Paring down
I know you all want to know what happened with my upstairs neighbour. But you must first bear with me as I take you through my weekend in chronological order. The psychiatrist in "Until I Find You" made the main character recap his recollections that way, and I like John Irving, so we're going to do it that way.
Friday was okay. I was destined to see H but was feeling rather ambivalent about it. I decided that I would break it off and decided to ask a couple of (male) coworkers (one engaged, one single) as to how I should do this. I don't know what the hell I was thinking asking these particular gentlemen, because here is a brief synopsis of our conversation:
Duder: "Um, I'm really not feeling it. I'd like to break it off, but I'm not really good at that kind of thing."
M: "Text him."
Duder: "What? I'm not texting someone to tell them I no longer want to see them."
M: "Why?"
Duder: "What? What? Have you texted someone that you didn't want to see them again? That's horrific!"
M: "That, or email."
Duder: "Jesus Christ. You're an ass."
C: "Tell him you're married."
Duder: "I'm not going to lie. I think you should treat people the way that you feel you ought to be treated."
C: "Tell him you've got to get home to your kids."
Duder: stunned silence
M: "Just text him, what's the worst that can happen? He calls you?"
Duder: "Uh, no. The worst that can happen is that I become someone that dumps people via text."
This conversation continued endlessly, whereupon we returned to the office and M skyped me, asking if I had come up with a good text to send to H yet. I replied that I would not text H. I typed, "you text him" to which M replied "give me his number". I love, I mean I utterly love my coworkers. They are such sodding bastards, and yet they hold the door open for me, nicknamed me "Boots" (because of my black leather boots, which are totally not as sexy as that sounds), and offer to break up with men for me via text.
So Friday I go to "The Improvised Works of William Shakespeare" with H. We have a good time. We go back to his place, make out a little. I think okay, maybe this is alright after all. Maybe I can have a nice little summer romance with this guy. We like to do the same things, we both over analyze this shit out of everything, we love to debate, he's kind of attractive. Sure, why not. As I go to leave he says, "you know you don't have to go". Yeah, well, it's our fourth date so I'm gonna keep my panties on. I go home.
The next day I go to the park, read my book and get burnt. Summer ritual No. 1 complete. Still waiting for word from my neighbour as to dinner on Sunday, but none is forthcoming. I do, however, receive an email from H expressing consternation that I hadn't put out on Friday night. What? It was our fourth date. We didn't even kiss until our third date. I had an animated debate with my good friend C about this tonight. His take? Some guys are going to angle for sex early on, and there's nothing necessarily wrong with that. Okay, I agree with him, but come on. Those of you that know me, which is the more likely scenario on a fourth date with yours truly: I get nekkid for you; I punch you in the eye when you try and put your hand down my pants. I do NOT give out the "I am easy" vibe. I give out the "I will crush your spine" vibe.
Saturday night I go out with Po, R and N to Section 3 in Yaletown for Po's 31st birthday. Yummy food. Then we go to Moxie's where I had the most delectable dessert ever. It was this banana thing in pastry with sugar and cinnamon and caramel and vanilla ice cream. Who needs men? I'm just going to eat good food, jerk off and drink nice wine. Oh wait. I should put that at the end of this blog. At this point I was still in a pretty good mood. Po decides to ask her new beau out to the media club and he says he'll come out. N and I were beside ourselves. I could hardly wait to meet this guy. I figure, why not text H. He says he's still at work, but will try and make it. We go to the Media Club, predominately to see "The Grange", but I was blown away by the preceding band "Race Against the Wind". A fucking plus. I was having a good time listening to the country/bluegrass/rock music. Who knew? The beer helped. Po's beau showed. I likee. He was attractive, funny, engaging and made a concerted effort to endear himself to myself and N. I give him two big thumbs up. He was funny, easy going and... does he have single friends???
H showed up whilst I was in the washroom admiring my burn. I drank more. I danced to a Johnny Cash tune. H and I discussed further the implications of sex on the fourth date. Having spoken to C about it, I realize perhaps I shouldn't get so uptight. A lot of guys are going to try and have sex on the fourth date. And, as he so aptly pointed out, how long did I wait before I jumped in the sack with B? Okay, maybe no so long. But it didn't work out, and I am kind of striving to avoid yet another relationship that doesn't work out.
Okay, so I go home alone. Again.
Sunday. More burning at the park. Waiting, waiting for my neighbour to call. Nothing. I return from the park and his vehicle is gone from the parking stall. I am aghast. I do not want to toot my own horn, but if I was a middle-aged guy that had asked a relatively hot, fit, thirty year old blonde to have dinner with me, and she said yes, I would make sure to follow up on that shit. But no, not this guy. My mom said "maybe he's gay". I don't think so. So at 4:30 I... call Michael. I'm such a shit. I go over to North Van, have a great meal and fantastic time with him. He makes fun of my sunburn, calls me on my shit, buys me dinner, asks me to stay for a movie and gives me a foot rub. I love this man. We had a good laugh because he had bought an iPod Shuffle and there was some music that I had downloaded on one of his computers, which he transferred to his Shuffle. He was like, "uh, are you a big Kanye West fan? Show me your diamonds. Diamonds in the sky,". I clearly laid out that the songs were upbeat and were strictly for running purposes only. Beyonce. Madonna. How did they get there?
So. To recap. I'm in trouble for not having sex on the fourth date. The guy I though was a shoe-in hasn't called. Okay. I give up. C said, "so what do you think you're doing wrong?" and I said I didn't think I was doing anything wrong. I think I'm a pretty decent person. I'm nice. I'm smart. I'm funny.... looking. Maybe I don't run so fast, and sometimes I drink too much and talk smack, but overall I think I'm okay. He concurred, which made me feel pretty good. He also offered to go knock on my neighbour's door and ask him why he hadn't invited me over for dinner, which I adamantly declined but secretly wanted him to go through with.
So that was my weekend. I had a super time on Saturday night with Po and N. I loved the music and I didn't anticipate that I would've loved it, let alone gotten up and danced to it. I had a great time with Michael, which I always do. I felt buoyed and appreciated when C left tonight. I'm getting used to being single. It is what it is. I'm not going to put out on the fourth date. Nor am I going to feel bad about it. When H and the neighbour fizzle I will have no prospects and I'm cool with that. I've got shit going on. I've got books to read, music to download, friends to see, sushi to eat, marathons to run.
I'm good.
Friday was okay. I was destined to see H but was feeling rather ambivalent about it. I decided that I would break it off and decided to ask a couple of (male) coworkers (one engaged, one single) as to how I should do this. I don't know what the hell I was thinking asking these particular gentlemen, because here is a brief synopsis of our conversation:
Duder: "Um, I'm really not feeling it. I'd like to break it off, but I'm not really good at that kind of thing."
M: "Text him."
Duder: "What? I'm not texting someone to tell them I no longer want to see them."
M: "Why?"
Duder: "What? What? Have you texted someone that you didn't want to see them again? That's horrific!"
M: "That, or email."
Duder: "Jesus Christ. You're an ass."
C: "Tell him you're married."
Duder: "I'm not going to lie. I think you should treat people the way that you feel you ought to be treated."
C: "Tell him you've got to get home to your kids."
Duder: stunned silence
M: "Just text him, what's the worst that can happen? He calls you?"
Duder: "Uh, no. The worst that can happen is that I become someone that dumps people via text."
This conversation continued endlessly, whereupon we returned to the office and M skyped me, asking if I had come up with a good text to send to H yet. I replied that I would not text H. I typed, "you text him" to which M replied "give me his number". I love, I mean I utterly love my coworkers. They are such sodding bastards, and yet they hold the door open for me, nicknamed me "Boots" (because of my black leather boots, which are totally not as sexy as that sounds), and offer to break up with men for me via text.
So Friday I go to "The Improvised Works of William Shakespeare" with H. We have a good time. We go back to his place, make out a little. I think okay, maybe this is alright after all. Maybe I can have a nice little summer romance with this guy. We like to do the same things, we both over analyze this shit out of everything, we love to debate, he's kind of attractive. Sure, why not. As I go to leave he says, "you know you don't have to go". Yeah, well, it's our fourth date so I'm gonna keep my panties on. I go home.
The next day I go to the park, read my book and get burnt. Summer ritual No. 1 complete. Still waiting for word from my neighbour as to dinner on Sunday, but none is forthcoming. I do, however, receive an email from H expressing consternation that I hadn't put out on Friday night. What? It was our fourth date. We didn't even kiss until our third date. I had an animated debate with my good friend C about this tonight. His take? Some guys are going to angle for sex early on, and there's nothing necessarily wrong with that. Okay, I agree with him, but come on. Those of you that know me, which is the more likely scenario on a fourth date with yours truly: I get nekkid for you; I punch you in the eye when you try and put your hand down my pants. I do NOT give out the "I am easy" vibe. I give out the "I will crush your spine" vibe.
Saturday night I go out with Po, R and N to Section 3 in Yaletown for Po's 31st birthday. Yummy food. Then we go to Moxie's where I had the most delectable dessert ever. It was this banana thing in pastry with sugar and cinnamon and caramel and vanilla ice cream. Who needs men? I'm just going to eat good food, jerk off and drink nice wine. Oh wait. I should put that at the end of this blog. At this point I was still in a pretty good mood. Po decides to ask her new beau out to the media club and he says he'll come out. N and I were beside ourselves. I could hardly wait to meet this guy. I figure, why not text H. He says he's still at work, but will try and make it. We go to the Media Club, predominately to see "The Grange", but I was blown away by the preceding band "Race Against the Wind". A fucking plus. I was having a good time listening to the country/bluegrass/rock music. Who knew? The beer helped. Po's beau showed. I likee. He was attractive, funny, engaging and made a concerted effort to endear himself to myself and N. I give him two big thumbs up. He was funny, easy going and... does he have single friends???
H showed up whilst I was in the washroom admiring my burn. I drank more. I danced to a Johnny Cash tune. H and I discussed further the implications of sex on the fourth date. Having spoken to C about it, I realize perhaps I shouldn't get so uptight. A lot of guys are going to try and have sex on the fourth date. And, as he so aptly pointed out, how long did I wait before I jumped in the sack with B? Okay, maybe no so long. But it didn't work out, and I am kind of striving to avoid yet another relationship that doesn't work out.
Okay, so I go home alone. Again.
Sunday. More burning at the park. Waiting, waiting for my neighbour to call. Nothing. I return from the park and his vehicle is gone from the parking stall. I am aghast. I do not want to toot my own horn, but if I was a middle-aged guy that had asked a relatively hot, fit, thirty year old blonde to have dinner with me, and she said yes, I would make sure to follow up on that shit. But no, not this guy. My mom said "maybe he's gay". I don't think so. So at 4:30 I... call Michael. I'm such a shit. I go over to North Van, have a great meal and fantastic time with him. He makes fun of my sunburn, calls me on my shit, buys me dinner, asks me to stay for a movie and gives me a foot rub. I love this man. We had a good laugh because he had bought an iPod Shuffle and there was some music that I had downloaded on one of his computers, which he transferred to his Shuffle. He was like, "uh, are you a big Kanye West fan? Show me your diamonds. Diamonds in the sky,". I clearly laid out that the songs were upbeat and were strictly for running purposes only. Beyonce. Madonna. How did they get there?
So. To recap. I'm in trouble for not having sex on the fourth date. The guy I though was a shoe-in hasn't called. Okay. I give up. C said, "so what do you think you're doing wrong?" and I said I didn't think I was doing anything wrong. I think I'm a pretty decent person. I'm nice. I'm smart. I'm funny.... looking. Maybe I don't run so fast, and sometimes I drink too much and talk smack, but overall I think I'm okay. He concurred, which made me feel pretty good. He also offered to go knock on my neighbour's door and ask him why he hadn't invited me over for dinner, which I adamantly declined but secretly wanted him to go through with.
So that was my weekend. I had a super time on Saturday night with Po and N. I loved the music and I didn't anticipate that I would've loved it, let alone gotten up and danced to it. I had a great time with Michael, which I always do. I felt buoyed and appreciated when C left tonight. I'm getting used to being single. It is what it is. I'm not going to put out on the fourth date. Nor am I going to feel bad about it. When H and the neighbour fizzle I will have no prospects and I'm cool with that. I've got shit going on. I've got books to read, music to download, friends to see, sushi to eat, marathons to run.
I'm good.
posted by Duder at 10:26 PM
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