So I went out with John this weekend. And…I think (no, I’ m sure) I wussed out. I know, I know, just come out and tell him what I’m thinking and what I want, right? It’s not that hard. But, fuck! It IS hard. And hard makes me uncomfortable (fuck, that sounded dirty and I DIDN’T mean it that way). So, I totally took the pussy’s way out.
OK, here’s how it went down: John called and asked if I wanted to go grab dinner and catch a movie. I said yes, mainly because all of you guys shamed me into it – and, of course, I wanted to do the right thing (*cough* I’m lying). Anyway, we made plans to meet up, and then I got down to preparing.
First step: I had to make sure I didn’t look good for our “date.” This proved to be surprisingly easy. I mean, I was still sunburned from my foray out on the overcast day (and I probably didn’t help the situation when I spent all day Friday outside swimming – but in my defense it was hot and I LOVE the water), so I opted against makeup – what colors go with Rudolph red anyway? Then, instead of dealing with my hair and making it look pretty (this humidity does nothing good to my long red locks), I decided to throw it all into a knot at the top of my head and forget about it. Clothing consisted of an old, worn pair of Levis, my Where the Wild Things Are t-shirt (kids freaking love that one – and so do I), and flip-flops. That was it – pretty much my early morning coffee run look.
Step two: With my look (or lack thereof) taken care of, I then called Christine to get a pre-date pep talk. This consisted of the usual ‘don’t give in and sleep with him out of pity’ advice, along with the ‘sure it’ll hurt, but he’ll appreciate your honesty in the end’ bullshit. OK, pep talk done; I was almost ready for the awfulness to begin! Yeah baby.
Step three: I made sure I was totally ready when John got to my apartment, so instead of buzzing him up and having to spend any alone time with him, I yelled that I’d be right down and ran to meet him on the street. Avoiding non-public (aka private) places – check. OK, let’s deal with this situation.
The problem was I just…couldn’t figure out how to bring it up! I mean, how do you segue into the ‘I know you’ve been hitting on me lately, and it’s creeping me out so you need to stop’ line gracefully? Answer: Fuck if I know. He wasn’t actively hitting on me at the beginning of the night, and at the end…well, if will become clear to you guys why he didn’t make a move at the end when I get there. So how was I supposed to bring this shit up?
Where was I? Oh yeah – after he picked me up we went to the movie (where I proceeded to eat almost an entire large package of Twizzlers myself), and laughed (we saw Knocked Up). There was lots of joking and teasing – pretty much how we always are – and very little awkwardness. It was almost like how we used to be. He wasn’t trying anything, he wasn’t saying anything inappropriate, and he wasn’t bringing the subject up. So of course I wasn’t bringing the subject up. Which sucked, since I was prepared for and ready to deal with it (for once).
Anyway, when the movie ended we went to dinner. And that’s when my mouth went off (I’m taking no responsibility for myself here – it seems that when I get nervous (and have a couple of drinks to relax) I start to babble in a way that has nothing to do with my brain or my common sense). I say things. Things I wouldn’t normally say. Things that have no bearing on the discussion at hand. Things that only make sense to me and are relevant to no one and nothing EXCEPT me. Things that I mistakenly think will help me “deal” with a situation while never having to actually acknowledge it.
Some gems from the conversation (on my part – picture him just sitting there silently with his mouth hanging open and a slightly shocked look on his face): 1) How would he like for me to set him up with Christine? Sure they’ve met before and had practically nothing to talk about (besides me), but how important is conversation anyway – she’s hot, 2) He should definitely try to hook up with the cute kindergarten teacher at his school – yes, she’s legitimately insane and has a rather serious gambling problem, but is that really such a turn-off?, 3) I’m deliriously happy with NY Guy (total lie), 4) Whatever happened with the accountant he dated last year? She made a ton of money and was cute (or so I’ve been told – I never met her); in fact, that’s the kind of woman he should marry. Why doesn’t he call her?, and 5) He just needs to get laid – by anyone – and he’ll be fine; I think he’s just horny and doesn’t realize it.
It was a passive aggressive tour de force. I never once mentioned us or the awkwardness between us. Instead I just came out, guns blazing, and completely put him on the defensive while insulting him (not on purpose). I essentially told him he was desperate. I told him he just needed some action. And I implied (VERY obviously) that he should pursue that action with just about ANYONE but me. Meanwhile, I refused to make eye contact all evening. It was…painful. For both of us. I mean, I couldn’t have made the night more of a bloodbath if I tried. Because we both knew what I was saying, but like children (I can’t very well call myself an adult after THAT display) we never called each other on it. We never forced the other to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Still, I’m taking responsibility for all of it – honestly, I was in rare form; John didn't have a chance – he looked like he’d been hit by a truck at the end of the night.
But, I still think I got my point across. And that’s a positive. Right?