Maybe I'm more girly than I thought

By which I mean that I spent quite a bit of time with Hot Med over the weekend...more than I had intended to, actually. I was thinking we'd have one weekend evening date, but he came over both Friday and Saturday evenings, and we went out to eat, took a walk and hung out at his place (with his family, off and on) on Sunday afternoon. I was surprised by how good it was to see him Friday evening, after a week of NOT seeing him.

Maybe I judged too hastily and harshly. Or maybe I underestimated the appeal of someone who clearly and demonstrably adores me. Heh. New Guy, for all that I knew that he cared about me, was NOT into public displays of affection, particularly. We'd hold hands occasionally, and he'd give me a hug and a peck as a greeting, but he just wasn't a big "I need to put my arms around this woman right now" kind of guy, and Hot Med...seems to be. Not that he's mauling me in public, or anything, and I do still have some misgivings about the way he ratcheted up the hand-holding when we were around my male friends that time, but...I have no doubt that he likes me, and that's kind of nice. And, while New Guy would regularly tell me he found me beautiful, he didn't do it with nearly the frequency that Hot Med does. It's flattering, if nothing else!

I still have a hard time thinking of this as a truly long term prospect, but...we're kind of finding a groove, I guess. We're communicating a little better, starting to get each other's senses of humor a bit--there are still major communication barriers, of course, and I can't seem to get him motivated to get back into ESL classes (which he desperately needs to do), but I have figured out how to handle making plans over the phone without too much frustration. I call, state clearly when and where I intend to pick him up, wait for him to repeat it back to me, and then we hang up. So far it's worked out okay. Hee.

I have also found out that we are compatible politically. Here is his succinct summing up of the current and past U.S. administrations: "Bush--no good. Stupid, crazy, make many dead. Obama--good! Change, make more clinics." The "make many dead" was accompanied by shooting sounds--clearly a referendum on the war. And I am assuming that "make more clinics" is limited English for "affordable healthcare for all." Heh.

So...it is what it is, and I'm enjoying it for now. I fully realize that there may come a time when I can't put my need for intellectual stimulation on the back burner any longer, but I'm trying not to focus on that. And, besides...maybe I've spent too much time looking for big brains, when I should have been looking for big hearts, eh? Something to think about, at least.

I have a very busy week of rehearsals and performances, so I won't see him again for a few days. We'll see how happy I am to see him when I do.

Pros and Cons

I'm sure you're all wondering how it went with Hot Med last weekend, so I'll tell you.

I actually ended up seeing him both Saturday and Sunday nights, so clearly it wasn't too painful, right? Hee.

Saturday night he made me spaghetti at his house, then we watched TV and became frustrated at the lack of privacy at his place. His sister and nephew were there--they're lovely people, but the apartment is really just too small for them all, plus they go to bed really early, in the living room, and then it just gets kind of awkward. So I didn't stay too late. Which made Hot Med sad, so I said I'd probably see him the next day.

Sunday afternoon I went to a birthday party, and then picked him up and brought him back to my place. We'd both already eaten, so there was no kitchen struggle. Heh. I made him watch the Amazing Race with me (which he seemed to enjoy--lots of action), and then...well...I did mention that I am physically attracted to him, right? (Which is sort of a welcome relief, after all the "nice guy no sparks" dates.) And he keeps telling me how beautiful I am? I'm only human, people!

So, anyway, it was a pleasant evening. I haven't seen him since, as I've been busy with lawn-mowing, Fridiron rehearsal, etc. Which I explained to him would be the case, and I think he understood. I'm assuming we'll probably get together tomorrow night or Saturday (or both), then I'm tied up with the show the next several days.

I'll admit that he seems to be growing on me in some ways...but I still really can't see this being a longterm thing. He doesn't seem particularly motivated to get back into ESL classes ("you teach me"--um, no), and I just don't think there will be the intellectual stimulation I will need as the new wears off, so to speak.

Here are the pros and cons, as I see them:

Pro:

• he thinks I'm beautiful
• he tells me so repeatedly
• he is gentlemanly
• he likes to cook for me
• I find him attractive
• he has a nice family

Con:

• we can't carry on a conversation
• he's not particularly intellectually curious, it seems
• he doesn't drive, has no car, and doesn't live particularly close to me
• he can be a bit controlling
• he had the nerve to suggest I go to the gym with him--while his hand was resting on my belly (he's lucky he didn't pull back a bloody stump--to his credit, he did immediately apologize and tell me again how beautiful I am)

So, I'm kind of being a guy, I guess. Heh. You know, continuing to see someone with whom I don't really see a future, because it's fun for the time being. No harm, no foul, right? I've been very clear with him that I am only interested in dating at this point--no "boyfriend," no "marry." (He did actually ask me my "intentions," so to speak...in the form of a multiple choice question, those being the three possible answers.) My conscience is really clear on that point...and yet I still feel a little bad. Damned liberal white guilt! Why can't I just enjoy myself and not feel like I'm leading him on? He's a grownup, I've been honest with him--if he wants to continue seeing me under these conditions, I have no reason to feel guilty, right? After all, I willingly kept seeing Mr. Short Term for a while, in a similar situation, and I bear him no ill will.

So, that's where it stands. I'm just planning to let it play out for a bit, and see how I feel as it goes.

What would YOU do?

My so-called life

Okay, I'll catch you up.

When last we knew, our heroine was getting ready to go out on another date with Hot Mediterranean. What happens next?!

Hee.

The date was fine, actually. He made tabouli again. It was delicious. I enjoy watching him squeeze lemons. (That's not nearly so dirty as it might sound.) We watched TV a bit, and then his sister and nephew were dropped off (after a trip to the gym) by his brother. I like his brother. (Why can't HE be single? Heh.) We talked about theatre and art for a bit. He asked me if I knew anyone who might be willing to tutor Hot Med in ESL, as the only class they'd been able to find wasn't a good fit, geographically and logistically. (I happen to know an ESL teacher, so that info has since been forwarded to Hot Med.) Hot Bro started to say that Hot Med hadn't had the educational opportunities he and the other siblings had...then he laughed and corrected himself. "The truth is, we couldn't get him off the beach. All he ever wanted to do was hang out at the beach, swim, fish, work out and chase women." Well...that explains a lot. Heh. I suppose if I had grown up on the Mediterranean, close to Greece, with those beautiful, beautiful waters...I might have been a beach bum, too. (Okay, probably not...but I understand the appeal.)

I didn't stay too late, but promised to get in touch later in the week to plan another evening.

I still don't know that I see this going anywhere...but he does have a certain charm, and it is quite nice to be told how beautiful you are...constantly. And I think he means it, too...I don't think he's just trying to get into my pants. Not that he's NOT trying to get into my pants, of course. He's a guy. But he's a guy who very much wants a steady girlfriend/possible fiancee/wife prospect, and, since I don't want to lead him on in any way, I'm kind of keeping him at arm's length in the...gettin' busy department. He seems okay with that for now...

Okay...I had a half-day coming to me at work, and decided to take it Thursday. So I emailed Hot Med to see if he wanted to go to dinner that night. I didn't hear back via email, so I finally called yesterday afternoon to see where we stood, and he apparently thought the date was already a done deal, and was expecting me to be at his place that evening. (This communication difficulty frustrates the heck out of me, I don't mind saying.) Alrighty then.

We had some salad at his place, took a walk along the river, sat on a bench for a while and talked...okay, HE talked. I figured he needed the practice, so I just let him go. He told me he never wants to live in Lebanon again, that he didn't like New Mexico (where he lived when he first came to the U.S.) because there's not enough water (I can dig it), that he had a girlfriend there who cried when he left, but that he didn't like her as much as he likes ME...it went on for a while. He would like to visit his sister in Germany and his brother in London. Apparently, only his mother still lives in Lebanon. (I've started correcting his pronoun usage now, by the way, when he makes mistakes. He confuses he/she a lot. Let's get a jump on that ESL.) At one point his phone rang, he had a short conversation in English, and when he hung up he told me it was from a "crazy girl" he works with, who wants to go out with him. She's too young for his taste, though. 27. He likes 'em older. (Clearly.)

We left the river and went to my favorite restaurant (which happens to be just down the street from his apartment), home of the world-famous "crack" noodles, and I made him try some Asian food, with which he seemed completely unfamiliar. He really like the fresh spring rolls, though--"Beautiful!"

Then I suggested that we stop in at a bar on the way back to his place, as some friends of mine were playing there that night, and I was curious to see what he'd think of "my" kind of music.

Here's where the red flags of the evening were displayed. He greeted everyone warmly, but didn't seem to care for me greeting my male friends as warmly, and kept asking if any of them were my "boyfriends. or "ex-boyfriends." Answer? No. Though, in all honesty, if...well, if Mr. "If He Were to Ever Actually Leave His Completely Mismatched Wife Who's Been Making Him Miserable for Years" were to ever actually leave his wife...I'd probably be first in line to help him pick up the pieces. Heh. But, Hot Med doesn't know that, and the point is, I can't handle someone who can't handle the fact that I have friends who happen to be guys, as I happen to have a lot of them. He did stop asking the questions, but then started making a concerted effort to hold my hands and gaze into my eyes a bit more...obviously. Gah. Spare me the macho posturing, please.

He nursed a beer (he doesn't drink much), and I had a couple, and then...remember the soup ladle incident? Well, he kind of went to that controlling place again. As I finished my second beer, he grabbed the bottle from me and said "no more, you're driving." EXCUSE ME? That is not for you to decide, Mister! I tried to make myself take Sauntering Soul's advice to heart and believe that it was coming from a place of caring and concern, but...I couldn't quite get there. It's quite all right for him to express concern, but to literally take the bottle from my hand and say "no more?" I'm a grownup, and that's out of line. Which I told him. (And, by the way, two beers? Barely even tips the "buzz" scale for me. I'm a big girl; I can handle a few beers.)

At this point, he was yawning, and since I could tell he wasn't really enjoying the music (it's very lyrics-driven, and I don't think he was getting it at all), and I knew he had to be up very early, I suggested that I go ahead and take him home. Of course, I had every intention of returning and listening to more music, drinking more beer AND eliciting some follow-up details to "Mr. If He Were, Etc.'s" answer of "oh, you don't even want to know" in response to my "I haven't seen you in a while; how's it going" question from earlier in the evening. (Maybe he's left his wife!) I told Hot Med I planned to come back and listen to more music, and while he clearly wasn't crazy about that, he was fairly gracious about it. "Okay, no problem, but please be careful, baby." I told "Mr. If He Were to Ever" to save me a seat, as I would be right back, and deposited Hot Med down the street at his house, with a promise to call soon about the weekend.

So, then I went back to the bar, sat down to "Mr. If He...", oh heck...let's just call him Lyle. (That's not his name, but I just glanced at the poster of Lyle Lovett above my desk, so...Lyle it is.) Anyway, I sat down, and ordered another beer, saying, jokingly, as I lifted it to my lips, "I hope YOU'RE not going to forbid me to drink and drive." [Edited to take out details about Lyle, just in case anyone who knows him reads this. Doubtful, but possible, I suppose.] (He has NOT left his wife.)

Anyway, I spent the rest of the evening drinking beer (yes, I drank more, thankyouverymuch, and was just fine to drive), listening to good music and enjoying an extended conversation with Lyle, with whom I've always felt an intellectual connection.

And being frustrated. Why, oh WHY, can't I find a guy who is: a) available and ready for a relationship, b) crazy attracted to me, AND c) smart, funny and "gets" me?

So, that's where things stand. Hot Med's going to make me spaghetti this weekend, and...we'll see how things go.

Weekend update

But first...enormous hugs, thoughts, prayers for healing to gorillabuns and her family. I can't even begin to imagine the pain she's feeling right now. Please send your own thoughts and prayers her way, as well.

And now, a quick rundown of my weekend:

Friday afternoon, I did manage to meet Mr. Not Quite Divorced for lunch, despite my boss having a panic attack/meltdown which required me to give up much of what should have been an entire afternoon off to help him sort things out.

And how was it? Well, it was fine. I know...you were hoping for fireworks. Me, too. But what I got was an enjoyable lunch with a nice guy. Physically, no overwhelming sparks. But no "never in a million years" reaction, either. He greeted me with a somewhat awkward handshake (keep in mind that this guy married the first girl he went out with, 20 years ago, so he has no recent actual dating experience). He is really pretty much as he described himself--nerdy and near-sighted. Hee. We ate, we chatted, we had to cut it kind of short because a) the restaurant was closing, and b) I had to get back to my frantic boss. We did stand in the parking lot chatting for a bit. No hug at that point, either, though I suppose I could have initiated one, and we left on a "we'll have to do this again sometime" note. And...that's it. We're back to our regularly scheduled emailing, and I have no idea if he has any aspirations to anything more.

Friday night, church.

Saturday morning, house cleaning.

Saturday afternoon, cat lady lunch, followed by a stop at a local herb festival, where I bought four, count 'em, four different kinds of basil plants. And some tomatoes. I got the basil into planters--the poor tomatoes are still waiting.

Saturday evening, Mensa meeting, with an interesting presentation this month by a woman who worked for JPL for 30 years, and was project manager for the first Mars rover landing. She insisted that the rover have the name of a female hero--hence, "Sojourner Truth." Looking at her, I would never have guessed that she was responsible for anything so exciting...she looked more like a retired gym teacher, in khaki pants and a sweatshirt. Heh.

Sunday morning, two, count 'em...two church services. I sang with the praise band led by a friend of mine at an early morning service, then went to my own church for the regular service, then went home and and snuggled on the couch under a blanket for the rest of the rainy, cold afternoon.

At some point in the weekend, I returned one of Hot Med's several calls. (He never leaves a voice mail, so I don't feel that bad about not returning the calls more promptly.) He wanted me to come over for dinner on Sunday, but I was too tired. I did agree to go to his place for dinner tonight. I believe we're having tabouli again. He offered to make something different, but I couldn't trust that he's really grasped the vegetarian thing, so I thought tabouli was a safer choice.

So, am I looking forward to seeing him? Well, yeah....to some extent. It's hard not to like being told repeatedly how beautiful you are. Heh. And I can watch his arms as he chops the tabouli vegetables. Double heh. But then we'll run out of things to say, and he'll be content to sit there holding my hand, but I won't, and...I think I need to make a decision fairly soon regarding continuing the "relationship" or not. I don't want to hurt his feelings, but I don't want to lead him on, and I don't want him making any assumptions about where this might be leading.

In other news, I logged in at "flentyofpish" today, for the first time in quite a while, to check out some guy who had "favorited" me (and he looks kind of cool--I favorited him back, though neither of us sent an actual message), and mere moments later I had a message from Insane Guy. "I've missed you." Yowza. I did not respond.

No real contact from Mr. Short Term, by the way...except for email forwards and facebook interactions. I'm sure if I actually gave in and called him, he'd be happy to see me. Not gonna do it, though. "Nuh guh duh," in the words of Dana Carvey's President Bush. Hee.

No news is...no news.

Nothing interesting to report here.

I haven't seen or talked to Hot Med this week--I wasn't kidding when I told him I wouldn't have time to see him this week. He hasn't attempted to contact me. I'm hoping that means he actually understood what I was attempting to convey. Heh. I'm still undecided about continuing to see him. I haven't really thought about him much this week--that's probably not a good sign. We'll see, I guess.

My lunch date with the pen pal is tomorrow. I'm very much looking forward to it--but I'm not really nervous about it. I guess we've communicated at enough length at this point that I'm pretty sure we'll get along fine. Whether there is any chemistry beyond friendship is anybody's guess, but I suppose we'll find that out tomorrow.

Other than that, it's a rehearsal and churchgoing kind of week. A busy weekend coming up, too...aside from Easter, it's Cat Lady Lunch Day and the monthly Mensa meeting. And at some point I've got to mow my lawn. Spring has sprung to that extent, at least.

I'll let you know how lunch goes. Ironically, we're meeting for Lebanese food. Hee.

"Put down the ladle and back away from the sink."

My goodness, I don't even know where to start.

I did not meet the McCain Supporter for drinks on Friday night. I was way tired after a trip to the grocery and liquor stores, and just wanted to crash on the couch.

I got a couple of calls from Hot Med while running those errands, which I waited to return until I was home. "Where are you?" Dude, you said SATURDAY. Today is FRIDAY. "So you not come tonight?" No, I'm not coming tonight. I will be there tomorrow, okay? "Okay, no problem."

So, I did have the tabouli date on Saturday night, and reciprocated by making soup for him at my place on Sunday. So...how did it all go?

Let's talk good things first, I think.

He was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, and I have to say...man's got some nice arms. And shoulders. Later in the weekend he pulled his shirt up (we were talking about his body-building) to show me the "8 beers in his belly" (thanks, Sauntering Soul's Hot Brazilian--I love that) and...yeah, the guy's in good shape.

He makes a mean tabouli. I had never had it as the main dish, nor had I eaten it scooped into lettuce leaves instead of using utensils. I would recommend both, though. He's perhaps an even bigger OCD freak about the kitchen than I am. He washed the cutting board between every vegetable and was constantly wiping and cleaning and washing his hands. (Well, he does work in a restaurant--I suppose that's good policy.)

He's very chivalrous--always insisting on opening doors and helping me out of the car, etc. He asked permission before taking my hand on our walk in the Riverparks, and before giving me a short neck massage at my house. Now, I suppose the jury is out on whether that is his natural tendency, or if he's been given a smackdown for being too presumptuous in the past, but still...he was polite.

He gets a big smile on his face every time he looks at me. It's hard not to like that. He tells me repeatedly how beautiful I am. Ditto on that.

He was pretty good about letting my cats (those that deigned to be visible, of course) sit on his lap while we watched TV.

Okay, it's all sounding good, you're thinking. Well...it wasn't ALL good. Let's have a little lesson in how NOT to court me, 'mkay?

Lesson #1: Do NOT under any circumstance mention marriage to me on the second date. I will not think, "wow--this guy really likes me!" I will think, "wow, this guy really wants a wife." Big difference. Particularly do not mention that you would like to take this wife-to-be to Lebanon to meet your mother in the near future. That is way too much too soon. Even after my week-long first date with New Guy, I think I would have been a little freaked out by that. (Or not. Damn you, New Guy! Sigh.) I told him I was not interested in marriage to ANYONE any time soon, and he didn't mention it outright again.

Now, I think it was coincidental that his brother and sister-in-law were at his house when I arrived to pick him up Sunday evening to take him to my house for soup. I think they were there to visit his sister and nephew. (They had brought a basket of hand-decorated Easter eggs.) I hope that is the case, at any rate. 'Cause it was just a bit of an inquisition, and I would hate to think that was set up deliberately. Now, don't get me wrong--they were lovely people. His brother is a contractor, speaks perfect English, his sister-in-law is American, and we all had a lovely chat about theatre, dance, etc. But I would not like to think that I was being deliberately screened for suitability on a third date. Heh. (They were very enthusiastic about coming to see me in a show...which is nice, but leads me to believe they have premature assumptions about where this relationship is going.)

Lesson #2: You will not curry favor with me if you repeatedly suggest that I put my dog outside. Now, I am the first to admit that Pudge is a very large, very clingy, sometimes anxious dog. He bounced from the animal shelter through a couple of foster homes before he ended up with me, and he is...well, needy. He's used to having me to himself, and it takes him a few minutes to get used to the presence of a stranger in the house. He's not aggressive at all, mind you...he mostly sits near me anxiously and keeps his eye on the "intruder" for a while. There will, of course, be some sniffing of the shoes, tail-wagging, etc.--he's a DOG. But if you speak nicely to him, and then sit quietly for a bit, he will relax fairly quickly. The very worst thing to do would be to put him outside by himself. So, if you continue to suggest that I put him outside, you are liable to be shut down with a curt "it's his house, too." Pudge did calm down, and I did put him in the bedroom for a while as we actually ate (see, I can compromise), but...dude. Ask once, then let it go.

Lesson #3: Okay, it's a relatively well-known fact that I am a bit...anal and OCDish about my kitchen. But only MY kitchen. I have no compulsion to wash dishes at anyone else's house. I get a little thrill, actually, when I leave a dirty plate or glass in or near a sink and walk away. It's like a tiny vacation from the compulsion. Heh. Apparently, however, HIS compulsion knows no such bounds. He kept trying to "help." Okay...I'm happy that he knows his way around a kitchen, but this is MY kitchen, and it's TINY; there's barely room for me, and you are IN MY WAY. Please go sit down! He wouldn't, though. It's all very well and good to offer to help when you are a guest in someone's home, but if they decline your offer, take them at your word and leave them alone, for cryin' out loud. I do not need someone taking a soup ladle out of my hand and attempting to wash it. He's lucky that soup ladle was not wielded as a weapon, is what I'm saying.

Tangentially, I also do not need to be told repeatedly that the soup is hot, and to be careful. I KNOW THE SOUP IS HOT. I JUST TOOK IT OFF THE STOVE. I AM 46 YEARS OLD AND I HAVE EATEN HOT SOUP BEFORE. I get tired of that constant admonition even in restaurants, where they're presumably worried about liability--I do not need or want it in my home. Thankyouverymuch.

I told him, and I think he understood, that I am very busy this week, and I won't be able to see him at all. (Rehearsals, Holy Week church services, etc.) We'll see, I suppose.

So...some issues, clearly, in addition to the ongoing communication difficulties. Here's the thing. I'm a very verbal person. Not a chatterbox, by any means, but...I like words. I'm a word nerd. And being a word nerd without access to so many of my words--well, it feels kind of stifling. And I can't be funny without words! Who am I if I'm not funny? (Okay, admittedly, maybe this says more about me than about him.) And I have no problem with the occasional companionable silence...it's nice. But there is a difference between "companionable" silence and awkward "I'm out of things to say" silence, isn't there?

He keeps telling me how much he likes me. He likes my eyes, my hair, my face. I know guys are very visually-stimulated, but...that's not really enough for me. He asks what I like about him, and I don't know what to say. I don't really know you well enough yet to know, I reply. And you don't really know me yet. I don't think that's the answer HE wants, either.

So...I don't know. I haven't made any decisions, one way or the other, but I'm not sure I have the energy for this, frankly.

In the meantime, I am very much looking forward to meeting my "pen-pal" in person. We have exchanged close to 300 emails in the last two months. Clearly, we're both very wordy people. Heh. I know, I know--being almost divorced isn't being divorced. I have no expectations--just a strong curiosity to see if the image I have in my head matches the real him at all.

It never rains but it pours.

In addition to tomorrow night's tabouli-making date, I've had other offers.

The McCain Supporter--remember him? He's never really completely gone away, he pops up with an instant message now and again. He popped up this afternoon--we actually had a decent little chat, and he wants me to meet him for a glass of wine tonight. I told him I was probably going to be too tired after work. (I still think that, at this point.) Actually, he was fun to hang out with, and I think we both know there's no possibility of a real relationship, so maybe we could just be friends, but...I hesitate to walk that road again, even platonically. Still, though...nice to be so unforgettable to SOMEBODY.

AND...Mr. Not Quite Divorced, with whom I have up to half a dozen email exchanges most weekdays...wants to meet for lunch next week. I'm...a little surprised. But very much looking forward to meeting him, if only to see if we have anything left to say to each other in person. Hee. No expectations, though...he's still only almost divorced.

A decent-sounding guy contacted me through Hayoo!, but he hasn't posted a picture yet, and I have decided to be all guy-like and insist on knowing what they look like first. Go, me. Way to be shallow. Heh.

Haven't heard from Mr. Short Term in days....as I have mightily resisted the urge to remind him that I exist. Apparently I'm NOT so unforgettable to HIM.

Who needs him, anyway, right?

I'll probably keep my maiden pseudonym

Okay, for all you people singing "Lizgwiz and Hot Med, sittin' in a tree..." or doodling "Mrs. Liz G. Mediterranean" in the margins of your trapper keeper...we do have another date scheduled. He's going to make tabouli for me Saturday night at his place. Said date being arranged by email, of course...that phone thing is just NOT happening.

Now, let's just hope he doesn't monkey up his tabouli with bell peppers...'cause THAT would be a deal breaker.

In other news, we had our first "Fridiron" rehearsal last night. As usual with political parody, there are way too many parts for men, and as usual in Tulsa, there are way too many women in the cast, so...at first it didn't seem to be looking good for my getting a great song. I was actually considering backing out (call me a diva, but I won't simply be a spear carrier--sorry), but apparently the director sensed that, and following a quick chat post-rehearsal (where I stopped well short of being bitchy about it, but did express my interest in a particular potentially show-stopping number), she called to say she'd give me that song if I'd stick around. Deal! I will happily carry spears the rest of the evening in exchange for portraying our controversial mayor in a song to the tune of "Rhohemian Bapsody." I suppose I'll just have to deal with the mental darts being aimed my way by the rest of the women. Hee.

His English IS better in person.

Okay, I won't keep you all in suspense.

I was nervous as all heck, for whatever reason, but I sucked it up and headed off to "Barstucks" to meet Hot Mediterranean. (That would not have been my choice of venue, but I decided it wasn't worth haggling over.) He was sitting outside when I pulled up (it was a lovely day), and as I walked up, he smiled a big smile and said, "Oh my god, you are so beautiful!"

Well, can't complain about THAT.

We went inside to order. I asked for iced tea (I rarely drink coffee) and he followed suit. "You like iced tea?" Yes, I replied...I love it. I drink it all day. "Oh my god, me too. I love it." (You're going to hear this refrain a LOT.)

So, we sat and sipped our tea and made small talk. He IS easier to understand in person, thank goodness, though I'm not sure he always understood what I was saying. But that didn't keep him from saying "Oh my god, me too" a lot. Heh. For instance, at one point I mentioned that I was a vegetarian. "Oh my god, me too...I love the vegatoes." I'm pretty sure he didn't know the full connotation of "vegetarian" though, since later in the evening he offered me both chicken soup and a steak. But I'm jumping ahead.

Let's sum up what I discovered (or think I discovered--there's probably a pretty wide margin of error here): he's been in the country for about a year, though his brother has been here for years, his sister and nephew just moved here last week and are living with him in his one-bedroom apartment. He works as a cook in a restaurant, but doesn't really like it--he wants to start his own handyman business, which is what he did in Albuquerque, where he lived briefly, and presumably what he did in Lebanon. He doesn't have a car right now, so he rides the bus, and wants to move to a bigger apartment in Brookside (my old neighborhood), which is more pedestrian-friendly. He also likes beer ("oh my god, me too...I love beer"). He loves my dog ("oh my god, me..."), my cats ("omg, mt"), America in general and Tulsa in particular. He wants to make me tabouli soon. ("Oh my god, you love tabouli? I make for you. Tonight? You want?")

He's an enthusiastic guy, to be sure. He loves my hair, my boots, and the earrings I was wearing. He also loves...a general gesture in the direction of my body, with a repetition of "beautiful". Take that to mean whatever you like. And, oddly, though it reads a little sleazy, in person it came across kind of sweet.

And did I love his...general gesture in his direction? Well, he is a good-looking guy, but I have to say...he is apparently really photogenic. Good-looking in person, but not quite as hot as he came across in his pictures. Not that I'm accusing him of touching them up, or anything...he just photographs well, I think. He has a big smile, which helps...as does posing on a beautiful Mediterranean beach. Heh. He also doesn't really seem all that much younger than me, though he is, by a few years. I didn't have a "oh my god, I MUST HAVE HIM" reaction, but I definitely didn't want to run in the other direction, so...we're okay there, I think.

So, we finished up our tea, and decided to walk up the street a bit. We stopped in at a pool hall/bar and got a beer (Newcastle. I ordered first and he again said "the same."), which we drank outside on the sidewalk patio. We walked some more, then went back to my car. It was getting a bit chilly at that point.

I offered to give him a ride home, so he wouldn't have to mess with the bus, and he loved that idea, of course. I knew his sister and nephew were there, so it didn't seem particularly risky. Plus, he's not a really big guy, and I have brass knuckles, so...) I met his sister, Rima, and his 6-year-old nephew, Ali.

His sister was very friendly...she's been stuck in the apartment most of the week she's been here, and she's very bored. There's really nothing nearby to walk to, and "this apartment is not so nice." Hee. (It was a very typical off-white walls, tan carpeted, boxy south Tulsa apartment, to be sure. Not much furniture.) Her other brother had taken her to the library, and she enthusiastically showed me the books she checked out. She has a degree in Chemistry from a university in Beirut, hopes at some point to teach, and would like to get a second degree in Physics. She wanted to know if there was a demand for science teachers--well, certainly there is, but there might be quite a few certification hoops to jump through. I suggested she look into doing some private tutoring, and she liked that idea. She also wanted to know where she might acquire a kitten--in Beirut she worked with an organization that feeds homeless cats and tames kittens for adoption. My kind of girl! She asked how I would rate her English--I gave her an "A." She was very excited--turns out her older brother gave her a "C+", and her sister-in-law a "B." I said, "well, compared to your brother here..." and we all laughed.

Hot Mediterranean offered to make me something to eat, but when he began pulling things out of the cabinets/refrigerator, I realized he didn't quite understand "vegetarian." His sister did, however, and filled him in. "Oh!" I declined the food offers, we watched a little TV (he pressed the remote into my hand--guess he's not all that chauvinistic. Hee.) His sister proudly pointed out that he did all the cleaning and the cooking himself, and a couple of times chided him for not speaking English. "You need the practice." True dat.

I decided it was time to leave, which disappointed him, I know...but I wanted to stop at the grocery store and get home before the brewing thunderstorm hit. He walked me to my car, tried to get me to agree to "tabouli tomorrow night," but I made him settle for a "some time this week." As enthusiastic as he is about everything American, I can see him instantly deciding he's "in love" with an American girl, and...I'm not ready for that.

So, is there potential? Well, I don't know. He seems very sweet. He definitely liked me. But he also seems a bit...if I say "lacking in sophistication" do I come across as a pretentious snob? 'Cause I don't mean to. But he does seem a bit...simple in his tastes. If that makes sense. And not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just...not really ME. (You know...I like smart and complicated. Sometimes to my detriment, admittedly.) I am fully aware that my perceptions may be coming from his rudimentary English skills, though, and perhaps there's more to him than it seems at first glance, and certainly there are cultural differences to take into account, so...I'm not making any snap judgments. I promise. I do plan to see him again, and see how it goes.

There you have it. And that was certainly long story...long, wasn't it?

And edited to add: there was an email waiting in my inbox this morning, thanking me for the evening, so the boy's got some manners, it seems. That or his sister told him to. Hee.

Only in Oklahoma

Friday we had thundertorms. Saturday we had a blizzard, complete with thunder and lightning. (Well, Tulsa only got 6-8 inches of snow, with limited visibility, but the western part of the state had it much worse.) Sunday afternoon I was sitting outside on a patio, drinking wine and basking in the sun. (58 degrees.) Today should be in the 60s, and there's barely a trace left of all that snow. Just the remnants of a few pitifully melted snowpeople.

I'm used to wacky weather, but this? This is NUTS.

Tonight I am meeting Hot Mediterranean for coffee. A date arranged completely via email. He did try to call once, but I missed the call, and couldn't bring myself to return it. I am hoping that, in person, with the benefit of facial expressions and body language, that we will be able to at least communicate a little bit. I mean...I dated a man with severe aphasia for several months, surely I can at least get through coffee with this guy. Right? RIGHT?

Maybe there will at least be some good blog fodder. I'm doing it all for you, folks. You're welcome.

Hot Mediterranean?

This week has been kind of boring. Hence the lack of posts, I suppose. But it might be getting interesting! I'll explain.

A few days ago I broke my own rule and actually paid for a month of "catch.mom," lured in by the dangling of a "you have new email" message. I SWORE I would never do that again, but I did. And, of course, it was from a guy in Wisconsin whose profile was excellently written, but whose ensuing emails were, shall we say, NOT. When I expressed my indifference to long-distance relationships he insisted that he might be moving to Tulsa. When I asked him why he might be doing that, he disappeared. As I figured. Ah well, no harm, no foul, right? Well...$34.95 foul, but whatever. I left my profile as it was, but didn't do any searching of my own.

Then, a couple of days ago, I got another email. This one from a very good-looking guy who grew up "on the Mediterranean" not far from Greece, who's been in the U.S. for about a year. He's 7 years younger than me and likes to work out. He admitted that his English wasn't great yet, and that his brother helped him with his profile. I couldn't figure out why a good-looking much younger gym rat would be interested in having coffee with ME, but nevertheless, I said hello in return. He further revealed that he actually grew up in Lebanon, and responded with his phone number and personal email address if I would like to call.

(Side note: I completely understand why a Middle Eastern man might want to be somewhat vague about that in his profile, in these, the post-9/11 years. I'm sure there are many people who would write him off immediately for that, sadly. And it is true that Lebanon is on the Mediterranean, near Greece. It is also true that Tulsa has a sizable Lebanese community, that I have friends of Lebanese descent, and that I love falafel! Hee.)

Now, at this point, I remembered the saga of Sauntering Soul and her Hot Brazilian. She wasn't enthusiastic about their first meeting, either, but that turned out okay, so...I decided I would call. I was a bit nervous about the possible language barrier, and it took me a couple of days to get up my nerve, but last night I gave him a call.

Oh, my. To say English is his "second language" would be generous. He is very good at saying "ok--no problem," which he said a lot in response to my oft-repeated "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch..." I think we might be having coffee on Sunday afternoon. Maybe? No mention of where, though. To the best of my knowledge. Or exactly when. It's also quite possible that we'll be running away to join the circus tonight, or are we simply going to elope to Las Vegas on Monday? I HAVE NO IDEA. I am, however, pretty sure that he has to work tomorrow.

I had thought I would email him today, tactfully express my confusion as to our plans, and let him get his brother to help him respond. But I don't know. Maybe I'll just let things sit, and if he's truly motivated, he can find a way to communicate more clearly and get back in touch. What do you think? I'm sure you have opinions. Heh.

But there were no naps.

It was an action-packed weekend, for sure. Here we go.

Friday night, first a quick work-out, the fourth of the week, then dinner with Mr. Short Term, followed by MSNBC on his couch. It's not even a "real" relationship, and we're already predictable. Hee. (We were going to go for another walk, but it started raining.) He did tell me there's a possibility that he might be rearranging his work situation in a way that would allow him to travel less and actually maybe settle in somewhere. I just nodded to acknowledge I heard him, but made no commentary otherwise. I don't presume that this decision is in any way connected to wanting to spend more time with me. I will continue to presume this unless or until I have some reason to think otherwise. Seems like the wisest plan.

Saturday morning, up and at the housecleaning.

Saturday afternoon, readers' club. I went all out and took a bag of Doritos that I bought with my own two hands. Sorry, readers...there was no time for cooking. But it was a "two flavors in one bag" bag, including the tasty "Zesty Taco"--that should count for something, right? I drank some wine, gorged myself on deviled eggs and pecan bars and left very much wanting to take a nap. But there was no time.

I stopped by the liquor store to get beer for the evening's activities. And to allow the liquor store owner to properly debit my card for my last purchase. Earlier in the week, I bought some beer and they accidentally charged me $0.96 instead of $9.60. I didn't realize it until the next morning, so they told me they'd fix it the next time I came in, and thanked me very much for my honesty. I couldn't just let it slide--how guilty would I feel every time I went in there? And I LIKE this liquor store. They have a dog, and some parrots, and an aquarium, and enough plants to fill a greenhouse. I can't rip off (even accidentally) people who bring their dog to work! (He's a handsome beast, too...a huge brindled Great Dane.)

I was home long enough to feed the cats and take Pudge out, then it was off to a baby shower/party in a far south suburb. It turned out to be a smaller gathering than I was expecting...low-key and nice. A little awkwardness when it came to present opening time, though. Several small items had been purchased from the official registry list. I noticed mom-to-be's face looked a little confused a couple of times--apparently their 8-year-old daughter "helped" with the scanning of items for the list, and a few things got on there that weren't necessarily planned. They were little, inexpensive things at least, so if they aren't exactly what they wanted, it's no big deal. Thank goodness she didn't scan something big and expensive and completely inappropriate. Hee.

I asked the daughter if she was looking forward to having a little brother. "I don't like brothers." Ah, I explained, but you have a very BIG brother (14 years older) and this will be a very LITTLE brother, and YOU will be the boss. That seemed to cheer her up. Heh. (Yes, for those of you keeping track, that would be a 22-year-old, an 8-year-old, and soon, an infant. This nest may never be empty!) She was also very, very proud of a beautiful fluffy blue pillow she sewed for the new arrival. She's a very creative kid. She painted a beautiful floral still-life recently for her mom. I'm thinking of commissioning her for some new art. I have a few of her original works, but mostly from an earlier, more primitive phase. I'm particularly fond of a rainbow made with Fruit Loops, hanging under fluffy cotton ball clouds. She's way past that now, of course.

Sunday morning, church. You know how they say a smile is contagious? And I always think "they" need to shut up and stop telling me to smile? Well, maybe "they" ARE right. There was a family visiting church, and their oldest son had the most radiant smile I have ever seen. He was apparently developmentally disabled in some way, but he was just so happy to be there. Everything he looked at made him smile. And every time HE smiled, everyone else smiled. We should all be "disabled" like that.

After church, and post-church choir practice, I decided that I needed Indian food, so I drove south and went to my favorite Indian restaurant for the lunch buffet. My favorite sharply-dressed waiter was there--the one that always at least pretends to flirt with me. I'm sure he's just angling for bigger tips. (It worked, by the way.) Then I stopped at the Big Box Mart down the street for cat food, and made my way back north.

I couldn't stand the dead stuff and layer of leaves covering my flowerbeds one more day, so I did a first pass on cleaning those out. Much better!

Then I did my evening animal duties, sat down on the couch, and thought I might never get up again. If it was up to me, I'd still be there.

(Did I neglect to mention that I was suffering with terrible monthly cramps for at least half the weekend? And the spring pollen was making my eyes itch and my cheekbones hurt? And still I was a whirling dervish of activity? Consider it mentioned.)

So, what did YOU do this weekend?

A clumsy person's worst nightmare

I am so shocked and saddened at Natasha Richardson's passing. One minute she's walking and talking...then she's in a coma, then she's brain-dead. For a person who's more than a little accident-prone, it's sobering. Man, oh man.

Rover has returned home, in the form of a little wooden box of ashes, to take his place beside his old buddy, Payday. (There are several other buddies there, too, of course...but he and Payday were always particular friends.) It always gives me a sense of closure when the cycle is complete...but it makes me sad again, too. Not that I haven't been sad every day since it happened, plus all those days when I knew it was coming, but you know what I mean. Sigh.

Two of the younger kitties are now on monthly heartworm preventative, thanks to a friend who insisted on "sponsoring" them. Say it with me now...awwwww.

The new mediterranean deli near my house has an awesome vegetarian platter. I'm just sayin'. Cabbage roll, dolmas, falafel, tabouli, hummus, tzatziki, pita bread. Yummy. I hope they stay in business.

Not a peep out of Mr. Short Term this week. I'm trying to keep myself from giving in and calling or emailing him. Damn it, he should be the one to initiate contact sometimes. Gah.

Mr. Not-Quite-Divorced, with whom I have the ongoing email "relationship," has asked several times how I'm handling my grief, did I bury or cremate, etc. SOME guys are good at that stuff, it appears...even if they've never actually MET you. Heh.

I watched the new sitcom "Better Off Ted" last night. It was quirky. I liked it. It will probably soon be cancelled. That's the way it always works.

I have a baby "shower" to attend this weekend. Actually, it's a co-ed party celebrating the impending arrival of an...unexpected bundle of joy, but there will be gifts. I have no idea what I'm giving. I usually default to books, but their older daughter is very artsy, and quite a reader; I can't imagine there's a decent children's book that doesn't already live in their house. They're registered at Target--I'll find something. I'm guessing they didn't save much in the way of baby things from the first go-round, seeing as how there was a vasectomy, and no plans for any further procreation. PSA: did you know that, given time, a vasectomy can reverse itself? It's true. Did you know that the doctor who performed the original procedure may give you a second one for free? It's true. They're a little shell-shocked, I think, but excited, too.

I've exercised two whole times this week! Aren't you proud of me? Heh.

I'm sure I had more to say, but I can't at this moment think what it was, so...Liz out.

Weekend update. Warning: some of it's sad.

So...how was my weekend? Well, sit down, and I'll tell you all about it.

It was a busy weekend, fortunately. I was glad to have plenty of things going to take my mind off...other things.

Let's back up to early last week. You may remember that my cat Rover was diagnosed with heartworms a while back. Well...he'd been struggling, and struggling, and it had finally gotten to the point where I needed to think about making THE decision. So, early in the week, I called and made him an appointment for Friday afternoon, which I had off. I initially asked for a consult with the vet, with an eye to making the hard call if they concurred with my assessment. By Friday morning, it was clear no consulting was needed. He'd been retaining fluid in his abdomen for a while, and the swelling was just...out of control. He looked like he'd swallowed a soccer ball, poor baby.

Through it all, his appetite had never waned. Boy was HUNGRY, all the time. (Probably in part due to the prednisone he was taking.) And he never lost his appetite for snuggling and purring. Thursday...he stopped purring, but did eat four whole cans of Fancy Feast. (Nothing but the best at that point.) Friday morning...he stopped eating. I knew it was time.

So...he's gone. It was as sad as you would expect. At the last possible minute, though, as the sedative began to kick in, just before THE injection came...he started purring. The vet tech scritched and scratched behind his ears, and I rubbed his belly, and he purred for me one last time. I was so happy...in a devastatingly sorrowful kind of way. But I was hoping for one last purr, and I got it. Then he slipped quietly away. I'm beyond sad, of course...I'm crying now as I'm typing.

I had rehearsal scheduled for Friday night, which I thought would be a good thing. Take my mind off my sadness, and all. Our director had emailed to let us know we would be meeting at her house, as they were (finally) painting the building, and the fumes were pretty bad. Hey, I thought...they're painting. Maybe we're actually on track toward getting the building turned into a theatre! Maybe we can actually schedule this play! Umm...not so much, as it turns out. She plied us with wine, cheese, ice cream...and then broke the news that there are even FURTHER delays, and the rest of this season has been officially cancelled. We'll still do the show, but we'll do it NEXT season. November at the earliest. GAAAAHHHH! (I know, Julie, it's not your fault. It still sucks. Heh.) I think she thought we were all going to turn on her, maybe burn her at the stake, but...we just all accepted the news like the good little theatrical soldiers that we are. What else can you do?

So...I left the meeting, checked my phone, and noticed that Mr. Short Term had called. I had emailed him earlier in the day to see if he wanted to try to get together this weekend. He hadn't left a message, so I called him back. Him: "Didn't you get my message?" Me: "I didn't see a voicemail--did you leave one?" Him: "I emailed you earlier." Me: "Remember how I said I was leaving work and email access early today so you should CALL me?" Him: "Oh, well...I'm in Kansas City." Me: "Oh, okay." Him: "So how was your day?" Me: "Well, I had to put my cat down (which I had also mentioned in my email, which apparently he didn't actually read) and then my play got cancelled, so...not so good." Him: "Oh. Well, I'll be back in town in a few days. I'll call you. Got to go." WTF? Apparently he's not so good with the extending of sympathy. Why are men like that? New Guy never wanted to be around me if I was sad or upset about something. Grr.

Saturday was Cat Lady Lunch today, which was nice. THEY know how to be properly sympathetic about the loss of a perfect kitty. (He was, too...never did anything wrong. Got along with everybody. Perfect. Sniff.)

I made a phone call to my friend who directs the "Fridiron," leaving a message to the effect that I would be available this year after all, if she still needed me.

I ran a few errands (including buying myself several forms of comfort food at Whole Foods) and then decided I was just too drained to haul myself out of the house again for the "Nensa" meeting.

Sunday morning, church.

Finally heard back from the "Fridiron" director--I'm always welcome, of course, though there's a big cast again this year, and she doesn't know how many songs I'll get. Of course. Sigh. Still, it's something to do. I also offered the use of my "flat baby" (who starred in a previous year as Jayden James Federline--hee) as whichever oddly named Palin child we choose, figuring after the recent election cycle, there's bound to be plenty of Sarah Palin parodies being written. Her: "Oh, I was hoping Flat Baby could come back!" Bwah. (For those of you who don't know what a "fridiron" is--and replace the "f" with a "g"; I just don't want it googleable--it's a nonpartisan song and skit-based parody of political events and pop culture, both local and national.)

Sunday afternoon, wine and snacks and gossip (always gossip) with my former employer and co-workers from a long-ago job. (We were all laid off together--it created a bond. Hee.) We sat in the sunroom and rejoiced in the beauty of the lovely spring (again, thank goodness) day.

Sunday evening, watched the Amazing Race, fell asleep on the couch soon after.

So, that was my weekend. Highs and lows. I hope yours shared the highs and avoided the lows.

Sorry to disappoint

But there are no really good stories from the speed-dating. Once again, while it was not at all unpleasant, it was ultimately unproductive.

It started out a bit ragged...for some reason the usual venue was closed when the coordinator got there to set up. She freaked out, then started across the street to beg another bar or restaurant to take us on short notice. Fortunately, the place right across the street was willing, but she was understandably a little late getting things ready, and the layout wasn't super-organized.

So, we all sat the bar and chatted for a bit. Since it was a last-minute thing, there were no free appetizers. Bummer. I talked for a while with a couple of other women, both of whom knew each other from their Sunday School class. Then I chatted for a bit with the pleasant fellow on my other side...but it turned out he was there for the 29-42 group, and I was going with the 39-52 folks. Oh, well.

Then off we went. There were only five couples in my age group. The younger age group was larger, and they seemed livelier. Of the five possible guys, one was a retread from the last event I attended. He didn't pick me then, so I sure as hell wasn't going to pick him now, so...four guys. Not great odds.

The conversations all flowed pretty well. I didn't feel any immense attraction to any of them. The one guy I found somewhat physically appealing was kind of a goofball. He sat down and said instantly, "So, tell me all your deepest darkest secrets." My response: "Hey, that's what my blog is for!" "You have a blog!?" Then we veered off into a discussion of Facebook, which he recently joined, and that's kind of where we stayed. Him: "Facebook is so smart...how do they know all these people from my past? 'We think you might know...' It's crazy." Me: "Well, they just cross-reference the information you gave them when you filled out your profile." Him: "Oh." He seemed kind of disappointed, and I wanted to say "No, I mean...it's MAGIC!"

One other guy said he was also an actor. Me: "So how come I don't know you?" So diplomatic. He hasn't been in town all that long, and he usually works at theatres I don't work at, so our paths hadn't crossed. We did have some mutual friends, though, so we talked about that, mostly. He mentioned having been in a particular show last year that I didn't see, but remembered getting a pretty scathing review. I did NOT bring that up. Give me some credit. Heh. He had seen the show I did last year with sciatica. He "thought I looked familiar."

Then there was an oil and gas title attorney who just moved to town, and who lives in and LOVES the part of town I hate the most. Him: "Everything I need is close by. There's no reason to ever go anywhere else." Me: "I can't think of any reason to EVER go to that part of town. There is nothing there I need." (Again with the diplomacy.) Him: "I hear that a lot." Hee.

Who else...oh, an oil and gas engineer who likes to play golf. Yawn.

And, of course, the aforementioned returning player. I had to remind him that we'd done this before, and then he talked at length about how that last time didn't work out so well for him. I bit my tongue and did NOT say, "Maybe you picked the wrong girls, dillweed." The instant the bell rang, he jumped up and started off, then, turned and said, "I'm not being rude, am I? I did hear the bell?" Yes, dude, you did. Go.

So, that was that. I then went down the block and had an entertaining meal at one of my favorite restaurants, with a couple of the other participants. The two Sunday school women, of course. We compared notes on the guys, and filled in some gaps for each other on the information we had managed to pry out of them. And...that was that.

I logged in this morning and decided to go ahead and say "yes" on the actor and the goofball. So far...no one has said "yes" on me. I can't say I'm either surprised or disappointed. I'm just hoping they don't offer me yet another freebie. I'm a miser--I can't turn down FREE.

And...life goes on.

I should hang a banner.

"Mission Accomplished."

I am, at long last, the owner of a pair of purple sunglasses. They're not exactly what I had in mind, but they're cute, they're purple, and they were only $12.99 at Target! The cashier asked if I wanted to wear them out, but I wasn't really listening and thought she was just asking if I wanted to put them in my purse instead of a bag, so I said "yes." When she offered to cut the tag off for me, I realized what she was saying and my immediate (unspoken) reaction was: "Are you crazy? Purple sunglasses with THIS outfit?" I may have a teeny bit of a problem. Heh.

Yesterday was a good day all around--I also redeemed a free burrito at Qdoba, hung a few of my "chicken plates" on the wall above the stove, finished reading the book I started the night before, watched the Amazing Race, and sat around the house in shorts and a t-shirt because it was just that warm. Yay.

I plucked another book off my "borrowed" stack to start on, and took great delight in noticing that the colors of the cover coordinated EXACTLY with the bookmark I've been using. (Copper and teal.) Every time I pick up the book and pull the bookmark out, I am momentarily content. If you don't understand that, well...then you must not be OCDish with a thing about color-coordinating, is all I can say.

Saturday was mostly a "lay around the house in my pajamas" day. (Weekly housecleaning aside, of course. And the laundry went out on the line to dry. Yay, spring! Sorry to keep rubbing that in, all you folks still in the snow.)

Friday night was spent in the company of Mr. Short Term. We actually had a very lovely "date." We went down to the Riverparks and took a long walk, hand-in-hand. Yes, it was 9:00 p.m., but we didn't even need jackets, 'cause it was just that nice. (Sorry.) Then we stopped at the grocery store for veggies, pita bread and hummus, and went back to his place and nibbled and drank beer and cuddled on the couch. I've decided the deal with Mr. Short Term is that he wears blinders much of the time. When he's working, he's WORKING, and I'm not sure he even remembers I exist. When I pop into his field of vision again, then he thinks, "Oh, HER. I like HER." And he's all sweet and affectionate and all about ME...until he goes back to work and forgets I exist again. Heh. Well, it beats the alternative, right? Someone who thinks about me all the time, but treats me like crap in person?

So, doesn't that sound like a nice weekend? Too bad the whole thing was blown to hell when I had to drag myself out of bed this morning, an hour earlier than my body was expecting, and in the DARK. Gah. Double gah.

Speed-dating tonight, folks! I'll try to have some interesting tales for you tomorrow.

My house is haunted.

It's true. I seem to have a ghost. But I think the ghost is a cat. I keep hearing noises, noises that sound specifically animal in origin, but when I look in the direction of the noise...there's nothing there. Once it came from behind the shower curtain. A couple of days ago I heard a specific "cat messing with a plant" noise...but I was staring straight at the plants, and there was nary a cat in sight. Yesterday I came home to find a cluster of cats in one corner of the room, staring intently at...nothing. A couple of their tails were puffed up. I hope it's a friendly ghost, at least.

It is so beautiful and warm here I can hardly stand it. I'm sorry for those of you who haven't experienced the freakish early spring thing this year, but it's something like 80 degrees here. Crazy. I've got the A/C running in my office.

Either tonight or tomorrow night I'll be seeing Mr. Short Term. Other than that, it's an unplanned weekend again. Then the following weekend is going to be jam-packed. I'm all feast or famine on the weekends here, it seems.

I haven't heard anything further from Brandon Walsh. I'm okay with that. At least I know not to take it personally. I could have done with a bit more "you're intelligent and beautiful and nice" though, just to prop up the old ego. Heh.

Monday night is the rescheduled speed-dating round you've all been waiting for. Theoretically, at least. It's been rescheduled three times now...maybe third time's the charm!

Enjoy your own feast or famine.

Belated Weekend Update

Are we too far past the weekend for an update? Well, too bad. Here it is, anyway.

Let's see...Friday night. Went to Mr. Short Term's place, drank beer, ate veggies and fruit and guacamole and chips, and pretty much fell asleep on the couch watching MSNBC. We are exciting! (And we were tired.)

Saturday morning, cleaned the house.

Saturday afternoon, met "Brandon Walsh of 90210" (hee) for lunch at my favorite restaurant. He was very sweet. "You're even prettier than your picture." He's smart, easy to talk to, we have a lot of similar philosophies...I wish he was 10 years younger. Was there physical chemistry? Well, none that would knock your socks off (you know, like New Guy), but none of that "omigod, never in a million years" gut reaction, either. I just...wish he was 10 years younger. Heh. We had a nice time, and he gave me a little hug in the parking lot. I left having decided that I would be willing to go out again, thinking if nothing else, we could have a nice friendship. Oh...and he did pass the sweet-and-sour test...though just barely. He ordered fried rice.

Stopped at Whole Foods on the way home for the ingredients to make my world-famous goat cheese and sundried tomato dip--this time I added artichoke hearts, too. YUMMY.

Saturday evening I went to Readers Club, toting with me a whole bunch of finished books to return to their owners. Yay! I brought home a couple of new ones to add to the to-be-read stack, and I also brought home some oh-so-delightful chicken plates (no, not plates on which to eat chicken, though I suppose you could--plates decorated with chickens), and some cute little cloth napkins. Our hostess and her sister-in-law were downsizing the contents of their kitchen cabinets. (Thanks, George! And Megan!) I heart my new chicken plates. And my napkins. (And the Ethiopian-style stewed lentil leftovers that went home with me, as well, and became an entry in the Facebook Breakfast Chronicles, for those of you playing along at home.)

Then I went home and crumpled into a heap on the couch.

Sunday morning I sent a quick email to Brandon Walsh, thanking him for lunch, it was nice meeting him. Polite.

Went to church, and then met up with my parents afterwards to go to lunch, and then the mall. (Two new bras, two new tank tops, courtesy of my mom. Whoo hoo.) Then we went back to my house to pin Pudge down and trim the eagle talons he has been blessed with at the end of his feet. Only drew blood once! (Poor Pudge. And damn those black toenails.)

And...I think that was pretty much it. Settled in on the couch, watched Amazing Race.

Monday I expected to hear back from Brandon Walsh--at least a little "it was nice to meet you, too" email. Nothing. Likewise on Tuesday. I started to get a little pissed off, on general principles. I thought he was a nice guy! We talked about the importance of mutual civility! He knows I dislike rudeness! Aarggh!

This morning I got an email...apologizing for the tardy response. He's been thinking about me every day, wanted to call rather than email, which he finds impersonal, but had been working late nights (no reason to doubt that, for the record, he told me his schedule...I don't know when he would have time to date even if we did decide to, frankly), I'm very beautiful and intelligent, he wants to see me again, BUT...he has concerns about the age difference. So do I, Brandon, so do I. Sigh. So...I emailed back that I shared his concerns, but that if he wanted to go to dinner again at some point, I would be happy to do so...maybe we can be friends. (I'm trying to think if I have any female friends I could fix him up with....hmmm....)

Mostly I just wanted to hear from him because I am SO TIRED of these guys that disappear without a trace. SO TIRED. It's so easy to be relatively polite these days--we have email. If it's too difficult to do the face-to-face "I didn't feel a connection" thing, you can do it painlessly via the interweb. I've done it myself--I'm all for avoiding awkwardness whenever possible.

So, that's that. I'm still having a hot-and-heavy email "relationship" with the almost-divorced guy. I think it's a good litmus test, actually. If emailing with him is more fun than an actual face-to-face with a guy....then that's NOT the guy. Right? Right.

In the meantime, I just need a few more Mr. Short Terms, to keep things interesting while I wait. Heh.

And now, a super-planned weekend.

Last weekend I had no plans--this weekend I've got nothing but.

Tonight I'll be seeing Mr. Short Term. I didn't see him last week, and actually hadn't talked to him in a couple of weeks, after I vowed to stop calling him for a while (as I was tired of always feeling like I'd interrupted him during brain surgery or something--hee), and told him if he wanted to see me, he should feel free to call. Which he did, finally, so we're getting together this evening.

Tomorrow, I'll be having lunch with the new older guy I mentioned before (the one who facebook friended me)--I'm going to refer to him as Brandon Walsh. Not because that's his name, but because his real name IS the same as a character from the original 90210, and that makes me laugh. We're going to my favorite restaurant--any bets on the sweet-and-sour test?

Tomorrow evening is the monthly readers club. I'm returning a sizable stack of books to their rightful owners--it was a good month for reading.

Sunday morning, church. I don't like to miss church during Lent. I no longer give up anything for Lent, so it seems the least I can do is make it to church regularly during that time.

Then I think my parents might come to town Sunday afternoon for a late lunch. My mother wants to, as she put it, "get out of Dodge." Heh.

Sunday evening I may or may not go to a party kicking off this year's "Fridiron" production. It's not looking like I'll be able to do the show, due to my ongoing commitment to the play that still hasn't been scheduled (I know it's not your fault, Julie, if you're reading!), but if I'm in the mood, it might be fun to go have a few beers with the rest of the folks. They're a pretty genial bunch, generally.

Now, for those of you who are my facebook friends, both Brandon Walsh and Mr. Short Term are also my friends. Bonus points if you can accurately guess who they are! (But don't mention it on my wall, please. A little discretion. Heh.)

Enjoy your own heavily or lightly scheduled weekends.

Bits and pieces and things I don't get

My "unplanned" weekend...went exactly as planned. Heh.

On Saturday, I never even got out of my pajamas. Which didn't stop me from making a couple of trips to the office to feed the kitty, or from pulling through the Sonic for a junior breakfast burrito. Of course, my "pajamas" this time of year are flannel sleep pants and a fleece pullover, so it's not as if I was cavorting around town clad in nothing but a see-through lace nightie.

I did a lot of reading, and managed to finish the hefty tome I'd been working on, "Great Captain," by Honore Morrow (a fictionalized account of Lincoln's presidency, written in the late 20s), in plenty of time to return it to its owner at the readers club meeting next weekend. I think I've polished off at least 6 books since last month's meeting. Go, me!

Sunday I went to church and the grocery store, watched Amazing Race (welcome back!) and dozed through the Oscars.

Last night I watched the presidential address, and I didn't once want to throw a heavy object through my television screen. Whoo hoo! I thought it was a very good speech, and kudos to the Republicans present for at least occasionally putting their partisanship aside and applauding along with everyone else. (It was good to see Justice Ginsberg out and about, as well. You go, girl!)

I also watched Bobby Jindal's "response" speech, and...someone needs to tell Mr. Jindal that we KNOW he's a brainy policy wonk (I may differ with his philosophy, but he's always seemed intelligent), and that folksy "Mr. Rogers talking to kindergarteners" vibe he was trying to pull off was an abject failure. "Americans...CAN...do ANYthing." Cue attempt at charming smile. He came across as a total goof. You can't do folksy, Bobby! Stop trying! I suppose he's trying to out-Palin Palin, but he should play to his strengths. Or not. Keep up the good work, Mr. Jindal-MY party appreciates it. Heh.

Tell me, if you will, on what planet telling a guy to "stick it up his a**" (and yes, I used the asterisks, 'cause I'm a lady) should, in response, net you an invitation to a concert? Planet CRAZY? Yes, we're talking about Insane Guy here, who, when I took too long to respond to an email, once again told me to go jump in the river, 'cause he was tired of "being a nice guy." I replied that he wasn't being a NICE guy, he was being a PUSHY guy, and that I, too, was tired of being nice, so...stick it. I didn't expect to hear from him again, and was completely surprised when his next message was a polite invitation to attend a concert with him. WTF? Why in the world would I agree to meet someone who has twice, with very little provocation, told me to jump into an icy-cold body of water? Does he think I am Insane Girl? Sheesh. I didn't respond, and have heard no further from him.

Speaking of hearing no further, here's another thing I don't get. What in the world possesses these guys to INITIATE contact, eventually ASK YOU to meet for dinner/drinks, BEGIN the process of deciding where/when and then...disappear. It's happened again, this time with the singer I was supposed to meet, and I truly don't get it. Why bother to start something you have no intention of finishing? I refuse to believe that there's something about the way I type "Tuesday's no good for me, what about Wednesday" that is inherently repulsive. These guys are just insane. I hear it's going around.

I must have popped back up to the top of flentyofpish again, as I have been getting some new attention there. Nothing too noteworthy so far. I also have exchanged phone numbers with an older guy (60, but he swears it's a young 60) on a different site. We had started to communicate with our personal email addresses, and yesterday I got a facebook request from him. I dithered a bit, trying to decide if I should ignore it, 'cause we really don't know each other yet, blahblahblah, and finally decided that I'd go ahead and confirm, and that way I could check HIM out, as well. Well, joke's on me...he's brand-new to facebook, and so far...I'm his only friend. And now HE gets to see what I've eaten for breakfast every day for the last week?! No fair. Hee. Oh, well...I figure if I can let people I haven't seen since high school, and don't remember ever actually speaking to, see what I'm up to, what's one more virtual stranger checking in, really? I'm not ashamed of my untraditional breakfast choices, after all.

Last night I called New Guy. I was planning to wish him Happy Mardi Gras (he's a Louisiana boy, remember), and suggest that if he needed to give up something for Lent, he could try giving up hurting my feelings by not returning my phone calls in a timely manner. Well, thank goodness he answered before I could leave my snarky message. Turns out he's in Louisiana right now...his mother died. I'm so sad for him, and SO glad he didn't have to hear my snarkiness at this particular moment. (Of course, he SHOULD have called me back right away, but...he's off the hook this time.)

I'm trying to decide if I want to go to the big church downtown at noon for my Ash Wednesday ashes, or go to my little church tonight. Remember how last year the priest preached on and on and on, and then gave me the ash cross to top all ash crosses? No? You don't remember every single thing I've ever blogged about? Shame on you. Heh.