And on the seventh day...

This blog is an effort to blog without a point. Inspired by a dear friend responding to my crisis of 'tween project boredom (though I think she was just tired of having to amuse me on gchat all day...) I've decided to write something about the thing I know best.

Not pharmaceutical strategy.

So last week I experienced an entire birth and collapse of a relationship. In my head. The week started out normally: I asked out a girl I thought was cute not knowing she was overly invested in one of my best friends or that she had previously, as she would again attempt, five days later, ask out said friend in my presence. (Par for the course when you have hot friends. A blessing and a curse.)

Back to the story. So we went out. It was great! It was great in that very topically oriented, amusing but superficial, energetic but a-chemically inclined, first date kind of way. I wasn't astonished to learn that my preconceptions of her were entirely wrong though, despite falling short of insta-love, I didn't mind drinking beer shooters across a tiny table and would have, in fact, done that repeatedly for some indefinite amount of time. Perfect. The wooden shelves that the beer came on were bigger than the plates our burgers came on and this was helpful because, as I mentioned, I clearly didn't get the memo about her sustained preoccupation with my friend and the beer helped a LOT to keep me in the dark. (One could argue that I did get that memo, but dismissed it in a convenient kind of way. And if one would like to argue that, they can start their own blog to do so. <3)

After Monday, still absorbed by my delusion, I was unclear if we had plans to get together again. We have about a billion mutual friends so I figured I'd undoubtedly 'hang out' with her soon... (A billion mutual friends is a sure sign that if things move past 1 week they're going to either blow up or be fantastical-- until they blow up.) Needless to say (I totally spoiled the twist in the third sentence) the whole adventure didn't get anywhere NEAR a week. And I have to wonder how I came off with such a different idea of what we were up to (achem, on a DATE).

I think I thought we were on a date because: I paid, I maintained 'engaged' body language, I told her about the time I thought waxing my legs was the most desperate, selfless thing I could do to win a girl back, I only referenced an ex girlfriend 5 or 6 times (to make it clear that I date women), and I made an awkward attempt to hook her belt loop when we were walking aimlessly around the park. Maybe the un-date-ness of the situation should have been confusing/telling/obvious when I/we never managed to kiss (her) after 4 hours of banter. On the upside this means we're able to maintain a semblance of propriety around our friends sans furtive apologetic email writing to all those that share the room with us.

I see all this in retrospect but what I had started to write about was the insecurity that comes with dating. (You know, back when I thought I would see her again. Alone. On another (used loosely) date.) At what point do you really need to figure out how you feel about someone? Day 2? Date 2? Date 574? At what point do you chalk something up to just wanting to be enrolled in classes again without really paying attention to whether you end up in a history of WWII or a figure drawing class? And how do you know you're ready to deal with homework and tests and 'that guy' again?? I'm leaning towards going back for a masters but I can't even decide if I want an MFA or a masters in finance... I hear both are equally useful these days. Oh how my father is cringing right now...

Eff. I've lost track of my metaphor.

So far this birth-year (clearly starting at the dawn of march) I've chased a wife, a wounded warrior, a divorcee and an auctioneer. None of which were actual candidates for a sustained relationship. And that was just the last 2 months. Aside from all those unhealthy undertakings, my very first girlfriend and her FIANCEE are staying with me (femme meets flamer. I'm unclear if that's ironic or a stab at the Republican Press endorsing same-sex marriage), I talk to my proximal-ex daily, I txt my favorite 'mexican' whenever I 'accidently' land on Fox News, and more than anything, I can't stand when someone tells me what to do. I'm a child with a blog.

Oh! I have a point!!!

I don't know what I want right now but I know what my objective in this whole department is. And getting there is proving difficult because failing at stuff is REALLY REALLY bogus. But I'm getting used to it. Like it's less of a failure and more like highschool. You remember: that time people dated people based on who got new kicks that week? I missed highschool. Missed like skipped. I was a lesbian (lesbian = married) in highschool. Did I mention I kissed a butch lesbian this weekend?

(Tav, I love you, now pick your jaw up off the floor.)