town next week.
At least she came with internet. Of course, the ones you care about never mail or text when you want them to. On the plus side, I read up on the different classical dances of India. Better yet, I managed to write these few lines, dubious as they are of quality. It's the most writing I've done in almost a month, and hopefully that will change. And I'll just go back to hanging around bars till closing time hoping somebody's drunk enough to want to go home with a non-starter.
Icy High's Music Recco: First Date by Blink 182. For school times' sake.
