in which she cooks and drinks coffee!

I spent the morning eating really crappy food and watching FIVE episodes of the Gilmore Girls, first season.

And doing laundry.

Then I did a quick shopping trip to make sure I had the right ingredients for the dinner I was making for P2 tonight.

All the while, I had a mule-ish inclination not to go to the date with G. at 5 pm.  The whole thing just filled me with something bordering on disgust.  When I stopped to analyze this, I concluded that the thing that really bothered me was that I don’t know the fellow, and I am just … incapable, it seems … of wanting to spend one-on-one time with someone I don’t know, in a let’s-focus-on-each-other way.  And, when he asked me out at the shop, I felt nothing when I looked at him.

But of course I did go.  I dressed casually, rather defiantly, because Ms Spur was giving me tips on how to prettify.  The thought crossed my brain: "He hasn’t earned it yet."  Which is weird, perhaps, because as Ms Spur said, "You deserve to look pretty, never mind him."  However, I did make my hair as nice as it could look on such a dumping-rain day.  And I wasn’t wearing holey jeans or ratty shirts.  But I disliked the idea of dressing up especially for some guy who doesn’t know me and might get the wrong idea about my attitude towards clothing.

After pacing the apartment for about an hour, I decided to arrive early with Astronomy magazine in hand, just so that I would at least BE there.  Also this would solve the problem of how to make sure he didn’t pay for my coffee.  (I was adamant that he wouldn’t pay, in case it gave him the wrong idea.)

So I read about the International Space Station getting ready to toss some large equipment (just by pushing it off the station at the right velocity … ), and Hubble getting fixed soon (yay!), … while sipping a "Turtle Mocha."  (It was good.)

He arrived, wearing, I thought, the same grey pullover he’d worn on Monday, looking very nervous indeed.  I said, goofily, "Boo!"

He looked at my coffee, and seemed uncertain.  I blathered, "Oh, you go ahead and get something, I’ll be right here."  Or something to that effect.

I made myself read my magazine until he came back to the table.

I think I launched the conversation by saying, "I got here really early, but the way … "

He said, "Yeah, I meant to be early" (he was – by ten minutes) "but obviously you were earlier … "

"Ha, I out-earlied you," I heard myself saying.

He mentioned that his glasses fogged up when he entered so he could hardly see me.

"Oh, mine too!" I said, "I couldn’t read the sign to order, I thought I was getting a Truffle Mocha … and of course I’m as blind as a bat, so taking my glasses off didn’t help … "

So of course we had to trade glasses to try each other’s prescriptions.  The verdict, immediately, was that mine was very strong.

We managed to talk non-stop for an hour, and even laugh a bit.  He seems a curious mix of interests: He is just getting into Mozart but he loves Beethoven (inwardly I couldn’t help sighing at how typical a "classical music lover" description this is, but oh well, it’s a start), he was reading about physics but right now his thing is history (specifically the end of the 60’s and all the wars going on then), he doesn’t believe Louis Riel was insane, he loves The Princess Bride (book and movie), he has a 3-year-old son that he sees on Sundays, and he doesn’t have eyebrows as far as I could tell (while trying not to stare).

Oh, and he is also a sort of "Christian nomad" (he borrowed my term.  He asked if I was Mennonite and what that means, which led to a spiel from me on my religious meanderings).

We arranged to meet next Wednesday, same place, same time, and he asked for my number, and I said mildly, "Nah, not yet."

Now.  Here’s the thing.  I feel no actual attraction.  I’m not sure I even feel a real connection.  He seems like a very nice normal sort of person.  But I don’t know what will come of this.  The funny thing is, at only about five minutes into the date, I said, "Hey, were you about to ask me out when the phone rang on Monday?"  He laughed.  "Yeah – I was – and after you hung up, I thought, Gee, maybe I’m not supposed to ask her right now … but I’m glad I did.  It’s nice even just to meet a new friend."  So, it sounds like he isn’t going to be crushed if I don’t leap into his arms.

We parted with a handshake and he said "Happy Valentine’s!" and I effected surprise.  "Oh, yeah, that’s today, isn’t it?  Ha!"

Not sure why I did that.

I walked home quickly to begin making the meat sauce.

I felt happy.  Not ecstatic, just alive and well.  I chopped onions and garlic, defrosted meat, …

P2 was finally able to get here at around 9 pm.  (I walked over to the bus depot to meet him, and to show him the way to my place.)  He was over to look at Ms Spur’s old computer, which died in August.  While he immediately set himself to work, taking the outer case off of it, I put out plates of salad, started boiling spaghetti, poured him a Pepsi with a lemon slice (and a splash of rum just for the taste) …

Edgar loves P2.  It’s mutual.

I loved eating at the table with P2.  He happily scarfed down the food (the meat sauce was satisfactory, and that’s saying something – I model it after my mother’s recipe, the one with a secret ingredient that makes all the difference).

He finished making his diagnosis of the computer (power supply fan isn’t working; and the power supply itself may have been damaged).  I brought out a box of Pot of Gold and he had a few chocolates by way of dessert, and then we checked bus schedules, and I walked him back to the depot.  He confessed that since arranging to buy all his food himself (instead of paying the parents for room AND board), he has been eating about 800 calories a day! – and it was nice to have a big dinner.  I said, "Well, you’ve got the cheque from Ms Spur now, so you’ll make it to the end of the month, right?"  He said yes.

The bus arrived moments after we did; he hugged me tightly and said "Thanks for dinner!  I’ll be back again soon!"

We haven’t explicitly talked yet about the time in January when …

Okay, initially I wrote out the incident, but I’ve just deleted it because I think it’s too much to tell.  Basically I did something for P2 which made him very angry.  (That was one of the horrible things in January I have alluded to.)  He said some awful things to me which I tried not to take to heart.  A day later I went over to him to hug him, and he just stood there, and said, "I’m still mad at you."  "I know," I said, simply, "and I still love you."  That’s the closest we have come to actually talking about it since then.  I know he feels bad about it now.

Anyway, today it felt wonderful to just be normal with him.  To be smiley and jokey and enjoying food.

It’s midnight; I’m cold and suddenly exhausted

Hey, but I still have that Shaggy song running through my head – "Strength of a Woman."  A Curious Mango sent me a link to the video at YouTube.com … I’ve watched it about five times and find it oddly uplifting in a quirky hee hee way.

God bless the Mango!!  Her reaction to this date was "It’s bloody well time!  You’re gonna have to start swatting away men with a baseball bat!"  Well …..