[Dating Papers]

Never, ever, for as long as I live will I understand men. Went to the ball game with Sailor. Had a great time. Talked too much. He offered to pay for his ticket. I refused. Instead he bought me a beer and a hot dog. After, he invited me over to his place for a drink. As soon as we walked in he started straightening up, putting away papers and apologizing for the mess (my freshly cleaned apartment is chaos compared to his place). We had water and I told an impossibly long story about an ancient historical boyfriend. We said goodbye after an hour since we both had other obligations. He said he had a good time and we should do it again.

I’m sure it means he was raised to be polite and asking me over was reciprocation for my invitation to the game. But, dude, you need to give up that girlfriend info. You’re killing me. Clearly, friendship is all that is on offer and that’s swell but, oh, geez, this is not the easiest situation in the world.

He still makes me nervous. What is wrong with me?

I’m quite glad to be heading out of town tomorrow. It will be a great trip.

Grateful for: plans.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned kickball for a while. As you may recall, I hate kickball. Yet, I’ve joined a team for the late summer. I’ll miss the first two games due to the Israel trip but oh well.

The main reason I’m on a kickball team is that I mentioned kickball to work friend, Nina, in passing and she got very excited. I told her if she wanted to do it, I’d do it with her.

The other reason is that Nina mentioned kickball to Sailor and he was also interested.

I also mentioned it to my new officemate, Pete, who was on a kickball team. He invited us to join the new team his housemate is organizing.

We all signed up. So far, so good.

Pete’s housemate sent an email suggesting a pre-season happy hour for last night. I wasn’t sure if I’d make it, since I’m trying to get things done around the house. Nina emailed yesterday and told me she was going. In fact, Sailor had emailed her about going. He asked her, she asked me, and we all went.

Farce!

More farcical is that when we got to the happy hour location, it wasn’t there. Closed, apparently. I called Pete, who was meeting us later, and let him know. We met Pete as we were walking to another bar and the four of us went for a drink and some dinner.

Again, so far, so good. I’m a little leery of Sailor by now because he didn’t follow up on the baseball game (he’s going, but I had to confirm). He may be fine with being friends, but that’s it. I’m slightly mystified because we get along extremely well.

We found ourselves at a very crowded downtown place. It was tough to talk in more than pairs, so while we stood at the bar waiting for drinks, I talked to Sailor and Nina talked to Pete. Later, when we sat down to eat, I talked to Pete and Nina talked to Sailor.

And, during the time I was talking to Pete, I overheard a snippet of conversation between Nina and Sailor. Nina said, “Oh, so how often do you go?”

“Probably we see each other every two weeks or so.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s in [inaudible] practice up there…”

I couldn’t join their conversation and I had to go back to paying attention to Pete but I finally figured out what the problem with Sailor is: he has a girlfriend in NY. Story of my life! No, really, it is. Tom, my grad school boyfriend, had a girlfriend in NY. A guy I made out with in Ann Arbor had a girlfriend in NY. Well, that’s all I can think of, but still! It’s a horrible, horrible pattern.

Ok, maybe not a horrible pattern, but certainly a good explanation. And while he’s still lame for not getting back to me about the baseball game and not managing to let me know he had a girlfriend (super lame!), this knowledge leaves me feeling relieved. I’ve decided he didn’t tell me because he wants to be friends but things got terribly awkward and he didn’t want to lead me on because he sort of likes me too…or something like that.

It crossed my mind to subtly give him a hard time about it—but I won’t. Not just because I can’t figure out something clever, but because I don’t want to be mean.

It’s frustrating that he’s not available, though, because we are entirely on the same wavelength and that’s rare. Also, he’s incredibly smart. Way smarter than average. He is quick and sharp and doesn’t miss anything. His interactions with Pete made this very clear. Pete is plenty smart but extremely earnest. Subtle humor is lost on him.

For example, Nina asked Pete, “So why did you want to work for [our federal agency]?”

“I just loved the mission statement!”

Sailor said, “Really? What did you like about it? I wrote it.”

Pete gives Sailor a blank look but keeps smiling. “I can’t remember, but I loved it!”

I said to Sailor, “Oh, c’mon, you haven’t been working at [our agency] that long either!”

He said, “Oh, I wrote it before I started working there.”

All I’m saying is that we would make a great comedy team.

When Pete stepped away, I said to Sailor, “You can’t do that deadpan humor with Pete, he doesn’t get it.”

“I noticed! Did you see the look on his face when I made that joke about the mission statement? I’m trying to hold back.”

He even has self-awareness! Awesome. Too bad he’s lame and coupled.

And, as usual, we’re moving on…

Grateful for: knowledge.

Let’s talk about happy things, shall we? My weekend was lovely. I didn’t exactly have a plan, but I worked up a pretty good one. The fun started on Friday. I met a friend for drinks/dinner at a bar kinda in my neighborhood. This is a new friend and she was gracious enough to 1) pick me up at work 2) drive us to the bar and 3) drop me home at the end of the evening. Now that’s a good friend! A friendly bartender who works at this bar who I sort of know–at least to say hello to–we’ve been introduced at least once and I know his name, but I assume he doesn’t know mine. (He figures in the story later.)



On Saturday, I put a few things were on the agenda: movies, coffee shop, reading, and a bike ride. I took a while making my plan. I sort of need a plan to move forward. The plan can be modified but I need it as a starting point. The first element in the plan was a movie. I wanted to see Paris Je T’aime and it was only playing at two theaters. I decided I’d bike there, but stop for coffee first. The plan came together: bike to the new coffee shop, from there to Dupont. Take the metro from Dupont to Bethesda and see the 1:45 show. Have ice cream after. Bike home via the Capital Crescent Trail. It’s a long ride (for me), but all down hill except for the last few miles from Georgetown to my house. The metro leg of the ride gave me more coffee shop time and ensured I’d have enough energy to actually enjoy the movie, not to mention not stinking up the place.



I didn’t bring my computer and instead read a book (shocking! it’s all blogs and magazines these days) for about half an hour. On the ride to Dupont, I stopped by my favorite upscale, hipster home-goods store, Home Rule, on 14th Street and picked up a couple of less expensive items (mini-cutting board, paring knife and present for Mom). I don’t bike over there very often but it is close and easy. Maybe I’ll start riding to the U Street vicinity more often.



I got on the metro and found myself in the company of two other cyclists. We didn’t talk much but it was nice not being the only one. When I got off the train, the conductor called out to me, “I like your bike! What kind is it?” I told him and he said, “I like the seat and the handlebars–and the fenders! It’s got a real classic look.” I thanked him and said those were all things I’d added to the bike. I patted the saddle and said, “That’s a real Brooks leather saddle.” (Just the other day a cab driver called out to me, “Nice bike!” First time I’ve ever gotten a kind word from a cabbie while riding.)



I got to the theater just at show time, which was perfect. I liked the movie, which is a bunch of vignettes by different directors. Some were stinkers and others were quite good. Mostly, I enjoyed seeing all the Paris scenery. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d like to live in a garret in Paris and write. I mused on how much money it would take to live there for a year. Sure, not speaking a word of French might be a problem, but I could learn. It’s not the first time I’ve had this fantasy and it’s not so fantastic that I couldn’t do it–sell the condo, take a leave of absence from work, go to Paris–it’s imaginable. But why Paris? I have no idea. I asked myself–why not London or Barcelona? As much as I love both of those places, it’s Paris that makes my
fantasy sing. Maybe it’s because of all those great ex-pat Americans who wrote there: Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Dos Passos. Maybe part of the charm of such a fantasy is not completely understanding it. I have been to Paris twice and it’s a beautiful place. Also, the best pain au chocolate in the world may be found there.



After the movie, I had some ice cream, per the plan. I sat on a bench and found myself in casual conversation with an older (than me) couple. Deciding I’d sufficiently digested the ice cream, I started the ride home. It was easy going, mostly downhill and shaded on the trail. When I hit Georgetown, there was more up and down and more sun, but I still enjoyed the ride. As I got closer to home, and hotter, I thought it would be a good idea to stop for a beer. It was around 5:30pm and I stopped at one of the bars on Penn SE, in my old neighborhood. I ordered a beer and watched some baseball while I drank it.



It turned out, the friendly bartender from Friday was at the bar and he came up and said hello. I said, “I don’t know if I’m following you or you’re following me.” He laughed and asked if we’d stayed out late on Friday. I said, “If you count 10 o’clock as late!” We chatted a little before and he went back to sit with his friends at the corner of the bar. I continued drinking my beer slowly and pulled out my book.



About half an hour later, the working bartender said, “[Friendly bartender] bought you the next beer. Do you want it now or do you want to wait until you finish that one?”



I was only about halfway through my current beer so I told him I’d wait. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it was very nice. I drank up and then told the bartender I was ready. A few sips into my new beer, I wondered if it was ok to go sit with the Friendly Bartender (FB). I thought, “He bought me a beer, so it’s probably ok.” Feeling slightly tipsy, I went and sat with FB and his friends, who were also friendly (and a little drunk, loud and obnoxious). I thanked FB and he didn’t blink at my arrival. The other guy in the group bought us all shots (of some decent whiskey) and I drank one. This was way more than I’d planned to drink on Saturday. The plan was one drink, then home to do some housework. But, see, I’m flexible! And if I have to stay out drinking with friendly men (and one woman), I will.



FB left, unceremoniously, about 8pm. He gave me a kiss on the cheek when he said goodbye. I hung out with his friends for another 15 or 20 minutes before riding slowly home. I made myself a sandwich, watched a dvd and then went to bed. No housework for me. Altogether, it was a pretty fantastic Saturday. (If you’re keeping track, I rode about 16 miles total.)



Sunday, well, it was more pedestrian, but it included more avoidance of housework and the completion of the tremendously long final post about jury duty. Oh, and a last minute blind date. Yeah, I could write more about that. The guy was nice and completely inappropriate for me. (Not an asshole, just too much craziness in his life.) He wants to see me again. All I did with that was buy myself some trouble I didn’t need. I confirmed, however, that I am awesome and anyone who doesn’t see it (I mean you, Sailor), isn’t worth my time.

Grateful for: my plans.

Dear readers, you may be wondering where the dating has gone in this here dating blog. It’s not one of those very rare (and usually) brief moments where I’m keeping my dating activities to myself. There are simply no dating activities to report.

The last discussion on this topic was about “Sailor,” the work fella I have an enormous crush on. Nothing has changed. I still have a crush but we’re no more or less friends than before our one and only, apparently nonromantic, date.

However, I’m going to spend a little time talking about Sailor and his significance in my romantic life. Before he came on the scene, which was right after the phase out of Kansas, and during the time of my few dates with Kenny (mostly not written about), I was feeling dull and flat romantically. That wasn’t a bad thing. I wasn’t feeling lonely or desperate. I was flattered by Kenny’s attentions and proud of myself for ending things so cleanly with Kansas. I was feeling good about not feeling anything much.

I’m feeling that way again and it’s odd. I’m so used to obsessing given the slightest provocation or opportunity. When I wrote my blue post about Sailor, I’d say I was obsessing about him, slightly. But I as I predicted, the blues were gone in about two days. And what did I do about Sailor? Not nothing, but close. I invited him to see Shawn’s play. Sailor declined politely. He didn’t invite me to anything else and I didn’t invite him to anything else—until yesterday.

I went two weeks with no contact with Sailor. No contact and no obsessing about someone on whom I possibly have the biggest crush of my life. It’s just…not like me.

I’ll get back to the contact we had yesterday in a minute, but I want to tell a little story about me and obsessing first.

I wondered recently if I wait to obsess until after the first physical contact. Not surprisingly, the answer is “no.” I can obsess immediately after the first good evening with someone. I did just that a few years ago about my then-future boyfriend, “Jeff.”

I met Jeff about five years ago when I went to a play with Pele and a bunch of her friends. Actually, most of the people there were friends of a friend of Pele’s, meaning lots of strangers. One of those strangers was Jeff. As soon as the play was over, we gravitated towards each other and spent the rest of the evening occupied in lively conversation. We exchanged numbers long before the end of the night. I was very happy and sure that I’d be hearing from Jeff soon.

But I didn’t hear from him soon. I waited and waited for him to call. He didn’t call. I obsessed. The decision whether or not to call him was a major distraction from everything else in my life, including work and a weekend trip to New York. Eventually, I called him and left a message. He returned my call (a couple of days later!) and we made a date. Not long after that we were a couple. The relationship lasted three or four months. Jeff is a super sweet guy and I don’t regret dating him, but I think I made the relationship happen through force of will. Not that Jeff didn’t like me. No, the problem was more that I didn’t like Jeff–enough. But because I’m always looking for a boyfriend, always wanting a boyfriend, always hoping for a boyfriend, I got myself a boyfriend. Or something like that. (Caveat: I’m not at all sure what story Jeff would tell. I sincerely liked him and would have been happy to maintain a friendship, after a few months break, but he wasn’t interested.)

Clearly, I obsessed over Tim and Owen. Not so much over Kansas, though. I didn’t count that as progress, though, since the whole thing was so misguided. Perhaps I didn’t give myself enough credit.

Ok, back to Sailor. At work, we recently got a bunch of new software, including MS Outlook (we had Lotus Notes before) and MS Office Communicator, which is an intranet instant messaging client. Previously, we had no instant messaging capacity at all, and we still can’t use internet IM clients.

I’ve had access to the IM thingy for weeks and weeks, but not everyone else did. I’ve only used it so far to chat with one person and not about work. Now, when you add someone as a “contact” the program sends a message to that person. Earlier this week, I got just such a message from Sailor. I was pleased. While it would be fun to speculate on all the reasons he might have added me (true love, perhaps?), the main message is that he regards me as a friend.

However, he never did send me a message. More surprisingly, perhaps, I never sent him a message either. Don’t think I wasn’t tempted. But there was no particular message to send and I figured he’d get in touch with me if he felt like it. He didn’t, and I didn’t either, so no contact.

The next part of the story you’ve heard before—each year I get four pairs of Nationals tickets through a season ticket sharing plan at work. Each year, I have trouble using all four pairs and/or finding companions to the games. My last pair of tickets for this year is the day before I leave for Israel. Ideally, I’d sell the tickets. My second choice was to have Pele come with me to the game if I couldn’t sell them. But Pele can’t back me up because she may be out of town that day.

I occurred to me that I could ask Sailor to the game. He likes baseball and we’d talked about going to a game sometime. Or at least I’d suggested it and he seemed receptive. Yesterday afternoon, I finally decided I’d see if he wanted to go. If he did, I’d stop trying to sell the tickets. It’s only inconvenient for me to go because, ideally, I’d keep the day before I leave free. However, my flight isn’t until 6pm, so it’s not really a problem.

I thought I’d invite Sailor over the IM thingy. But, by the time I’d worked up the nerve to contact him, he was gone. Not just “away” but “offline.” Oh well.

When I left work at 7pm and started to walk home. I thought, “I’ll just call him. I have his cell number, so why the hell not?” The idea of calling made me nervous, though. I told myself, “You don’t have to call him, you don’t have to do anything. But I want to call him. What harm will it do? Worst case, he can’t go. That’s it.”

I called him. He didn’t answer and I didn’t leave a message. I continued my walk and put in me headphones to listen to the ipod. Then a curious thing happened, my phone rang. It was Sailor. He said, “Hi, Jamy? Sorry, I was on the other line when you called.”

“Oh, no problem.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” And I proceeded to chit-chat about a variety of things unrelated to the baseball game. I felt a little crazy as I did it but he was amiable and the conversation was pleasant. Eventually, though, I got to the point and I asked him if he was free to go to the game. His answer was an enthusiastic “Yes!” I even over-explained about wanting to sell the tickets and how hard it is to find people to go to games and how Pele would go but she’s often out of town and how funny is it that on Monday we have tickets to the SAME game and can’t even back each other up. Uh, yeah, it was almost that bad.

But I caught myself getting a little out of control on the nervous talking and ending the conversation soon afterwards—the total time was about 20 minutes. He said there is a slight chance he’ll be out of town, but he’ll let me know for sure next week. He said he probably wasn’t going to be out of town two or three times—maybe he really wants to go to the game?

It would appear I have another date (“date”?) with Sailor. I don’t quite know what to make of it…and, well, I haven’t tried to make anything of it, at least not yet. I’ve been working like crazy trying to rewrite that awful (awful!) report and this business with Sailor and our future plans and his constant IM presence hasn’t distracted me at all. I don’t get it. Am I really as mature as I seem? Am I dead inside? Or is this what “normal” people feel when they like someone but have almost no information to go on—do they just calmly wait and see? Well, normal or not, my behavior indicates calm wait and see-ness.

It’s really not like me. What a relief.

Grateful for: the calm.

What a difference a day makes.

When I last wrote about Sailor, I was feeling good. Not anxious, not worried, not rushed.

Today, I feel sad. I spent yesterday out of the office, with my brother from Israel (B2). We did our usual…a little shopping for the kids, a slice of Kosher pizza and lots of talking as I drove him to where he needed to be. We get along well, we had a nice time, but when I got back home I was so beat, I could barely move. I managed to talk on the phone, eat some dinner and watch tv, but writing or exercising was out of the question.

Work was fine today. Moderately busy with meetings and other miscellaneous tasks. (I spent a pitiful 15 minutes reading that damn report—contest winners announced sometime later this week.) But as the day has worn on, I’ve felt lower and lower. No word from Sailor, nor any expectation of one, yet the hope that was there is fading.

I am sad, but the other guy who I’ve had several dates with recently, Kenny, has been calling, so maybe I should be happy. I want to be happy. I want the fellow that is showing interest to be the one who I want. But he’s not and it makes me sad. And I feel shallow and guilty about it. Oy.

Maybe it was better just last week when I didn’t feel any of this but I did feel happy and comfortable in the life I’ve carved out for myself. I want to stop wanting something else because it’s so painfully disappointing when it doesn’t happen.

I told the story of my “date” with Sailor to Pele and CK and they were encouraging. But when I mentioned to my mom and Nancy that he declined to walk me home, they both had the same reaction, “That’s bad.” Nancy even went as far to say, “I’m done with Sailor.”

Sigh. I guess I’m still sighing about him, but for a different reason.

(Aside: the opinions of my friends and mother may have more to do with them than the particular situation. Pele can be counted on to agree with what ever premise I put out there, unless it’s particularly outrageous. To her credit, she was always discouraging about Kansas. Her disapproval was palpable (and appropriate)—a first for us, I’d say. CK is similar but tends to express fewer opinions, unless it’s clear the guy is no good. Nancy always expresses opinions but tends to be a bit harsher and more realistic than Pele. Mom can be counted on to see the worst case no matter what. Thus, it’s not surprising that when I told a happy story to Pele and CK, they had positive reactions and when I told a happy story to Mom she saw something negative. When I told Nancy the story today, and it was still a happy story, even though I was feeling sad, it was most interesting that she zeroed in on exactly the same thing as Mom. That is unusual.)

It’s funny, I think I may come through this sad feeling prepared to be friends with him. That would be good. I’m also prepared not to be friends. But it was fun and happy to think it could be more. Of course, that is still a faint possibility but if the potential were there, I don’t think I’d be this bummed out. The gut is speaking and it’s usually right. In terms of action, I won’t take any, but if I hear from Sailor, that would be mighty fine.

Onward.

Grateful for: chances.

I want to write a couple of posts that I haven’t quite been able to muster up the energy to complete. The number one thing I want to do is to give the final summary of my jury duty experience. It’s not so much that I think you, the readers, care, but I promised myself I’d do it and I haven’t. Yet every time I sit down to write it, the energy drains and I distract myself with other things.

Today, I got around to writing up a couple of short movie reviews (click here to read them). It’s something I always promise myself to do, to write impressions of films I watch, but I have a hard time getting around to it. Avoiding writing the one thing pushed me to do the other–that’s something. I’m going to try and crank out the last jury duty post tonight and I’ll put it up some time this week.

Tomorrow, I’m going to Baltimore to see my brother, B2, the one who lives in Israel (he’s in town for business). Yesterday, I managed to find a dress to wear to my niece’s wedding. The dress shopping was challenging because, to meet the Ultra-Orthodox dress code, it has to have a high neck, long sleeves and fall to at least mid-calf. I found a dress of the right length, and if I wear a long sleeve shirt under it, it meets the other requirements. I even found the right “under” shirt and Pele came over to check out the combo and it got her stamp of approval. So, I have my plane ticket, my outfit and I’m ready to go (at the end of July).

Not sure what B2 and I will do tomorrow, but we’ll figure something out. Oddly, the guy I went out with on Friday grew up in the part of Baltimore where I’m meeting B2. The guy helped me figure out some kosher activities. His first idea was a hike, which I rejected on B2’s behalf, but it was a good suggestion. I think a walk in a park might work, though.

I admit it, I’m stalling. I’ll tell you something about my date. His blog name will be “Sailor,” but he is not a sailor (as far as I know). We work together, but not in the same office or even on the same floor. We have occasional professional contact. I first met him via a mutual (work) friend. We’d only socialized outside of work one other time before Friday and that was a group event. We’ve had several friendly non-work phone conversations and chats in the office, so I knew we’d get along well (we did).

I’ve known Sailor for six months and he’s made me nervous for at least five months. It was my nervousness that tipped me off to my crush. Nothing happened on our date to diminish my crush, though it is more reality based than before, which is good. He’s not exactly as I imagined him–he’s actually more likeable. At the end of the date, we had a mild disagreement about whether I should take a cab home (he wanted me to) or walk. I insisted on walking and he asked me to call when I got home, which I did. When I called, he apologized for being pushy about the cab. I like that he was concerned and I like that he respected my decision to walk home.

I’m not terribly worried about where things are going with Sailor, which puzzles me. Aren’t I usually an anxious mess right about now when I get closer to someone I like? Don’t I need to know immediately when I’ll see him again? Or does that not happen until after the first physical contact? For now, we’re still in the friends zone. Maybe that’s where we’ll stay, but I hope not. I was walking along today, remembering a bit of our conversation from Friday, and I sighed. In fact, almost every time I think about Sailor I sigh. That’s right, I’m walking around, thinking about a boy and sighing.

Sigh.

Grateful for: hope.

I have a date tonight. I am nervous. Very nervous. Maybe it’s a not a date. Well, it’s a date because we have a plan. It’s a date because I like him. It might not be a “date” because who knows if he has anything other than friendly intentions. That’s fine. Friendly is good. I’d be happy to have friendly. Right, sure I would.

What I really want to know, though is: hair–up or down?

Grateful for: feelings.

I meant to get ahead on work this weekend, but that didn’t happen. Well, it sort of happened. I wrote maybe half a page of notes on the document I was trying to finish reading and incorporated them into a final write-up this morning. That was something. I really don’t like to work on the weekends. Perhaps I don’t really like to work at all…however, when it’s my own laziness that’s causing me to miss deadlines, I will make a token effort to work on the weekend. And that’s exactly what I did.



The trip to Ann Arbor went well. I had my usual nostalgic flashes, which I would write about except that I covered all that in my previous post on the topic last year.



On my way home, I talked to my “date” (who shall from now on be known as “Kenny”) and made plans for Sunday. Yep, we were both too busy to do anything on Saturday. I had all that work to do–and the baseball game in the evening.



Once home on Friday, I received a series of texts from my buddy, PW. Drunk texting! I was flattered to be the object of such attention, non-romantic though
it was. He emailed in the morning and we ended up going to Ikea together so I could return the comforter (mission accomplished, no questions asked). The Ikea trip took up a good chunk of the day and I needed to rest (or knit) a little when I got home. So much for working.



I wrote a whole angsty post about the “date” with the “ex” but now my take on the whole thing is “eh.” We had a good time together. He wants to be friends. He doesn’t realize that the reason he wants to be friends is that he likes the attention he gets from me. He likes being around someone who “likes” him. I don’t want to be friends with him because we are never getting back together and spending time with him is seriously bittersweet. I got exactly what I wanted out of the evening, though: a pleasant time and the precise knowledge I needed to keep him out of my life. No more nostalgia on that end. Amusingly (?), Kenny called twice (to modify our Sunday plans) while I was out with the ex–once during the bike ride to the stadium and once during the bike ride home. I called him back after the second time.



On Sunday morning, I was in the mood for diner-fare and I got up early-ish and rode my bike to the neighborhood place. It was absolutely the worst food I’ve ever had there. I opted for the simple “two eggs and bacon” breakfast. Because the eggs are always slightly undercooked, I asked for them over medium. Not only were they not medium, the whites were still clear in places. The bacon was also underdone and the toast was buttered to within an inch of its life. Ugh. Besides all that, it is overpriced–$7+ for incorrectly cooked eggs and coffee. I’m never going there again. So sad. After, I went to another coffee shop and tried, again, to get my work reading done. I was mildly successful.



The last item on the agenda was to meet my friend, Katrin, who is visiting from Holland (she’s here for work). We planned to meet at her hotel, walk to the mall and have dinner later. Kenny was going to meet us at the museum. Our plans were a little stymied by the constant mild/heavy rain, though she was prepared with a slicker and an umbrella (she’s from Holland after all!). We had a pleasant time and it was cool that Kenny went out of his way to meet us. He only hung around for about an hour and a half before familial duty called. Makes me appreciate being rather far away from all of my immediate family.



The time with Katrin was nice but a little awkward. I’m friends with her because I’ve known her boyfriend since I was 21 and made a trip to Europe on my own after college. Piet and I met in a crowded room in a pensione in Barcelona. We were both there for about two weeks. After the first few days, where we got to know each other in a group context, we spent every day together. Every evening we’d go out for dinner, drinking or dancing. We became good friends and we’ve stayed in touch ever since. We used to write letters regularly, then email, and then nothing really. Even though we don’t stay in as close contact as we used to, there is an understanding that we’re still friends. Piet will always send me a post card from his summer travels or include me in group emails from the road (even when they were in Dutch!). When his daughter was born last year, I received a birth announcement. I’ve seen him a few times in the states–he came to visit me in Chapel Hill my first year there and stayed for a week (a looong time in CH). I’ve been to see him in Holland twice in the last ten years–and that’s when I met Katrin. They were living together and I stayed with them for a couple of days on each visit. (I also spent time in Amsterdam on both trips.) Katrin and Piet were here in DC for several days about five years ago and they stayed with me. The most remarkable thing about that visit was the way they unselfconsciously gallivanted around my tiny studio apartment in their underwear. (No, she wasn’t topless.) It was fun, though, and the three of us got along better than I expected. That is, I expected to get along with Piet, but I wasn’t so sure about Katrin. Luckily, it worked out well.



However, Katrin and I still don’t know each other very well. She’s in DC for business for a few days and sent me an email about getting together last week. Oddly, Piet is coming to visit me next weekend. I guess she’s going to New York after her business is done, meeting Piet, then going home. After she goes home, he’ll come here and stay with me. I’m glad Katrin’s not the jealous type! I admit, I’m looking forward to the alone-time with Piet. Not that we won’t spend time with my friends, too. But the opportunity to have a long one-on-one conversation with him is rare. I’m also looking forward to seeing the baby pictures of his daughter, which Katrin didn’t bring. Her words, “I’m a terrible mother!” I don’t agree but it’s funny not to carry a single picture of your kid. Piet is a big hobby photographer, though, so I figure she’s left the photo-taking and carrying responsibilities to him.



It was a long weekend, that’s for sure, full of emotional moments but a lot of calm ones too. I haven’t talked about this much but I feel like I’ve made a lot of progress dealing with the bad-news men in my life. I’m seeing things with a clarity that I lacked in the past. You could argue it was foolish, for example, to get involved with Kansas even a tiny bit (I won’t disagree), but the limits I put on my involvement with him and the way I got out–it was unusual for me. And with the ex this weekend–it felt like great progress. While I was with him, I was a little drawn in, but since waking up on Sunday morning I haven’t been tempted to call or email–not even to explain why I don’t want to be friends. I don’t have anything left to say to him. And while I don’t know what’s going to happen with Kenny, I like him and I like that I’m not feeling anxious or rushed.What ever happens, happens, and I’m just enjoying the ride.

Grateful for: old friends.

I’m totally useless at work today. Instead of taking a big chunk out of the tasks on my plate, I’m doing dumb things like ordering CDs I’ll never listen to and infinitely delaying getting lunch even though I’m hungry.

I’ve half written a post on the details of the trial, but, boy, is it boring. The process? Great. The details? Tedious. I promised myself I’d do it, but I’m putting it off for at least another day.

I had a fantastically eventful and fun week and weekend, which included:
Monday–softball
Tuesday–rowing
Wednesday–salsa dancing (with date)
Thursday–rowing
Friday–dinner/drinks (with friends)
Saturday–dinner/movie/drinks (with date)

Sunday–movie/dinner/drinks (with friends)
Monday–Ikea/cookout (with friends)

I also baked cupcakes (for the cookout) and did assorted household tasks. I knitted a tiny bit but limited sessions to ten or fifteen minutes to preserve my shoulder, which, unfortunately, still hurts. I’m back on the drug regime and plan to take the week off from all shoulder-intensive activities (such as rowing). Hopefully some serious rest will make a dent in the pain. It’s a little easier to rest a shoulder than a knee or a foot, but not as easy as I’d like it to be. I don’t want to rest it at all, but if I don’t rest it now, it may get a lot worse…

But you don’t want to hear about all that now, do you? Possibly you’d like to hear about my trip to Ikea? I went to Ikea for three reasons: Ikea lunch, “Tupperware,” and a summer-weight down comforter. I had success on all three counts, and a few others, which was a fine and expected consequence of going to Ikea. However, that summer-weight comforter turned out to be synthetic, not down. It was in the down section. I carefully read the description of the comforter up above and it said it was down. I picked one from that section—not the section with the synthetic-fill comforters—but somehow I failed to scrutinize the label. I unpacked it at home and just after I tore of the “do not remove under penalty of law” tag, I realized it was NOT a down comforter. Argh! Can I still return it after ripping off that tag? And how does Ikea manage to defeat me so consistently?

Oh, wait, maybe you actually wanted to hear about my dates. I can’t say much, because to do so would violate my one and only fundamental rule: don’t write about dates with guys who read the blog. Since I met this particular fellow at a blogger-type function and he was introduced to me by my blogger name, I won’t go into much detail. I will tell you this: we had a good time, he apparently enjoys listening to my stories (note to self: give him a chance to talk), and I expect we’ll see each other again–at least I hope we will.

(Aside: things with Kansas have stayed over. I’ve heard not one peep from him after our final email exchange last week. The days of needing to remember to silence the phone before bedtime are over, thank goodness.)

I also spent some time this weekend with the fellows, Hap and Sam, I met a couple of weeks ago at a neighborhood bar. The events were of the group variety and may go some way to expanding my circle of friends. A lot of my DC friends have moved on and others have packed schedules or significant others. It’s hard to find time to see them more than once or twice a month. I need a larger group of friends to draw on. As we all know, it is hard to meet people outside of the normal routine of work. You’d think I’d make friends rowing, but that hasn’t really happened. I have some modest hopes that Hap’s group may yield some new friends. He is not transient, which is a big plus. If I get hooked into the group, I’ll get invites from people other than Hap. I made friends with a big group my first summer in DC and it worked out well in the short-term, but those friendships didn’t have staying power. That might happen here too, but I’m willing to give it a try.

To wrap up: my shoulder still hurts and knitting and rowing are on hold while I rest it. After the craziness of last week, I will try and take this week slower so I don’t burn out. Ikea defeated me. I had a couple of dates and hope to have (at least) a couple more. I hung out with some old friends and some potential new friends. Not bad, if I do say so myself.

Grateful for: new friends.

That last post was kind of depressing so let’s move on to happier, or at least more amusing, topics.



Last night, I went to a blogger happy hour. (Why are the happy hours always scheduled the same week? Why?) It was a small but convivial group. I was a little out of it–yesterday was a day of minor discoordination. I spilled things, though not usually on myself. I went to the gym but only did the most rudimentary of work-outs before I decided I didn’t feel great and better stop before I hurt myself. At the bar, I tried to order a $19 beer! Luckily, the waiter called the price to my attention AND directed me to something similar, but more reasonably ($5) priced. Turned out to be a great choice and a beer I’d happily drink again. But, boy, did I feel foolish.



After I’d been sitting with our small group (six total) for about half an hour, a seventh person arrived. A person I’ve met before. A person I’ve dated before. A person I’ve dated who I’ve written about on this here blog. Yikes.



I recognized him immediately, but he didn’t seem to notice me. My heart was racing and I didn’t know what to do. I never told him about the blog. What in the world had I written about him? Anything terrible? I wasn’t sure, but some of it was certainly not flattering (my mixed feelings were on full display). After a minute or two, he still hadn’t recognized me. I grabbed my phone, excused myself and moved quickly in the direction of the rest rooms.



I called Pele and explained the situation. She said, “Oh no! You can’t go back.”



I said, “I have to go back, I left all my stuff at the table. I’m really not having a good day.”



“No. But it can’t get any worse.”



“I sure hope not.”



I went back to the table. When I sat down, I looked at the person in question. He met my gaze and gave me a nod. I nodded back. And that was it. We didn’t try to talk. We were seated relatively far away from each other so it didn’t raise any eyebrows. I have zero hard feelings towards this guy. If anyone is at fault, it’s me.  (Guy in question–if you’re reading this, please accept my apologies and know that I’m fine with saying hi and making polite conversation if we run into each other again.)



Last amusing note. On the way home from the happy hour, my mom called. I told her what happened and she said, “You dated someone you met at a blogger happy hour and wrote about him on your blog?”



“Um, no. I’m not STUPID.”



“Smart people do stupid things.”



“No, I figured that one out as soon as I started meeting people via the blog. I never, ever write about dating anyone I meet via the blog–except in glowing terms.”



We laughed and moved on to other topics.



Today is better, though I almost bit it on my bike ride to work today. My clumsiness is a little out of control. But I’m sure that will get better too…



Grateful for: friends.