4 posts tagged “dating”

That's a quote from Kristi, uttered while we were all sitting in a Whataburger parking lot at 2am, too scared to go home because we'd just been completely freaked out by The Strangers.  I have a splitting headache now and I'm afraid to turn off the lights and go to bed, lest a scary man with a potato sack over his face sneak in and kill me for the fun of it.

In other news: apparently, I still look young enough to have 18-year-olds give me their numbers.  Cute ones, the kind that shop at Hollister, but like I've mentioned before, if I can't have a (legal) drink with them, I'm not even going to go there.  He acted and looked a bit older, was very nice, and we had a hilarious conversation about music (he made fun of me and I made fun of him), but thanks to MySpace and the fact that he put his last name on the little slip of paper, I looked him up, found his age, and quickly deposited his number in the garbage.   Sorry.  *shrug*  It's still quite flattering, though, and lifted my mood enough to make my shift go by super fast.

I really should be asleep, but I know I'll end up huddled under the covers with a pair of kitchen shears in my hand.  As if that's going to do any good.

I was sitting over at a friend's house tonight, enjoying some lovely coffee with a healthy splash of Bailey's, when I get a text from a number that I kinda recognize.  It says, "Come up to the pub ;-)".  I think for a moment, then it hits me.  I've seen that number before...and it's Date Guy.  I haven't talked to him AT ALL in like, two months.  What the hell? 

I didn't respond, since he and I were not exactly compatible.  But here's the sorta funny kicker...I was at his sister's apartment, which made it slightly weird.  I don't think he knows we're friends.  I think we're gonna keep it that way. 

Got my bathing suit tonight, but I couldn't find the one I wanted, so I got this one:

It actually looks pretty fab, if I may say so.  Gotta kick up the walks/jogs a little and get rid of the last of the flab.  I'm very happy with it.  Let me be honest...I've never worn anything this skimpy before.  Ever.  Should be a unique experience.

I'm proud of myself for getting so much done today.  Took my car in for a tune-up (she's such a good girl), got the bathing suit and some other stuff, got my Dad a gift for Father's Day, dropped off an insurance payment, picked up my check at the music store, donated plasma, rented a couple of movies I've wanted to see...a very good day.

I suppose that since I've gone and peed in a cup for the bank, and received a package detailing my orientation on Monday, it is safe to say that I am now holding two jobs.  Wow.  I'm going to stay on at the music store until the fall, when I start school, but it'll mainly be on the weekends and bank holidays.  Hey, the extra money will be nice.  I need to start scraping enough together to get a place of my own.  With a roomie, of course. 

Speaking of roommates, I had another funny thing happen a few weeks ago.  I had a date with a guy.  He was a super-hot guy.  Ex-Marine, so on.  Way out of my league.  We went for drinks.  It was okay.  Turns out that Date Guy is not my type.  At all.  I'm sure he has a lot going for him, but...well, no.  *somewhere, Jess and Kristi are snickering, possibly pointing and laughing*

Days later, I get it into my head to drop by this roommate search site and see what is available in the area.  I type in some basic info (not my name, thank goodness) and I get ten or so results on the first page.  About three profiles down....

It's Date Guy. 

*facepalm*

It's a fucking small world.  I hate this town sometimes:)

Carrie Bradshaw I ain't, but the more I see of this town and the dating scene that I've forced myself back into, the more jaded I become, and the more I want to write about it.  I don't want to nitpick all the psychological aspects of it, like Carrie...rather, I'd write it as it is, a bit like Laurie Notaro: awkward, frightening, alcohol-drenched, and piss-your-pants hilarious. 

I'd write about the group of people standing outside the club one night, being drilled by police, and one of them keeps shrieking about "Rhonda!  Rhonda!"  We figure she is talking about her ride, but this "Rhonda" is nowhere to be seen.  The girls and I are standing around, then a big SUV pulls up with another woman hanging out the passenger window.  She's flailing somewhat, and though I cannot remember how we put two and two together, we realized that this 45-year-old woman with her boobs half-hanging out of her shirt was Rhonda, and we directed her to the proper party:)

See?  That stuff is priceless.  I'm going to start bringing a notepad with me when we go out.