An approriately ironic ending to the night
So more or less all week, I've been writing about relationships and stuff.
Earlier today, I was nice and called that girl I was almost dating a while back. She's been busy and sick in equal measures lately, so I'm not surprised we haven't talked more. (Especially since I don't often call because, y'know, hate the phone and don't know what her schedule is and stuff.) That was a nice, though short, chat.
Then tonight on the way to Spellbound, I ended up in a conversation with a random dude on the Metro when he asked to borrow a pen. It very quickly ran into relationship territory when he asked me if I was married and I told him I'd been happily single for a decade. Needless to say, he didn't believe that. I reassured him that, yes, indeed, it is possible because I am. That went in circles for a couple of minutes before he apparently gave up and moved on to other topics. Like religion and politics and "what is Goth?" (which really, I'm probably not the best person to answer that question, because, while I show up at the scene, I'm not really all that interested in being considered part of it). When he got off the train he wished me luck in finding a wife tonight.
*sigh* Most people just don't get it.
And, at the club, almost as a way of illustrating just how not on the prowl I am, it appears that there may still be a certain exceptionally attractive lady (who some of you may remember from the debacle I accidentally started last year, almost exactly) still flirting with me on the dance floor. I, of course, still don't know how to react to that all that well on the dance floor.
Especially on Valentine's Day.
Because, y'know, I want to avoid actual cliche as much as possible.
And I over think things.
The issue at hand is that I'm actually not looking for anything. Sure she's pretty darn stunning, but without actually knowing her, I don't care enough to push past the basic anxiety of a) her utter hotness and b) the fact that I have nothing other than a first line for the conversation in my head.
So, yeah, still not gung-ho on picking up chicks in the club. Pretty sure I never will be.
And I think I'm ok with that.
Next week... maybe something will be different. Maybe I'll be feeling more adventurous and shake up my status quo a little.
(So, if your out, keep an eye out--it may be a spectacular failure if I do anything... or, y'know, you can celebrate with me down the road if it leads to anything.)
Either way, definitely a good night out with a whole lot more chatting with people than I planned.
It was a good night.
(Apparently good and intriguing enough to spawn lots of brain ramble on the ride home.) :)
Earlier today, I was nice and called that girl I was almost dating a while back. She's been busy and sick in equal measures lately, so I'm not surprised we haven't talked more. (Especially since I don't often call because, y'know, hate the phone and don't know what her schedule is and stuff.) That was a nice, though short, chat.
Then tonight on the way to Spellbound, I ended up in a conversation with a random dude on the Metro when he asked to borrow a pen. It very quickly ran into relationship territory when he asked me if I was married and I told him I'd been happily single for a decade. Needless to say, he didn't believe that. I reassured him that, yes, indeed, it is possible because I am. That went in circles for a couple of minutes before he apparently gave up and moved on to other topics. Like religion and politics and "what is Goth?" (which really, I'm probably not the best person to answer that question, because, while I show up at the scene, I'm not really all that interested in being considered part of it). When he got off the train he wished me luck in finding a wife tonight.
*sigh* Most people just don't get it.
And, at the club, almost as a way of illustrating just how not on the prowl I am, it appears that there may still be a certain exceptionally attractive lady (who some of you may remember from the debacle I accidentally started last year, almost exactly) still flirting with me on the dance floor. I, of course, still don't know how to react to that all that well on the dance floor.
Especially on Valentine's Day.
Because, y'know, I want to avoid actual cliche as much as possible.
And I over think things.
The issue at hand is that I'm actually not looking for anything. Sure she's pretty darn stunning, but without actually knowing her, I don't care enough to push past the basic anxiety of a) her utter hotness and b) the fact that I have nothing other than a first line for the conversation in my head.
So, yeah, still not gung-ho on picking up chicks in the club. Pretty sure I never will be.
And I think I'm ok with that.
Next week... maybe something will be different. Maybe I'll be feeling more adventurous and shake up my status quo a little.
(So, if your out, keep an eye out--it may be a spectacular failure if I do anything... or, y'know, you can celebrate with me down the road if it leads to anything.)
Either way, definitely a good night out with a whole lot more chatting with people than I planned.
It was a good night.
(Apparently good and intriguing enough to spawn lots of brain ramble on the ride home.) :)