Thursday August 11 2011
Breakfast: 6-egg omelet, salsa, spinach
Lunch: Cobb salad
Dinner: chicken wings, celery, carrots, blue cheese, 3-4 glasses wine
Friday August 12 2011
Breakfast: chicken breast smothered in green curry coconut gravy
Lunch: Moe’s chicken fajita
Dinner: salmon filet, sautéed spinach
A whole week without exercise, and I haven’t turned into a pumpkin. All my clothes still fit. I feel pretty refreshed, overall. But you’d better believe I’m going to hit the weights extra-hard tomorrow, and top it off with some frozen yogurt and Heath bars and cookie dough and Fruity Pebbles cereal. Fantastic. I’ve also been craving pizza all week, and I just may recreate my legendary destruction (in May) of 3/4 of a large “Brass Knuckles” (chicken, feta, buffalo sauce) pie from Mafiaoza’s.
No, wait. Cheesecake. YES. My long-abandoned love. I’m coming for you…
Wednesday: The Ballplayer
Sometimes, you meet someone and you just know… that you’re never going to get along. This was the case with my Wednesday evening “blind date”, The Ballplayer, who just moved back toAlabamaafter three years inCentral America. Attraction is an odd thing. With men, it’s relatively instant. Aside from the standard-lowering effects of a couple shots of tequila or Jager, men know with in the first 1-2 seconds of seeing someone whether they want to sleep with them. We’re visual, instinctive creatures. Personality and humor and ambition and other intangibles can bring you up/down a point on the 10-point scale (or 2-3 points, depending on the guy), but if you start as a 3, you could be a concert violinist and a Nobel laureate and it’s not going to do much for your desirability. Not even in my eyes, and brilliance is my Viagra.
Nerdy girls often have this problem. If they were size 4’s and believed in make-up, they would rule the world. But they don’t. They believe in mom jeans and oversized bagels. The Ballplayer may have had a couple interesting things to day, but as soon as I saw her walk in to the bar, a good 40-50 pounds heavier than any of her photos, with slightly frazzled hair and a highly unflattering shirt, I kinda tuned her out. She rambled way too much about politics. She dominated the conversation, which is easy to do with me, but still. Oh well, not everything works out like you plan it out.
Speaking of which…
Thursday: The Killer, Round Two
And sometimes, you leave an interaction feeling clueless about what the hell just happened. I shouldn’t be negative, in retrospect. I may be misconstruing an entire evening’s intentions based on one odd moment. The Killer (a specialist in end-of-life care, essentially) and I met for a drink at the Wine Loft last night and had, overall, a pretty good hour-or-two of more interesting, more intimate conversation than our last date. For what it was, a sit-down with a drink in hand, on a weeknight when both of us had to work early the next day, it was fun and relaxed.
The ghosts of dates past obviously still haunt me, and I know I should let her pace me as far as becoming physical, but I can’t just lay there and not push things on occasion, can I? She’s very hard to read. The most passionate part of the date was when we were walking to her car, and she jumped at the sight of a cockroach on the curb near her feet. I instinctively swept my arm around her waist and spun her away from danger, and we walked for a few steps, hip-to-hip, her hand on my shoulder for the briefest of moments.
She insisted on driving me all of two blocks back to my place, and this time, I went in for the kill. I kissed her, and after about half-a-second, she turned her head a bit, kissed me on the cheek, and gave me a hug. This bothered me a little. Okay, a lot. Did she not enjoy herself? Does she not view me in any romantic/sexual way? Or is she just shy and moving at her own pace? I’m obviously not very smooth or mechanically suave with the physicality element, and when to appropriately make a move like that, so of course, I’ve been wondering about that ‘half-second in the car’ and if it means anything.
The “Natural Order of Things” Argument: She’s shy, she may not have expected it or been ready for it, she may have even *liked* it in her own Monday morning quarterbacking of last night’s date. We’ve never had more than one drink together, since work’s always getting in the way, so we haven’t had the chance to cut loose on a Friday or Saturday night, with the freedom to stay out till 1 or 2am and get on a dance floor at some dive and do something more than sit and talk. Let her work on me at her own pace, and if that’s not the right pace for me, maybe, lamentably, she’s not the right person for me to keep going on dates with.
The “Things Probably Ought to Happen” Argument: Not as strong an argument, but it’s what I thought about as soon as I got in bed last night. The Killer and I have gone out twice. We’ve talked a lot, and I feel like we’ve made some connections over things. We’re pretty compatible. If she’s not comfortable with me kissing her *now* (yet another possibly incorrect assumption, but still…), when will she ever be? Is she just moving too slow for me in general? I don’t want to lose out on her, I want to give her the chance to be sensual with me, but what if she doesn’t? Is she a dead end? Am I assuming way too much?
Goal for the Week: Make good, confident eye contact. Stop darting all around and going all ADD on people. Practice on friends, co-workers. Extend to average-looking women, then to hot women.