19 Mar 08
Wonders never cease
Mr. Coffee must subscribe to the blog and felt compelled to do something so bizarre that I would be sure to write about it.
A necessary prologue; last week, Mr. Coffee asked me to lunch. We met up, started to talk and eat when two gentlemen passed by that he recognized. They recognized him as well, said hello, exchanged quick pleasantries and sat down at a table right next to us. Mr. Coffee told me that he was going to go over to their table to have lunch with them for a little while and then come back to me. They had not invited him or even expressed any interest in meeting up with him later. He then proceeded to gather his entire lunch and moved over to the adjacent table, asking me as he left to make sure he didn’t forget his lunch cooler. I was stunned and hurt. I conspicuously finished my lunch and tried to appear perfectly okay to have been so thoroughly dissed. While sitting there I decided that he was dead to me and that this would be the last time I talked to him. I’m not one for scenes or confrontation so when he returned, resuming our conversation like he’d never been away, I let it be and didn’t call him out on it.
Later that day, he called me and I then informed him that he was dead to me. Yes, I used those words exactly. I explained that what he did at lunch was the rudest thing anyone has ever done to me. He tried lamely to provide some sort of justification before giving up and saying that he 100 percent agreed with me and that he was wrong and was very sorry. I told him that I would take his apology under consideration. He asked if he should keep apologizing and I told him no. He asked what he could do and I told him, “show me.” He said “ok” and then we hung up.
I hadn’t heard from him since and didn’t expect to. Today, he called me. I answered the phone and he began to sing to me;
“imagine me and you, I do
I think about you day and night, it's only right
To think about the girl with the hurting hand (or something like that)
So happy together.” I’m not even sure I need to go on. But I must.
So after he stopped singing he told me that he’d been thinking about my hand and wondering how I was doing. He was concerned about nerve damage and what feeling I may have lost. I know, totally bizarre. But it gets better.
I mentioned that I had a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and he asked if I wanted him to come with me. I told him that I didn’t even know why he would say such a thing as we both knew he would do no such thing. He was adamant that he would and insisted that I take down his phone number to call him if I didn’t feel like driving to work from my appointment. It’s worth noting that my appointment is 45 minutes from work.
Let the record reflect reasons 46 and 45 why I’m single.
**This concludes the Mr. Coffee series**
Showing posts with label About a boy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label About a boy. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Original Blog: "Why I like the Samurai"
28 Jan 08
Why I like the Samurai
In my one substantive conversation with Mr. Coffee we were talking about making big decisions and he said something that I just loved; “Mind only the small things.” He said it was from something he read about the Samurai philosophy. I wouldn’t do it justice to try to recount it all but it moved me. It would have nice to get to know him had he not been him. A guy like him who actually knew what divorced meant before he used it in a sentence to describe his marital status. Very un-Samurai.
Why I like the Samurai
In my one substantive conversation with Mr. Coffee we were talking about making big decisions and he said something that I just loved; “Mind only the small things.” He said it was from something he read about the Samurai philosophy. I wouldn’t do it justice to try to recount it all but it moved me. It would have nice to get to know him had he not been him. A guy like him who actually knew what divorced meant before he used it in a sentence to describe his marital status. Very un-Samurai.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Original blog: Embarrassment of Riches
21 Jan 08
Embarrassment of Riches
I’m stuck. Do I write about my embarrassing breakdown when my mother was admitted to the hospital over the weekend? Or what about the poignancy with which my father entertained moving to Baltimore because he loved my mother and wanted her to be near the hospital in the city we’ve all grown to hate?
I could write about my new seamstress who is so classic sweet old lady that she deserves her own sitcom. Her blond hair stands at least (and I swear I’m not exaggerating) 4-6 inches from her head, teased to high heaven and frozen with still visible beads of hair spray. She has now twice held me hostage in her house for interminable periods of time telling stories, showing pictures, educating me on my ill fitting bra and recommending sizes I’ve never heard of or seen in stores, showing me her ‘certified undergarment fitter’ pin, and various other things. She is so sweet but I left her house tonight thinking I might either never return or I would have to engineer natural and timely escapes for every visit.
Even still, I could write about lunch with Mr. Coffee where his wife is making steady progression. Today she was estranged and the “r” word (reconciliation) was even used. My God, I must run far, far, away from this man.
Or I could write about how exposed I feel now that I’ve given the blog wider (but still ridiculously modest) exposure and explore what it means that I think I’d be more comfortable with total strangers reading it.
Or I could just go to bed.
Embarrassment of Riches
I’m stuck. Do I write about my embarrassing breakdown when my mother was admitted to the hospital over the weekend? Or what about the poignancy with which my father entertained moving to Baltimore because he loved my mother and wanted her to be near the hospital in the city we’ve all grown to hate?
I could write about my new seamstress who is so classic sweet old lady that she deserves her own sitcom. Her blond hair stands at least (and I swear I’m not exaggerating) 4-6 inches from her head, teased to high heaven and frozen with still visible beads of hair spray. She has now twice held me hostage in her house for interminable periods of time telling stories, showing pictures, educating me on my ill fitting bra and recommending sizes I’ve never heard of or seen in stores, showing me her ‘certified undergarment fitter’ pin, and various other things. She is so sweet but I left her house tonight thinking I might either never return or I would have to engineer natural and timely escapes for every visit.
Even still, I could write about lunch with Mr. Coffee where his wife is making steady progression. Today she was estranged and the “r” word (reconciliation) was even used. My God, I must run far, far, away from this man.
Or I could write about how exposed I feel now that I’ve given the blog wider (but still ridiculously modest) exposure and explore what it means that I think I’d be more comfortable with total strangers reading it.
Or I could just go to bed.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Original blog: "Put on a Happy Face"
17 Jan 08
Put on a Happy Face
Eek. Faithfully following through on my determinations, I sent the link to several people. I now fear an intervention. I added a fourth bullet to the FAQ page explaining that I’m not about to off myself and I’ll add to that a Captain Obvious point; I’m a little melodramatic. Normal people would take a little bump on the head like Mr. Coffee and hardly find it worth mentioning. I’ve managed to turn it into a mini-series. This blog is like a small town paper; you can tell a lot about the town by what makes the news. I clearly don’t have a lot going on and it takes very little to make my life interesting enough to inspire me to write about it.
Moving on...and speaking of Mr. Coffee, there is nothing further on Mr. Coffee. He has become industrious and busy beyond compare. Today I got a “hi, omg, geez are we super busy here today.” I so favor bluntness in favor of that tack. It would be super lovely to hear instead “hi omg i totally called this one wrong. i’m not ready for this/upon further reflection, i’m not into you/my wife was actually just mad at me and has now moved back in...” It would be nice just to tie a little bow on this once promising blip. I’m resisting (for now) the temptation to dissect our few interactions to figure precisely when I freaked him out or turned him off. I’ll save that for when I feel like popping in High Fidelity and ruminating over my failed relationships with John Cusack. Such an awesome film.
I’ve often told my friends that I know I will be okay if I never meet anyone and live happily; it just doesn’t happen for everyone and that kind of thing does not come easy for me if it comes easy for anyone. But all that went out the window the moment that someone showed an interest in me. I will have a good life regardless but there is really nothing in life that compares to the feeling that it might just be happening after all.
Put on a Happy Face
Eek. Faithfully following through on my determinations, I sent the link to several people. I now fear an intervention. I added a fourth bullet to the FAQ page explaining that I’m not about to off myself and I’ll add to that a Captain Obvious point; I’m a little melodramatic. Normal people would take a little bump on the head like Mr. Coffee and hardly find it worth mentioning. I’ve managed to turn it into a mini-series. This blog is like a small town paper; you can tell a lot about the town by what makes the news. I clearly don’t have a lot going on and it takes very little to make my life interesting enough to inspire me to write about it.
Moving on...and speaking of Mr. Coffee, there is nothing further on Mr. Coffee. He has become industrious and busy beyond compare. Today I got a “hi, omg, geez are we super busy here today.” I so favor bluntness in favor of that tack. It would be super lovely to hear instead “hi omg i totally called this one wrong. i’m not ready for this/upon further reflection, i’m not into you/my wife was actually just mad at me and has now moved back in...” It would be nice just to tie a little bow on this once promising blip. I’m resisting (for now) the temptation to dissect our few interactions to figure precisely when I freaked him out or turned him off. I’ll save that for when I feel like popping in High Fidelity and ruminating over my failed relationships with John Cusack. Such an awesome film.
I’ve often told my friends that I know I will be okay if I never meet anyone and live happily; it just doesn’t happen for everyone and that kind of thing does not come easy for me if it comes easy for anyone. But all that went out the window the moment that someone showed an interest in me. I will have a good life regardless but there is really nothing in life that compares to the feeling that it might just be happening after all.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Original blog: "Lowered Expectations"
Original post date: 15 Jan 08
Lowered Expectations
The Beatles were on to something. I’m already nostalgic for yesterday. Yesterday, Mr. Coffee asked me out and I was so overcome with !YAY! that I had to leave the room as soon as I got off the phone with him. I couldn’t wait to call my girlfriends. It was pretty awesome. We squealed, and described him, and provided verbatim transcripts of the conversation. It was all great girly fun.
Today wasn’t as awesome.
Fresh from an evening and morning full of daydreams and excitement, I went to see him today and learned a new euphemism for “divorced,” which is what he was yesterday. Today he was “technically” married. I’ll give him credit for not dropping that on me six months from now but it goes without saying that my excitement from yesterday has cooled considerably. He is legally separated so I suppose I’m not a home-wrecker but it still seems vaguely wrong.
I’m torn. This is very unlikely to end well. Not because he isn’t the swell guy he seems to be but because he’s already been more of a distraction than I welcome. I’m already a person I don’t like. That person who reacts to a flicker of interest by becoming super excited and obsessive. I’m the person already with the most to lose--the one who is more into it. The person who has to work to dial it down a notch. People in relationships rarely respect that person. I’d like to feel more like my approach to grown-up relationships reflects that I’m in my 30’s. Instead I’m writing in my grown-up journal about a boy who hasn’t called me yet.
I’m putting ‘being over this’ on the to-do list.
It seems wrong, however to write him completely off and treat him like a pariah just because things didn’t work out quite they way I’m sure he hoped it would when he married. I don’t want him to feel that he’s doomed to be alone because he’s in between the life he knew and whatever is next for him. Ugh...I do this every time. I get wrapped up in not hurting people’s feelings. He’s a big boy. Big enough to pursue me through the pain and big enough to find a suitable substitute for me. I’m not that important and it’s not that deep for him.
I’ll always have yesterday. It was fun to imagine the possibilities. It’s the one thing I think I might miss if I inexplicably end up being married. No more moments of delighting in the potential of a new person and no more marveling the seemingly magic coincidences that bring those people into your life. Onward and upward.
Lowered Expectations
The Beatles were on to something. I’m already nostalgic for yesterday. Yesterday, Mr. Coffee asked me out and I was so overcome with !YAY! that I had to leave the room as soon as I got off the phone with him. I couldn’t wait to call my girlfriends. It was pretty awesome. We squealed, and described him, and provided verbatim transcripts of the conversation. It was all great girly fun.
Today wasn’t as awesome.
Fresh from an evening and morning full of daydreams and excitement, I went to see him today and learned a new euphemism for “divorced,” which is what he was yesterday. Today he was “technically” married. I’ll give him credit for not dropping that on me six months from now but it goes without saying that my excitement from yesterday has cooled considerably. He is legally separated so I suppose I’m not a home-wrecker but it still seems vaguely wrong.
I’m torn. This is very unlikely to end well. Not because he isn’t the swell guy he seems to be but because he’s already been more of a distraction than I welcome. I’m already a person I don’t like. That person who reacts to a flicker of interest by becoming super excited and obsessive. I’m the person already with the most to lose--the one who is more into it. The person who has to work to dial it down a notch. People in relationships rarely respect that person. I’d like to feel more like my approach to grown-up relationships reflects that I’m in my 30’s. Instead I’m writing in my grown-up journal about a boy who hasn’t called me yet.
I’m putting ‘being over this’ on the to-do list.
It seems wrong, however to write him completely off and treat him like a pariah just because things didn’t work out quite they way I’m sure he hoped it would when he married. I don’t want him to feel that he’s doomed to be alone because he’s in between the life he knew and whatever is next for him. Ugh...I do this every time. I get wrapped up in not hurting people’s feelings. He’s a big boy. Big enough to pursue me through the pain and big enough to find a suitable substitute for me. I’m not that important and it’s not that deep for him.
I’ll always have yesterday. It was fun to imagine the possibilities. It’s the one thing I think I might miss if I inexplicably end up being married. No more moments of delighting in the potential of a new person and no more marveling the seemingly magic coincidences that bring those people into your life. Onward and upward.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Original Blog: "It's still pretty much about a boy"
It's still pretty much about a boy
Original post date: 10 Jan 08
Tomorrow promises to be a busy day and I believe that Mr. Coffee and I are supposed to grab a coffee and see if we’ve exhausted everything that we have to talk about or if we might want to have even more coffee together. I’m hoping he doesn’t ask me what I do for fun. Mostly because I’ve just realized what a lame question that is. I’m probably just showing what a dull person I am but I don’t do anything for fun. I have fun but I don’t do fun. I’m not even sure what fun means. If I tell him what I do with my spare time (read, write, walk dog, take pictures of leaves, occasional zip lining*) as my version of fun, he’s likely to have an important meeting to get to.
And to think, I’m still single. This guy is so in for a treat. Lucky dog.
*With the exception of sandwiches, I’ve never zip lined anything. That would make me interesting which is why I’ve never done it and I'm not even a 100% sure what it is.
Original post date: 10 Jan 08
Tomorrow promises to be a busy day and I believe that Mr. Coffee and I are supposed to grab a coffee and see if we’ve exhausted everything that we have to talk about or if we might want to have even more coffee together. I’m hoping he doesn’t ask me what I do for fun. Mostly because I’ve just realized what a lame question that is. I’m probably just showing what a dull person I am but I don’t do anything for fun. I have fun but I don’t do fun. I’m not even sure what fun means. If I tell him what I do with my spare time (read, write, walk dog, take pictures of leaves, occasional zip lining*) as my version of fun, he’s likely to have an important meeting to get to.
And to think, I’m still single. This guy is so in for a treat. Lucky dog.
*With the exception of sandwiches, I’ve never zip lined anything. That would make me interesting which is why I’ve never done it and I'm not even a 100% sure what it is.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Recycling; it's not just for bottles and cans aka Old posts from the first blog
From a previous blog, devoid of patrons, I am retelling the story of Mr. Coffee. I have been meaning to get the old blog, created on Apple's unfriendly iWeb app, archived with this blog so tonight when my head is full of competing streams of thought, I thought I would resume the archival process by documenting more of my encounters with strange men. Sigh.
Original post date: 7 Jan 2008
About a Boy
I met a cute guy today and it was great. We had been flirting on the phone the week before and today he stopped by. His pretext in doing so was plausible but fairly transparent. He wanted to check me out and it looks like we might go out for coffee later this week. I’m pretty excited about it but trying sorta hard not to be. It just so happens that I’m going out of town for a few days and can’t even begin to think about coffee with him until Friday. What fortuitous timing. I’m going to have a great distraction and perhaps by Friday I can count on being a little less spastic. He’s got great eyes and warm, soft hands. I’m so happy that he’s cute! When he was flirting with me last week, I thought, oh great, some guy with a face for radio is coming on to me over the phone. There’s no way he’s cute and even if he is, I don’t like making a connection with people that can’t see me. I need them to know what they are getting into. No one needs the ‘oh’ face when someone sees you and isn’t attracted to the in-person you. I totally hope we at least hang out long enough to kiss. How twelve am I?
The best part of this all is that I’m happy. Having a little flirt, having the potential for something fun and light to come into my life--it feeds my soul. And if my good fortune continues and there’s at least enough contact for there to be contact, that’s some pretty great stuff too. Intoxicating and addictive stuff but pretty great all the same.
**I'll be posting this thread in its entirety over the next week, with one archival post a day.**
Original post date: 7 Jan 2008
About a Boy
I met a cute guy today and it was great. We had been flirting on the phone the week before and today he stopped by. His pretext in doing so was plausible but fairly transparent. He wanted to check me out and it looks like we might go out for coffee later this week. I’m pretty excited about it but trying sorta hard not to be. It just so happens that I’m going out of town for a few days and can’t even begin to think about coffee with him until Friday. What fortuitous timing. I’m going to have a great distraction and perhaps by Friday I can count on being a little less spastic. He’s got great eyes and warm, soft hands. I’m so happy that he’s cute! When he was flirting with me last week, I thought, oh great, some guy with a face for radio is coming on to me over the phone. There’s no way he’s cute and even if he is, I don’t like making a connection with people that can’t see me. I need them to know what they are getting into. No one needs the ‘oh’ face when someone sees you and isn’t attracted to the in-person you. I totally hope we at least hang out long enough to kiss. How twelve am I?
The best part of this all is that I’m happy. Having a little flirt, having the potential for something fun and light to come into my life--it feeds my soul. And if my good fortune continues and there’s at least enough contact for there to be contact, that’s some pretty great stuff too. Intoxicating and addictive stuff but pretty great all the same.
**I'll be posting this thread in its entirety over the next week, with one archival post a day.**
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