i want this to be a place where i come and, if not write about important and more universal themes than the boring particulars of my life, then at least write well about something. i want this blog to be a more literary endeavor.
i don't want this to simply be a place where i come to complain about stuff, because i hate the sound of whining.
but sometimes...you just gotta be a whiny bitch.
this is where i make this all cool and literary, by doing non-linear blogging. ready?
saturday night i helped close the resturaunt i work at, like i always do, and stayed afterwards with some of the other employees for discount (and sometimes free) drinks, like i frequently do. i have a manager at this restuaraunt who is the sister of the owner. she's kind of a firecracker. outrageously cute. six years older than me. mostly single. italian (....what can i say? i love italian broads). she is like five feet tall, and blonde, and looks like she's 23. needless to say she is crush worthy, and thus, i have a crush on her. just a little one. mostly though, she's a good hang, and i don't have a lot of friends and while she's got it together and i don't, we're both out of long term relationships, and swearing bachelorhood. so how fun would it be to have a gal pal again, i think to myself. i haven't had one since highschool, really, and the ones i'd had were mostly all platonic; it totally worked out for me. i love hanging out with girls, and i get along better with them far better than i do guys sometimes. part of it is i'm comfortable with the sexual tension. i'm super flirty, and manager girl responds well to it, and i like that interplay.
this is, more or less, what i want from manager-girl. she had talked about us hanging out before, and would mention it in passing, but it never came to pass.
this is where saturday night comes in.
basically the two drinks i had grew me a couple balls and just as everyone is leaving the parking lot at work i call manager-girl's cell:
me -- hey
her -- hey, what's up?
me -- so, when are you going to ask me to hang out with you...
her --
me -- cuz i know you want to, so you should just ask me to. i mean, i know you're shy and all that (she isn't really)
her -- well, what are you doing right now?
me -- (not believing that worked) um, i don't know, just driving home i guess
her -- well, where are you?
me -- right near main and transit
her -- okay, well i'll give you directions and you can come over...
(me getting directions, end of conversation.)
and so i hung out with her at her way cool house. its actually the lower apartment of a house; the upstairs she rents to a tennant. not that that's important really, but she showed me a bunch of pictures of her remodeling, and we drank some wine. and we looked at other pictures of her family and drank more wine. then we had wine with cheese. then she turned on portishead. then we sat on the couch and listened to more portishead and lenny kravitz and stevie wonder and fiona apple. and talked and talked and drank and drank and two bottles of wine later i'm pretty goddamn drunk (i come to find out i drank the two bottles mostly by myself) but still kind of holding it together. i couldn't tell you what we talked about. she made me an open faced peanut butter and honey sandwich, and i ate a cookie and drank a coke with lime somewhere in there too.
and i know it sounds like i'm building to some kind of climax, but that's the thing -- there's no climax to be had. nothing happened. she offered to let me sleep on her couch rather than drive home but i insisted on driving. but i never made a move, we never got to that place -- we were on good behavior -- me, because i didn't want to fuck up a good hang and her for god knows what reason other than that maybe she is kind of dating some guy she went to highschool with all those years ago.
she says she isn't dating him, and that he's not her boyfriend. but if he's not now, he will be, and it kind of pisses me off. he's an all right guy and everything, that's not it. and i keep telling myself i don't like her like that even though i kind of really do, but that's not it either. really, its that if she starts dating this guy, there will be no reason for her to hang out with me. its just one of those things where lonely people can find some kind of meaningful, and on a lot of levels, fulfilling relationship within the guidelines of platonic friendship and i love that. i don't want to date her -- but i don't want her to date anyone. because then i lose a potential friend, and a good hang. and then even the sexual chemistry gets swallowed; women don't let themselves admit that anyone other than who they are dating is attractive.
thing is now i'm afraid i look weird to her; i am totally and completely jealous of her boy friend, but not really for the reason that she thinks. and how do i explain that? it doesn't make sense. but i guess its just a problem with my expectations.
and now, you know what? it feels like i have those feelings for her now. its almost a reflex, really. i am acting a certain way and doing certain things and going through certain motions and they are producing weird hormones in my brain and they are making me think i like this manager girl. i like her fine. i'm not in love with her, and i just can't be with anybody right now. and she is growing less and less interested in me by the day, by the hour. even since saturday, its been noticeable. and i hate it. i can see it all happening and i hate it but there's nothing i can do.
maybe its time to get a new job.
dammit.
