Not a lot has happened this past week, in the dating life of... well... myself. So here are a few snippets.
Act 1: Wednesday
Enter New Character: Working Class
If you give a mouse a cookie he will ask for a glass of milk. BUT... If you give a boy a car, he wont even ask for your phone number.
There are always a those few constants in your life- those that you have known for a while but have yet to make a move on, for what ever reason. It is bad enough if they are past even the mere point of no return, the dreaded "friend" trump card (as in, it becomes awkward if they are to the point where you might as well be an androgynous Barbie doll, with out the un-proportionately shapely figure- or worse yet a "sister figure"). But- it is even more disastrous if you have not reached that (being the friend) point for several months now and still both parties have yet to make any sort of move. That is saying there is some sort of interest, but something (oh, say, a kid or a girlfriend/wife) slowing the progression towards a dating sort of get to know you. That is the preceding scenario.
There is this gentlemen who I have known for about 5 months now on a very sporadic, causal basis. We talk, but never hang out. In order to ease some sort of boarder line friend potential tension, I decided to give this one particular individual a car. Yes, a car. No, not just any car- a cop car. Here is the scoop- I was talking to, oh, lets call him for namesake, Working Class the previous week about cops and how much we both respected them, until they decided to pull out unwarranted attitude problems with us, to which our opinions of Washington's finest quickly evaporate. We shared stories about such occasions in our lives. In the past couple months or so that I have known Working Class, we have shared many tales and many times there have been flirtatious vibes and often times blatant comments to make me think that Working Class had some interest in me. All of these realizations started to develop while we were talking about the po-lice and such.
It was this particular conversation that looped my memory back to the toy cop car that I had laying on the floor of my Chevy Caviler. Clever as I am, I decide that I am going to give this car to Working Class and, considering I see him on no regular basis, I was going to keep the toy in my purse and give it to him the next time our paths crossed. It wasn't until about a week later that this event actually transpired. And, much like I ran over a bajillion times in my head, I absent-mindedly remembered that I had "something for him". I told him he could keep it on his desk at work or something- and then I took off to an "appointment", which was completely legitimate because I actually did have a hair appointment. I was going to write about this, but I had hoped something would have came of it by now. Unfortunately, it has (again) almost been a week, and I have yet to run into him again.
Act 2: Friday
The corner can drop you off at the end of the world
I went out with just Wifey and Friend-of-a-Friend this day. I think my feelings for Friend-of-a-Friend are waning- and maybe getting a little too comfortable, as I mentioned at the very start of this particular blog (and, of course, right as I type this sentence, who else should walk into the lovely Bauhaus then him. Fuck my life). I tried some flirty tactics on our evening out. Example: we made a bet that I couldn't spit out an open window and hit a car. I claim I did, he claims I didn't (but there is no way that one could miss that unless they were not looking...) I guess there might just happen to be a few factors would lead him to not pay attention to where I was actually spitting: 1.) my proclamation that "I'm a spitter" and 2.) In order to spit, I was practically standing over him while he was seated. Actually, there was no "practically" about it. '
I also ran into a Coffee Shop Boy that I have, if nothing else, a friend crush on. We never really talked before, just exchanged either nervous glances or pleasant small, no... minuscule, talk. So it was on this particular day, and this particular moment when he was outside of Cha Cha's that I loudly addressed him in this exact manner "Hey! It's Coffee Shop Boy**, Hey Coffee Shop Boy**!" and then didn't even stop to talk beyond that point of order.
Anyway, I decided that I was going to go home- instead of staying the night at my Wifey's- when our night ceased. I had walked with Friend-of-a-Friend, as he two was on his way home (which happened to be in the same, yet general, direction as my car)- I was a little surprised, admittedly, when he didn't walk me to my car all the way, per se. I think, if he really was interested in me, then he probably would have walked me the last block to my car- instead, we parted ways and that was that.
Act 3: Saturday
It doesn't hurt to flirt... and I am sure that is what countless females have thought before being raped or murdered.
I worked at a festival today. I sat at a booth and promoted the non-profit I work for. It was quite enjoyable. At one booth, across the way from us, there was a gentlemen who kept looking over my way. He wasn't my type and was probably a bit older than I would have preferred, but I returned the smiles. It never hurts, right? At any rate, he left his booth to come over and talk at least four times. Other than that, he never really left his booth. He was nice enough for me not to brush him off, but again, nothing that I was going to actively per sue at that moment.
Wifey and I were going to go out after I got back, but I realized sometime between the night before and that exact moment my license had been lost. We looked and called and snooped between the lines, but to no avail. I even thought I had a back-up at one point in time, but that fell through thanks to shotty Public Safety officers at Seattle University.
We went to Wall-E instead. It was a great movie, but I cried a little when I realized that I would never find someone as good and as genuine as that robot, Wall-E. And, to top the ice-cream cake with a cherry- effing animated robots can fall in love, and I- a non-fictitious character in my own life's play, can not do such a thing! Preposterous!
Act 4: Sunday
Gone but not forgotten.
I spent today out of the Seattle area to visit my mother. In a remote way, nothing happened and I should have nothing to talk about if I was not in the city and no where near datable men- except the Scooter boy was apparently back at Bauhaus, striking me with his extended cuteness even as far away as I was. I was very jealous that I was not there. I asked Wifey to tell him hi for me, but she didn't do it. She said one of our other friends would do it for me, but he didn't either. I think they either chickened out or were too wrapped up in their own games. I would gladly do my own beckoning, should I have been there... but I wasn't, so I tried a feeble attempt to make a move from 140 miles away. And though I enjoyed visiting my madre, it would have been nice to see Scooter Boy again. I must be more vigilant now that I know he is there frequently, and not just one fluke time.