Sunday, February 24, 2008

I am in an emotional cal-de-sac.

I need to go on a date.

It has officially been so long that I now would rather go on a bad date than no date at all.  If nothing else, just to prove to myself that I'd rather it be the other way around.  I need to mix it up.  Every guy that I've met in the last 6 months that is crush-worthy either proved to be otherwise or taken.  Seriously - I am wildly popular with guys with girlfriends/fiancees.  I think it's because I am reasonably cute and flirtatious, yet non-threatening.  The girlfriends like me too.

 

Case in point:  just before Christmas, I met someone who I had seen every day, and who had made pointed eye contact.  Labmate characterized him as "the kind of guy I can see you dating."  And, as much as I hate to admit it, she was TOTALLY right.  I am not making this up - I decided that yeah, he is My League.  He's not out of it, and not below it, he IS It.  But, he is engaged.  And I've met his fiancee, and I want to hang out with her because she is mad cool and rather like myself.  Which just proves the hypothesis at hand.

 

Remember a little while ago when I mentioned a possible new crush on the horizon?  Well, said human being finally asked me to do something after two months since our last get-together.  The last get-together was at my house, and he stayed all of 90 minutes.  There was mistletoe.  I stood under it for a good 3-4 minutes, chatting, while dinner was cooking.  He didn't take the bait.  Had he been interested, he would have taken advantage of that opportunity.  So, fine, whatever.  We're friends and all.  We went to a movie last week, and when I got home that night, I realized that I had spent the entire evening listening to his opinions on...well...nearly everything.  And only once had he asked me mine.  Now, to be fair, most of the opinions were on things that I don't really feel informed enough to express one of my own on - this year's Academy Award nominees...Canadian history...Canadian literature...but still.  Every time I see him, he makes a point of looking at the book I am carrying, yet he never feels the need to ask WHY I am reading that book, or what it means to me...he's perfectly content being appalled by the fact that I've never read any Margaret Atwood or Douglas Copland.  Dude - Margaret Atwood just ain't my style.  And Douglas Copland...well, he's Canadian.  And there are about a zillion American and British authors with similar sensibilities that, quite frankly, I've heard of a hell of a lot sooner than I ever heard of Douglas Copland.  Nothing against him, but, hell, I'll get to it when and if I get to it.  Meanwhile, you're an English teacher, and the only book you read during the bulk of your summer break was the latest Harry Potter. 

 

So yeah, not really feeling the crush at the moment.  But who knows, it may come back, so please don't use this entry against me later.

 

Unfortunately, in recent weeks, the VGLM has resurfaced. 

 

I've been thinking about him a lot lately.  I thought I had put it behind me, but...well...no.  I haven't.  Even a little bit.  When there's not something else new and exciting to distract me, I realize that he's talking to me more than he used to.  And for some reason, he feels comfortable sharing really personal details with me. 

And he's still Very Good Looking.

After having spent a Friday night binge drinking with a group that included two of his Very Good Looking (yet very, very much engaged) labmates, I ran into one of them on Monday morning as I was getting off of the subway.  So we walked in to work together, making small talk about what an ass we'd made of ourselves a few days ago.  We got off of the elevator, and walked right past the VGLM.

He noticed.

A couple of days later, I was talking to the other one.  Probably about the very same aforementioned ass-making. 

He noticed that too.

I can't help but take a little bit of petty pleasure in that.

 

But, at the same time, whenever I feel the longing for a Really Good Snuggle, I can't help but think about the time that I forcibly snuggled him.  Because it's the only time in recent memory I've felt someone snuggle back.  I need a good snuggle.  I deserve a good snuggle.  An episode of Sex and the City just made me cry because of the way Steve looked at Miranda.

I realized when I came home around New Year's that if I had to pick one way to describe my attitude towards love, it would be "ripe for the picking."  I may have a lot of crushes, and the primary target of my attention may skip around from day to day or week to week, but that's only because I am SO ready to fall in love it hurts sometimes.  It won't take much - just a little positive encouragement, a couple of good dates, a few meaningful looks of adoration - and I'll be gone.  And re-reading that, the feminist in me is screaming and threatening to put on her combat boots and cargo pants.  Girls aren't supposed to say things like that - it makes us look like the vulnerable little things that we all are deep inside.

 

But I'm clearly in a repeating loop here.  So either one of the old crushes or someone completely new needs to take me out on a date.  Give me an excuse to get all dressed up.  I'm begging you - my good shoes need to be taken out for a walk.  Otherwise, they're just going to get cranky and piddle on the floor to spite me.

 

And, for what it's worth, I hear I'm a good kisser.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Atwood? I would rather watch a 24 hour musical marathon that included intermissions of interpretive dance. I can't comment on Coupland as I've never read any of his work, and I doubt I ever will.
Leave the boots and cargo pants in the closet. There is nothing wrong with saying you want someone in your life to share the highs and lows with. There is also nothing wrong in expressing how much you want it.
The one thing I'm good at is finding a reason to dress up. You probably won't meet anyone if you're out with me, but at least you can get dressed up if you want to.