The 45 minute date
Another two blog day! Wow, I guess it’s all about quantity and not necessarily quality. Nonetheless, I felt compelled to write about this, my first forty five minute date.
I met up with B at Brioche at 6 o’clock as we had agreed to yesterday. He looked very dapper in his suit. I hate to say it, but men in suits: dead freakin’ sexy. I hate corporate life, I hate corporations, but give me a man in suit and I will… well, I will try and get him out of it.
I had a glass of wine (forgoing the obligatory coffee because for the love of god I am going to sleep tonight). I got there a bit early. I read my Economist. After B showed up he grabbed a coffee and we chatted for a bit and he told me that he was planning on going back to the office to work on his resume, as he had received an interesting job prospect from a recruiter. He said that, as usual, I was inscrutable. He told me I looked tired. Both were likely true. And then after I was done my glass of wine (which took me 45 minutes) he said, “Good work” and we left. He asked how I was getting home and I told him I was taking the bus. He asked how my writing was going, a reference to the “happiness exercise” that resulted in my epiphany moment over the weekend. Laughing, I told him that I had written down my moment of happiness and that I had mailed it to him. He seemed at first surprised and then pleased, and said that he looked forward to reading it. I said I looked forward to trying to beat him to his mailbox so he couldn’t read it.
Then we were standing in front of Harbour Centre and he said he was going to head back down to Waterfront to catch a bus. I said okay and stood there. What was I supposed to offer? Another handshake? Then he leaned in, gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug and told me to get a good night’s sleep. I nodded my consent.
Perplexed and puzzled I wandered over to my bus station. A million thoughts and doubts running through my head. And then I remembered the happiness exercise. Why was I beating myself up? If B wanted to be only friends, then that was fine. What was the loss? Was it comparable to the demise of a six year relationship, replete with a joint bank account? Uh, no. And the possibility did exist that he did want to get home at a reasonable hour to work on his resume to apply for the job and change his career path. What was I lamenting about? I still have a phenomenal week ahead of me: I get to see my engineering buddy tomorrow; I am going out for drinks with some coworkers Friday night; I am going in to White Rock for a poker night on Saturday night. Yeah, life is really sticking it to me. M, my coworker who liberated the robot with the articulated arms for me at the Christmas party, appears to be single again. A guy I had a small crush on that used to work with us is showing up for the after work gathering on Friday. Another guy on POF mentioned grabbing a coffee at some point.
When I arrived home Big D called me. He could sense I was a little dejected and helped bring me out of it, mentioning that perhaps, just perhaps I was overreacting again. Like I was prone to that or something. Then JupiterGirl called and summed it up rather succinctly: “At least he showed up”. God, yeah. How bad would I have felt if he was a no show.
I’m not unhappy. I’m actually quite happy! I’m listening to the Buena Vista Social Club. Two of my friends called me and made me feel good about myself. Lost is on at nine instead of ten tonight (almost as if they knew my date would be a scant 45 minutes and wanted to accommodate my early retirement to bed). I think I am going to smoke a joint. I will totally not understand the plotline on Lost. I will eat a lot of Nilla wafers, and likely some of the Ferrerro Rocher chocolates I have. Yeah, it sucks to be me.
I met up with B at Brioche at 6 o’clock as we had agreed to yesterday. He looked very dapper in his suit. I hate to say it, but men in suits: dead freakin’ sexy. I hate corporate life, I hate corporations, but give me a man in suit and I will… well, I will try and get him out of it.
I had a glass of wine (forgoing the obligatory coffee because for the love of god I am going to sleep tonight). I got there a bit early. I read my Economist. After B showed up he grabbed a coffee and we chatted for a bit and he told me that he was planning on going back to the office to work on his resume, as he had received an interesting job prospect from a recruiter. He said that, as usual, I was inscrutable. He told me I looked tired. Both were likely true. And then after I was done my glass of wine (which took me 45 minutes) he said, “Good work” and we left. He asked how I was getting home and I told him I was taking the bus. He asked how my writing was going, a reference to the “happiness exercise” that resulted in my epiphany moment over the weekend. Laughing, I told him that I had written down my moment of happiness and that I had mailed it to him. He seemed at first surprised and then pleased, and said that he looked forward to reading it. I said I looked forward to trying to beat him to his mailbox so he couldn’t read it.
Then we were standing in front of Harbour Centre and he said he was going to head back down to Waterfront to catch a bus. I said okay and stood there. What was I supposed to offer? Another handshake? Then he leaned in, gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug and told me to get a good night’s sleep. I nodded my consent.
Perplexed and puzzled I wandered over to my bus station. A million thoughts and doubts running through my head. And then I remembered the happiness exercise. Why was I beating myself up? If B wanted to be only friends, then that was fine. What was the loss? Was it comparable to the demise of a six year relationship, replete with a joint bank account? Uh, no. And the possibility did exist that he did want to get home at a reasonable hour to work on his resume to apply for the job and change his career path. What was I lamenting about? I still have a phenomenal week ahead of me: I get to see my engineering buddy tomorrow; I am going out for drinks with some coworkers Friday night; I am going in to White Rock for a poker night on Saturday night. Yeah, life is really sticking it to me. M, my coworker who liberated the robot with the articulated arms for me at the Christmas party, appears to be single again. A guy I had a small crush on that used to work with us is showing up for the after work gathering on Friday. Another guy on POF mentioned grabbing a coffee at some point.
When I arrived home Big D called me. He could sense I was a little dejected and helped bring me out of it, mentioning that perhaps, just perhaps I was overreacting again. Like I was prone to that or something. Then JupiterGirl called and summed it up rather succinctly: “At least he showed up”. God, yeah. How bad would I have felt if he was a no show.
I’m not unhappy. I’m actually quite happy! I’m listening to the Buena Vista Social Club. Two of my friends called me and made me feel good about myself. Lost is on at nine instead of ten tonight (almost as if they knew my date would be a scant 45 minutes and wanted to accommodate my early retirement to bed). I think I am going to smoke a joint. I will totally not understand the plotline on Lost. I will eat a lot of Nilla wafers, and likely some of the Ferrerro Rocher chocolates I have. Yeah, it sucks to be me.
posted by Duder at 8:37 PM
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