I had the strangest dream last night. Bear with me for a moment.
You and I and the rest of the usual suspects were in this huge, loft-like house, with 12-to-15-foot ceilings, and giant appliances and cavernous rooms and floor-to-ceiling modern-looking cabinets everywhere. The fridge alone was like 7 or 8 feet high, and there were maybe three separate kitchens in the house. It was like a showroom, except I lived there. Of course, I was trying to get unpacked and settled in, and everyone there was helping or keeping me company or getting ready for the party. Surpringly, the whole thing seemed sane, not too frantic.
Von was in the kitchen with Gee, and you and I were talking on the couch, when you took me by the shoulders and kissed me. Soon after, you got your coat and went out to run some errand for the housewarming party.
Surprise surprise, my subconscious thinks the house is huge and overwhelming. (To be fair, some really bad things have happened, like the bleeding delivery man, the electrical mess-up, the sewage overflow and the mis-installed fridge.) And I've been frantic and cranky and sensitive, and I want people to help me and support me with everything. But maybe I've been more difficult with you because I'd like to date you and you don't seem to feel the same, and so I was disappointed. And so I act badly sometimes, and so I'm sorry.
I don't want this to be bad for our friendship, so I'll sack up. But the house will continue to be crazy-inducing for a while, so I can't promise to totally chill.
Get home safe, see you soon.
...And that, my friends, is what I sent to the Lumberjack last night to get this stalled vehicle moving. Whether it's the death knell that brings the tow truck, or the jump start that starts us purring down the road, I don't care. I just want to move on.
And yes, I really did have that dream. Maybe I'll sell the house?
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Yeah! Good for you. You had the guts to put your heart on the table. You didn't do it in any "i'd be the luckiest gal in the world" if you dated me -- which should send off alarm bells -- at least they do for me when men do that. You did it in a "there's a reason why I've been cranky" and this is it.
I recently got up the courage to give my card to a bartender who had been hitting on me for months -- even as we went through various girlfriends.
At first, I didn't even notice him. He looked too young, too frat-boyish and too hipsterish. But he said some very nice things. I began to listen. I decided to visit his bar more often. Got a little drunk a few times. Enough to annoy him because I couldn't get up my nerve and he always seemed to have "girlfriends." This guy went through the kind of motions you'd expect from a guy into you. Touching my arm. Telling me how cute I am. How talented I am. How cool I am. Kissing me on the lips on my birthday. Undercharging me $30 at least on the bar bill -- much of which was for my roommates. And undercharging me constantly -- 100s of dollars worth of drinks. But it was all for tips I guess. Pretty pathetic since I tip well.
A month ago, I was hanging at his bar for a drink. I had PMS so I was stressed. He decided to inform me about a woman he's dating who was sweet and thoughtful but not a pushover. She had just sent him a "I'm the luckiest gal in nyc." Not a pushover. Jesus, I nearly vomited and just started drinking more. And lamenting my love life. He promised I would meet someone cool. Whatever. Then after my 3rd pity beer, I noticed a rather fetching guy eyeing me all night. He invited me off finally. I had a few more beers. And so I was kind of drunk. Well, some dork is talking about his dippy date -- who he doens't even call his girlfriend -- and some good looking dude with a phd and a nice guitar collection and an eu passport is talking me up. I had to stay. So, dork with dippy date gets all mad because I'm kind of drunk only because of what he said. Etc. The next week I returned to his bar with a peace offering -- a pineapple -- and left my card. I apoologized and thanked him for all the nice things he had said to me (he probably didn't remember because he probably says them to every chick in his bar -- i could have had horns out of my head and he would have chatted me up).
Last night, I was at his bar for a music event. I ignored him. He didn't say a word to me. Probably threw my card away. But I had the courage to give it to him and be vulnerable.
Now we don't talk. He probably is buying a ring for dippy chick. After all, don't you say you're the luckiest girl on the planet when some guy gives you a rock? Kind of strange. But I also noticed when I don't talk to him I don't find him attractive. So, if I just look at him, I figure -- no big loss. Still, you did a good thing. Even if it doesn't work out to your liking -- you put yourself out there.
But I had the courage.
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