Well, now you know the news! I'm beaming. Beaming! It's kind of weird that life is just moving right along in ignorance of the fact that I'm about to begin this new job... I almost wish I had no time to prepare so that I could just jump right in. Patience, as I'm sure you realize, is not my strong suit.
Anyway, I spent the earlier part of the day having an English brunch with Aunt J, who also showed me the best place in town to buy overpriced recycled goods and then gave me a really neat little table that fits into my apartment all perfect-like. She brought it (and me) to my apartment in her car, which is like a roller-coaster when she drives it down 7th Avenue at 40 miles per hour! It was shaping up to be a good day. I ran, I ate, I received furniture, things were going very well.
...and then I sort of went on a date. No, sorry, I did go on a date.
On paper everything looked good; a grad student, in pursuit of a MFA in Media Studies. By day a graphic designer. Likes a lot of the same music I do (which isn't a big deal, but it's something). Friend of a friend in Chicago, who told him to get in touch with me.
We talked on the phone yesterday and agreed to meet up for dinner. I told him to pick a spot and let me know, since I like to see what other people come up with. On the phone I was bored with the contents of my music library and he recommended a new band that I wound up really liking! Nice. It's not a date, I kept telling myself. I was just meeting a new friend. I ignored the fact that I told myself that the last couple of times I've met up with people.
We agreed on a street corner (what is it about people in New York meeting on street corners instead of at specified locations?) on the East side of Midtown, which is like no man's land for me...I don't know a damn thing over there. We did that thing on the phone where you're looking for someone in a crowd and can't quite find them, only to realize that the person was standing ten feet away from you the whole time. I turned around and smiled a smile that quickly became forced.
First of all, he immediately asked me, "where would you like to go?" I had already delegated the responsibility of finding a dinner location, and was a little irritated that he hadn't followed through. But it wasn't just that, it was more the way he asked the question. It was marked with a quality of tone that made me understand that, at least as far as he was concerned, this was indeed a date.
It shouldn't have been a problem for me, really. On some subconscious level underneath my denial, I had known it was going to be a date... I guess I just hoped it would be a better one, and for all intents and purposes it should have been. He was good looking and smart, successful in his endeavors and ambitious to learn more. He was interested in my work and was not shy about telling me I looked nice. He talked about art and music and film theory (hey!) and academia... He's a year older than me, we're both from Northeast Ohio, and we like a lot of the same books and movies...
But he was so... bland. There's some X factor that just wasn't there, and I couldn't place my finger on it. I put on my happy face anyway, chatted about our mutual friend, laughed at his jokes, had reasonably engaging conversation, told him my Katrina story, nodded when he suggested we check out a museum together.
If he calls, I'll go, I guess. It leaves me wondering though, what's the X factor? Is it intrinsic geekiness? Is it something about the sense of humor? Maybe I need someone to challenge me on many levels. Is there some physical chemistry factor that left me tingling on the subway a couple of weeks ago? What exactly is the thing that makes me click with someone? And why did this nice guy leave the sour taste of disdain in my mouth?
Anyway, I spent the earlier part of the day having an English brunch with Aunt J, who also showed me the best place in town to buy overpriced recycled goods and then gave me a really neat little table that fits into my apartment all perfect-like. She brought it (and me) to my apartment in her car, which is like a roller-coaster when she drives it down 7th Avenue at 40 miles per hour! It was shaping up to be a good day. I ran, I ate, I received furniture, things were going very well.
...and then I sort of went on a date. No, sorry, I did go on a date.
On paper everything looked good; a grad student, in pursuit of a MFA in Media Studies. By day a graphic designer. Likes a lot of the same music I do (which isn't a big deal, but it's something). Friend of a friend in Chicago, who told him to get in touch with me.
We talked on the phone yesterday and agreed to meet up for dinner. I told him to pick a spot and let me know, since I like to see what other people come up with. On the phone I was bored with the contents of my music library and he recommended a new band that I wound up really liking! Nice. It's not a date, I kept telling myself. I was just meeting a new friend. I ignored the fact that I told myself that the last couple of times I've met up with people.
We agreed on a street corner (what is it about people in New York meeting on street corners instead of at specified locations?) on the East side of Midtown, which is like no man's land for me...I don't know a damn thing over there. We did that thing on the phone where you're looking for someone in a crowd and can't quite find them, only to realize that the person was standing ten feet away from you the whole time. I turned around and smiled a smile that quickly became forced.
First of all, he immediately asked me, "where would you like to go?" I had already delegated the responsibility of finding a dinner location, and was a little irritated that he hadn't followed through. But it wasn't just that, it was more the way he asked the question. It was marked with a quality of tone that made me understand that, at least as far as he was concerned, this was indeed a date.
It shouldn't have been a problem for me, really. On some subconscious level underneath my denial, I had known it was going to be a date... I guess I just hoped it would be a better one, and for all intents and purposes it should have been. He was good looking and smart, successful in his endeavors and ambitious to learn more. He was interested in my work and was not shy about telling me I looked nice. He talked about art and music and film theory (hey!) and academia... He's a year older than me, we're both from Northeast Ohio, and we like a lot of the same books and movies...
But he was so... bland. There's some X factor that just wasn't there, and I couldn't place my finger on it. I put on my happy face anyway, chatted about our mutual friend, laughed at his jokes, had reasonably engaging conversation, told him my Katrina story, nodded when he suggested we check out a museum together.
If he calls, I'll go, I guess. It leaves me wondering though, what's the X factor? Is it intrinsic geekiness? Is it something about the sense of humor? Maybe I need someone to challenge me on many levels. Is there some physical chemistry factor that left me tingling on the subway a couple of weeks ago? What exactly is the thing that makes me click with someone? And why did this nice guy leave the sour taste of disdain in my mouth?
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