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September 26, 2006
Rebound
The Big Idea calls, but I wanted to jot down my initial thoughts from this weekend before returning to the overwhelming burden that the rest of my life has become. First off, let me just say that New Boy #2 was nice, but nothing to shake a stick at, if you know what I'm saying. I felt like he could easily be the guy standing behind the counter at the rental car agency. Nothing wrong with that, you understand, just not my taste.
On the other hand, New Boy #1 was an interesting find indeed. We had a lunch date (sushi) that turned into a walk around the local women's co-op, which turned into a long perusal of the nearby bookstore, which turned into coffee at the local Starbucks, which turned into dinner, which turned into miniature golf, which turned into a long backrub while watching Sports Center on my sunroom sofa. Fifteen hours later, dear reader, I was convinced that Mr. Bethesda hadn't stolen my mojo.
So what's this kid's story, you may find yourself asking. Why would Ms. Write Again Soon, who has so clearly overbooked herself for the next six weeks, deem it worthwhile to spend 15 hours in a row with this young man? Dear reader, I'm not sure--but I have a strong suspicion that it has something to do with rebound.
It's not that I don't like this guy (we shall call him Mr. Music, since he plays a musical instrument at a professional level), because I do. But I'm not sure I like him (yet) as much as this mega-long date suggests. Nonetheless, I managed to arrange a second date with him, to immediately follow my date with the aforementioned bore, NB2.
That's right, dear reader. THREE different dates with two different guys over a mere weekend. That might be a record, even for me (although I have done the two-dates-in-one-day thing before--and I've got it down to a science). For date number two, Mr. Music took me to a recital, where we heard some very good and very bad music, and I thoroughly enjoyed being on a fancy date with a guy who opens the car door both when I enter AND exit the automobile. Very classy. And he held my hand during the event itself--which is a big deal since most of my recent dating experience has been more of the "let's make out in the privacy of my apartment and then pretend that we're just buddies when I walk you to your car" variety.
So what did I do? Dear reader, I jumped him. As he lay breathlessly in the darkness, he laughed and said, "when you said you would come to the recital, this isn't exactly how I envisioned ending the evening". I laughed too, retrieved my belongings, said a casual goodnight, and returned home.
The next morning I had a very brief email from Mr. Music, saying thanks for coming to the recital, he had a good time, etc. No mention of getting together again, very cool, etc. It was EXACTLY the type of email I would send the "morning after" to a guy who I liked, but didn't want to freak out with a "thanks for last night and when are we getting married" tone. How strange, I thought, to be on the other end of the game.
Anyway, I'm not sure where this is going, but I think I might keep Mr. Music around for a bit. After all, it's nice to have a hand to hold--even for a girl like me.
Comments
Nice. Congrats on the tackle, ala Ms. PNB. So tell us, how to you keep having dates that involve being in your house (making them dinner, sportscenter in the sunroom, etc)? Aren't the 'rents a bit impossing so early on? Does your mother not fear instant promiscuity and hover at an innapropriately close distance?
Posted by: mr. ba at September 26, 2006 11:12 PM
