Alright, it isn’t true. The Universe does not, I hope, hate me. I am just feeling particularly beat from a very trying week in the office where both politics and frustration flowed in an out of our doors as quickly as the clients themselves. Awful, awful week in the office. I’ve kept my eyes peeled for the Hollister Model Lookalike to show up again, but no such luck. Instead, I was distracted by the following occurances:
- The Saint and I had a decent chat over the weekend — all good, clean, safe topics. Just what you’d expect from someone I’ve nicknamed “the Saint”. But on Tuesday, I tried to up the ante a bit. I tried to be real slick, see? In the middle of him talking about how annoyed he got by his ex-girlfriend’s recent, and frequently repeated calls, I said, “So, if I promise not to call you eight billion times in a row, would you mind if I called you sometime? After all, we’re eventually going to meet over lunch and lemon water!” Now, the lemon water reference is an inside joke, and however lame the line might actually seem to you, I assure you I meant for it to be kind of light teasing and cute, dammit. You know what I got as a reply? “Lemon water?” Ummm… seriously? You can’t be that dense. You have a friggin’ Master’s degree. You’ve been through a very, very rigorous program at a prestigious private university. You really can’t be serious. I explained the lemon water reference, which he claimed to remember, but then he went radio silent. “So… should I take that to mean that you aren’t comfortable with giving out your number?” For once, I was forced to be upfront about what I was after. I rarely, if ever, bluntly state what it is I’m looking for, though I can sometimes be impressed to do so. In this case, with the Saint, I do my best to keep things… even and without pressure. He launched into what became a slightly awkward, albeit mildly embarrassing but swift, polite, and careful decline to give me his number. And he justified this no-number-giving with a story. One that related to his ex-girlfriend, the woman whose shadow still affects almost every action he takes, despite his supposed desire to be free of her. If I ever meet her, I swear I’m going to kick her for the number she did on him. She’s absolutely ruined a good chunk of him for all future potential girlfriends, thanks to her not-irreparable-but-super-hard-to-fix-anyway damage. As he politely begged off, still claiming to know that his answer and action is “irrational”, I told him I understood. But of course I was wounded, slightly. Not heartbroken, just… sad. My best guy friend, Xander, understood it perfectly well when I stated this, claiming that I was partially pained because I recognized something in the Saint that is also part of me — scars. The marks of abuse by someone less deserving that mar the innocence and beauty of someone pure, whole, and deserving of every happiness. Here he was, hurt and still trying to recover. I hate her, that ex who ruined him.
- The Halfsie offended me this week without really trying to. In the midst of some harmless flirting, he stated that he “wasn’t sure” if he would be able to “handle” me since he’s never been with a “bigger girl” before. Wow. That one sort of blindsided me, as I wasn’t expecting him to say something so ambiguously … rude? I mean, I get that he was trying to be sensitive about it and put it as delicately as possible, but just because I happen to not be a stick-thin model does not make me any less sexually appealing. We’re friends, the Halfsie and I. If we’re not going to be friends that screw, then at least graciously bow out in favor of minding our friendship. Instead, the Halfsie goes on to ask if I’ve ever had a problem messing around because I’m less of a stick, and more of a healthy, voluptuous female. So, was that supposed to be an insult? I really felt that he was asking to be… curious, and not rude, but it still kind of rubbed me the wrong way. I informed him that no, I had never had a problem getting it on because I’m not a stick.
- As for the Kid, he’s been radio silent for a while. I thought, at first, that perhaps my little last-minute talk about “hey, I don’t care if you bone other bitches” kind of scared him off. However, that didn’t seem to be the case. When I caved and called him up, he answered and seemed pleasant enough, if somewhat detached. So, over the course of the next few days, I just let him be. I figured, well, somehow I messed that up and it’s over and done. At least it wasn’t messy or drawn out or, God forbid, complicated. But then, TIF and I were kind of wrapped up in a lot of stuff in our real lives (which would account for our recent silence), and I didn’t think much about it. Work got to be high stress, and my evenings were dedicated to entertainment (TIF and I were playing hostess more than anything). And then, he texted me. Something short and random, about how the weather was in Colorado. I hadn’t even known he’d gone on a business trip! Well, then we got to talking again… and that led us to today’s conversation… which, I’ll have to save for tomorrow [sorry]. (So I guess the universe doesn’t hate me that much…)
- Then, there’s the Cyber Guy. Prior to me getting super busy with real life, we had a nice little online flirtation going on. One that batted around the possibility of maybe meeting up and getting it on. I like not really knowing for sure if we’re really going to recreate online fantasies, but I find the idea enticing enough to make me toy with the idea a bit. For now, that’s just a distant possibility.
There have been other things going on that I ought to tell you about, but I haven’t had the chance to blog it yet! For example, I’ve visited the gyno since I last blogged about my life. I definitely need to blog about that, and I’ve got to tell you about the last conversation I had with the Kid, and the conversaion I had with TIF about orgies! I just… as usual… don’t have the time just yet.
Ooh, but fun fact this week? TIF & I will pay a visit to Mysterioso’s work, and follow it up with a sleepover! We’re going to have a blast! Whoo!
When I first started writing this, I was pretty focused on what I will now and forever call the Phone Number Fiasco. I’m still bummed about it, but I won’t dwell on it now. I can’t wait for the Saint forever, you know…
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