Lonesome Loser (pt 2)

On Friday of this past weekend, I was desperate for companionship. So much so that I landed a second dinner and movie with Robin (after going to the church just looking for company) {Robin is our church secretary}. Her husband Dave was especially kind to allow us to use their gift certificates (which apparently had been hanging on their refrigerator for months).

We ran errands for Dave while we ate Arby’s in the car (we brought him his scanner from home. He was working a 5th grade lock-in at the church, and the weather here is, well, random). I landed this date by explaining how both desperate and broke I was at the moment. As we drove around, I went on to vent about the particulars of my new and old relationships at the moment.

This is all background for what happened on Sunday.

Micayla (X-Files chica) is housesitting for Robin & Dave while they are gone this week. Robin is aware that I “like” Micayla (however, she is dating her best friend from high-school, who lives in Chi-town), and so just after church Sunday, Robin called to ask if I wanted to join the 3 of them for pizza while they showed Micayla their house.

Unfortunately, I already had plans, but thanked them anyway.

Robin may have suggested to Micayla that I was feeling lonely, because thats all that would explain her calling me at 3:30 that afternoon, asking casually “hey, whats up?” I explained that I was doing laundry, and she said to call her when I was done.

At 5:30 my sister called to update me on her and her new man.

At 6:30, I finally called Micayla, and left a voice-mail. George had also called, and instead of wasting cell-minutes, or pining away for Micayla to call me back, I figured I’d just drop by on George. As I was walking to his apartment door, I realized that my phone had shut itself off, so I called Micayla again, in case I had missed her call. She told me that her plans with her host-family were uncertain at the moment, and told me to call when I was finished with George.

Something I expected to be a short visit.

After talking George out of killing himself because he is single and all alone without any regular companinonship for 4 months (despite my own feelings of despair) and convincing him to only date his first ex-wife for awhile before remarrying her – I called Micayla back at 9:30.

“Better take a rain check,” she says.

I suck.

Note the following, too: On Saturday, after the open house at the Land, Heather told me about her and D’s plans to go clubbing that night, and when D finally made up her mind about the time, Heather invited me to join them at the Vineyard at 8:30.

A co-worker had invited me to a barbeque at their home in Meridan starting at 6pm. I believed I might be able to hit both gigs: BBQ until around 10pm, then coming back to town and dancing until the wee hours.

An hour later in the afternoon however, I was running a 100 degree fever and felt like I’d been kicked by a horse. Somehow, I had contracted a 12-hour virus.

Those of you who know me, know I rarely get ill. I may twist a knee, but the bulk of my sickness is just sniffles that come from the weather changing. This, THIS flu hit so hard and fast, that I actually went home and loaded up some stuff (after taking a 3 hour nap) and going to my folks. I knew that I was going to be too sickly to even meet my own basic needs. I needed someone to make me drink water every hour or so, and someone to make sure my fever didn’t climb higher.

So, yet another opportunity to socialize fizzled.

As a final insult to my weekend –

After Micayla rainchecked on me, having nothing to do now and no one to do it with, I decide to go crusing around with the sunroof open and enjoy the dusk of the evening while listening to retro-to-right-now radio.

I bounce into a grocery store at the edge of my flight path (I was going to cruise around the lake) to pick up a bottle of pop — and I am accosted by a worker. This guy is one of my highschool contemporaries, and he still works as a sacker at this grocery store (which by itself is no shame, as somebody has to fill any given roll). He has some slight learning disabilities (again, no shame) but, he is a slow thinker and speaker.

He stops me — after I just missed a date because of somebody else, and as my dusk rapidly vapors into night,

to ask me about “is there math in Graphic Design” — my vocation, and an instant hot-button where people with software or an associates degree consider themselves Graphic Designers without the full immersion in the profession that a 4-year or more program can provide,

and his communication speed just slows me down further!

It was all I could do to be friendly.