I am completely incapable of sustaining a healthy realtionship that lasts over a week, although I do seem to find boys who want to try, or maybe they just want to get in my pants. Which leads to fun games that harken back to highschool, and not letting boys in your pants. All that aside, I had a date last week. Well actually I didn't.
I met a boy a little over two months ago. He gave me his number, we had a fun night of hanging out with my crazy friends from work. He told me he had a website with his art on it, and I should check it out. I did and well, let's just say it made me uncomfortable going out with him. I didn't like his work, it wasn't offensive in any moral sense, I just didn't like it. I decided it was best in this situation to blow him off. He called me a few days later, we played phone tag. I didn't return the call one day. This worked for a few weeks, until I got into the elevator at work one day and he was there. I couldn't contain myself and started laughing hysterically. He didn't recognize me at first. He was cuter then I remembered. I felt bad all of a sudden. To make a long story short, I kindly blew him off again. He called me again last week, I decided to go out with him. He has been asking me out for two months, he is nice, he is good looking. I was being stupid. I spoke to him, he asked when we would be getting together. Much to his surprise, I said it had to be that night or the next. I wasn't going to give up a weekend night for this, and I would be celebrating my birthday. The date was set, I would call him thursday after work. He cancelled.
Last year I went on a date that ended up in the emergency room.
I should probably start with my first date with this boy to be fair.
He and I had never really talked much, the details of how I knew him are complicated. We didn't exactly work together, but saw eachother at work. I saw him during the day he asked if I would like to hang out that night. A half hour before he met me for drinks, he said he didn't have any money. I was already ready and dressed, so I offered to buy him a few drinks. I should have said maybe next time. After a few drinks and some food, we decided to see of we could rent a car at 2am. We discovered that his credit cards did work on our trip. The next morning I woke up in a motel and he was in the next bed. The original plan was to drive to Atlantic City, but it changed to Philadelphia. Although it was a lot of fun, he turned out to not be that bright and didn't understand my humor at all. He told me stories of how his real dad died in jail of a cocaine overdose and his stepfather who was the kind of crazy white trash that I have only seen documentaries on. We sort of decided that we weren't meant to be. I said that if we were going to fool around, we should only do it at work, and he stared at me blankly. This went on for 24 hours.
"I don't know where this is going, and since we work together......"
"But I love you."
I was so on point funny during this whole time, and he didn't get one joke. It kind of sucked.
The only thing I wanted to see in the whole city was the Mutter Museum, he didn't seem to interested. I made him go anyway.
Somehow we had both expressed interest in seeing an upcoming concert. We didn't speak much for two weeks, but I felt obligated to ask him. I am not sure why he said yes, but he did. He still owed me money from our last outing.
We get to the show, it is sold out and packed. Somehow I had my hand near the bathroom doorway, and someone decided to kick it closed. I pull my hand away, and my fingernail is now hanging on my a small piece of flesh, and I am bleeding. I run back into the bathroom and calmly take care of it. The occupants of the bathroom revel him in stories of my level headedness in this time of crisis. I didn't want to go to the hospital because I really wanted to see the show. 15 minutes later, the pain is getting to me, and I am slowly going into shock. We cab it up to the emergency room. He makes dumb idle chatter with anyone we meet. He is starting to annoy the fuck out of me. He starts to complain about the really good show we're missing. He asks me if I have ever been clinically depressed, because it sounds as if my life has really sucked. I mention that this might not be the most appropriate topic of conversation at this point, being in the emergency room and all. I tell him he really doesn't have to stay here if he doesn't want to. He leaves with a "Call me tomorrow and tell me if everything went okay..." about the time they mentioned x-rays and stitches. They take me into one of those little cubicles with the curtain and give me a shot. I start crying from the pain, the doctor leaves, 15 minutes late when she comes back, I am still crying. She seems a little put off by this. I describe the intense pain I am in. She won't give me any good drugs now, because I AM ALONE.
I finally leave, and it is bitter cold outside, I take a cab to my friends bar and proceed to get completely hammered. I saw him at work, he never asked how it went, or about why my hand was bandaged for like a month. He called a few weeks later to ask me to another show, I declined.
Posted 3:00 PM by J.Ro