Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Blubbering mootard

Okay, I am having a rather difficult week and am frustrated. Over the last week I have really been trying to put myself in some new situations, meet new people and be aggressive with getting out of this damn house. The trick about forcing yourself into new situations is that it's necessary to prevent personality atrophy and yet carries a great risk of vulnerability or the possibility of wounded feelings, this is why sometimes you have to force yourself to do it in the first place.

Friday night I attended, with my newfound Denver gfriend, a "singles mixer" a Fado's, a yuppie but well-designed "Irish pub" near Coors field, complete with textured walls, cool dingy lighting and two old guys who played Goo Goo Dolls and Tom Petty covers. I think going with a friend I wasn't very nervous, but I'm pretty gregarious so I'm not usually skittish to begin with. There were four women and four "men." One of these guys was "the guy" we all know - a 17-year-old alcoholic in the body of an overweight twenty-something "man" with spikey hair and some kind of computer phone complete with keypad, laser beams and a direct dial to Grey Goose and whose every other word was fuck. Really charming. One fellow, Wesley (does not even the name give you some set-up), acted like he had been watching those government social skills films from the 50's and imitating them. [Robotic voice] "Why hello! My name is Wesley," [shakes hand twice] "and what might your name be? That's a wonderful name. Welcome to the table. And what is it that you do?" [looks interested, perfect posture] He was the kind of pseudo-intellectual who couldn't actually be a critical thinker or carry on a conversation, just rattle off statistics and his CV. The third fellow was a crazy-haired, poorly toothed art teacher from "the Springs." So this guy had drive like two hours to get to this bar and "had no vices." He was a Christian Scientist and a BFA who didn't drink. He kept gleefully and proudly pointing to his soda when he declared
this(I briefly entertained a fantasy of seducing him into some shots and then watching him do a beer bong in one of his "awesome welding sculptures") and dissed my only actually interested question to him about First Fridays art walks. "Well, I mean whatever. Just come downtown and follow the crowds of yuppie people wandering around." The fourth guy, a very sweet but dull guy had teeth too big for his mouth, like on the sides. This gave him a kind of false accent and sort of an Eeek the Cat voice at the same time. He worked making "road tape" and had been through the police academy but was proudly declaring the easiest professors who "didn't make them do anything." I was kind of glad that he hadn't followed his pursuit of becoming a cop because I got this impression that not having to "do anything" was a goal in life. I had a great time with the organizer my Denver gfriend but we had to pull a, "Danni's not feeling well" escape down the main stairs, shortly BUSTED by the art maniac but then into open air. We had a lot of fun, and while I didn't get the networking I wanted, a cool gfriend is much more appealing than some lame guys.

Saturday I decided to meet for a quick lunch someone I had been chatting with via email. It sounded as though we had a lot in common, I had responded to his posting b/c it sounded like he had really excellent and similar taste in music but a clever headline. To meet for a sandwich, on the way to my dirty stadium job, was kind of last minute and I rode my bike so I went with wet hair and my Target associate style uniform on. I must have looked like a crazy person, trying to navigate Colfax with flying hair and an oddly tight shirt, my GINORMOUS backpack and bike. I had imagine that this sandwich would be just a sandwich and I could tick him off as just another Denvertard, those twenty-something boarder/biker/runner/smoker guys who have sadly stunted maturities. We said our awkward hellos and gave a handshake then ducked inside the dark, cool b&g for lunch. Having been partying for two days straight, his choice for beer gave me the freedom for a Bloody Mary (ah, see ya hangover!). And we sat, and chatted, and the weirdest fucking thing happened. He was interesting. He was intelligent. He was handsome, ethically aware and funny. I admit that right now my self-image isn't that great and I almost find comfort in the fact of dating losers b/c then I'm still kind of in control and kind of in a power seat. I know that sounds unhealthy and it probably is. So here I am with someone who I can already tell is a great person and I get nervous. We keep talking, and I ditch work, and we end up spending the entire day together. It was that bizarre phenomenon when you meet someone and you can't believe you another piece of the puzzle. That's how I felt when Lynn and I started hanging out in high school and became fast friends. And then we kept drinking and it kind of became weird and intense, I spent Sunday in agony of the person who (I am frequently this person) drinks too much and fucks up something cool. Now I find myself checking email, and my phone - did he call? Did he leave a message? What does this message mean, is this a turn into the just friends lane? I must remind myself I am not, in fact, 13.

I realize that what is difficult right now is that dating is like applying for jobs. You must pass tests, in one respect or another, pass judgments and wait for someone to decide who is the best candidate. Am I too chubby, did I smile enough or talk too much, did I fidget with my necklace, did I present my best self? And right now, the worst part is that I am not thinking about anything but finding a way to take him a lunch over his noon break or go for a walk in the park; we only went out once. I feel like some crazy Mary frickin poppins hybrid and if history tells me anything it's that this is the time for self-defense mode. I got a call this morning about some dumb waitressing gig, and they wanted someone with experience; I had presented them a polished resume and everything. I get turned down even for a waitressing gig. And I know it shouldn't bother me, but I am feeling rather alone and unwanted, despite my social progress. I don't know if I'll be able to stay here much longer without a job!

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