almost-sane's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sucky, Sucky Boys I hate the stigmas attached to dating. I met a guy a guy on Wednesday. I got his number. I can't call the next day cause that makes me seem desperate. I can't wait too long because then it makes me out to be an asshole. Too soon: loser, too late: loser. My friends, who are supposed to be my source of wisdom, are USELESS. Friend 1: Call Friday. That way you can make plans for the weekend. Friend 2: THIS weekend? No way, girl. Too soon. Do something next week. Weeknight first dates are the way to go. What's his deal anyway? Friend 3: I don't know. Just call... like, on your way home or something. Leave a message. This is what usually happens. I get so frustrated, I don't call at all. No bad deed goes unpunished. No good deed goes without qualms. Something clever like that. And either way, I have to fight the urge to hit my head against a wall repeatedly. It's like I'm Jon Favreau in Swingers. I'm so money and I don't even know it... *snort* The thing is, then I call him, we make plans- we try to make plans. What do we do? Movies suck for first dates. Who wants to sit in a dark, crowded room where you can't have conversation for 2 hours and you're only communication is "want some of my Milk Duds?" Coffee shops? Unless you know a really good trendy one that's deemed cool, it's overrated. I'm not sitting at a Starbucks or Coffee Bean... Ya know? Meals make me nervous- I get consumed by the paranoia of spillage. I try not to wear white for this reason. On my very first date ever, I wore a white sweater and dropped half a piece of pizza in my lap. Lesson learned. When we kissed good-bye, he told me, though jokingly, I tasted like pepperoni. A telling sign of things to come. That "relationship" lasted three weeks, by the way. Also a telling sign of things to come. Anyway, you see where I am going. I mean, at this rate, I will end up locked up in my apartment, on the couch, under my blanket, keeping the Tivo company. Myra has this theory though, Tivo is just like a boyfriend. It doesn't call you, fuck you, or bring you flowers. It does, however, make you laugh and cry on occassion and can be programmed if you get good with it. So hey, maybe I am better off in the end. 3:29 P.M. - 03.11.05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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