Disclosure

Uh oh, ladies and gents…

Has romance come a-callin’?  Or did I screw that pooch fifty ways ’til Friday?  I do not know…

In the course of growing up, I developed a strong aversion to, in the language of our age, games.  The childish machinations and manipulations.  I believe in being upfront and honest; clearly stated aims and intentions; sincere interest supported by wholehearted pursuit.  Yes, I know, we’ve all seen the sitcoms.  Play it cool.  Hard-to-get.  In the words of Seth Rogan in 40-Year-Old Virgin, be David Caruso in Jade.  Fuck that.  Why would anyone like that?  What fucked-up gene on what mutated chromosone makes that even marginally attractive?  Let me reiterate: Fuck that.  The only pick-up line I’ve ever used and will ever have need to use is: "Hey, my name is Mitch.  Just wanted you to know that you look beautiful tonight, and that I’d like to buy you a drink."  That seems fairly adequate, does it not?

Well, as for the particulars.  I’m not quite sure how to read my present predicament, nor what any of it means, nor why I insist upon perpetrating my arguably idiotic patterns of behavior.

A few weeks ago, I got superlatively drunk with my then-boss and then-coworker at a bar downtown.  Then-boss hits on then-coworker, and is, for lack of better words, swallowed by the buzzsaw.  He goes home.  Her and I get annihilated and make out until 6 in the morning.  Certainly a quality night, especiallly considering my tentative self-worth in the wake of the recent break-up.

A week ago: pretty much the same story.  Drank until 7 in the morning, fell asleep together in my bed.  Woke up.  Muy cuddling and kissing and all that good stuff worthy of writing home about.  She likes my comforter, also sleeps with a box fan, likes my room.  Laughingly makes a comment about, "If this is going to work out (insert obvious observation here)."  My casual interest has been stoked, now, to something a little hotter, taller, brighter.  We make plans for later that night, I drop her off, she kisses me goodbye.  Seems fairly promising, eh?

Sigh…

She comes over that night with her friend.  I get the feeling that her friend is that kid who befriends the pretty girl, and then quietly hopes for nigh-on eons for it to develop to something more–god knows I’ve done it.  So I drink on an empty stomach, get drunk way too fast, and she’s about to get a ride home from her friend in the snow.  I "boo-hiss" the both of ’em, offer her a walk home if she wants to kick around and drink and throw darts, etc.  Of course, secretly hoping she’ll spend the night again.  No dice.  "It’s way too awful out to walk!"  I send her some profoundly idiotic texts alluding to, I shit you not, another "cuddlefest."  haha I"m such a fucking retard.  Oh well, these things happen, and it may or may not be salvagable.

So I take my usual tact: obvious interest.  Fuck games–I sometimes think of college dating as the social special olympics.  I sent her text before I went to bed Sunday night:

Hey, I might be off-base on this, but I think I really like you (i don’t think you even realize how cute you are;) and would really like to see you soon.

I regretted it instantly.  She texts back at three o’clock morning, something along these lines:

I don’t realize how cute I am and would love a good hang out.  Have finals coming up and 30 hours this week…maybe Thursday?

Seems promising.

Sigh.

Tuesday night.  She texts me, asking me what I’m doing.  I end up going over to old-boss’s (I quit my job on Saturday) apartment.  Once again, on an empty stomach.  We watch Superbad, have some interesting conversations.  I, once again, get much drunker much faster than I should.  Fuck. My. Constantly. Empty. Stomach. I walk home at 6 in the morning.  I have to wonder–does she normally stay awake until the late early morning, or does she, like me, not want the night and its particular company to end?  I don’t know.  I send her a text offering her a place to crash if she doesn’t want to walk all the way home.  She says thanks but she has to go home, and  "much appreciation."

I could’ve handled this much better, I thnk, but there’s a lot of shades of gray on this.  I accidentally forgot to give her checkcard back on Tuesday, so I sent her a text telling her I have it.  She says shit, I might need that tonight.  I call her that evening, leaving a message offering to drop it off (because I was out and about).  She texts me hours later (she might have had night class) and asks me to drop it off at her work this morning.  I do that.  I was pretty discouraged about the whole fucking thing, and then she says, out of the blue, that she’ll call me tonight.

I really hope she does.  I want this to work out, because her and I make much more sense then maybe either one of us would care to admit.

I just need to not fuck this up anymore.

Wow.  That was long.

Rise up! Rise up!
And live a full life!
Because when it’s over it’s done!
So rise up! Rise up!
Dance and scream and love!