Continued Humiliation

I was seriously thinking about this joker I went out with the other night.
You know, thinking about him in the sense of, "He's not going to call me anytime soon."
He probs thought I was much cooler from a distance, that I was in on some Magical Scene of Rockabilly People and that I worked maybe as an underground dj or something far less standard than insurance.
He probs wanted to get a piece and God knows I do, too but that's not how I roll.
He probs thought I was too much like a puppy but like a serious puppy instead of one that's just all fun and wriggly. A Jack Russell terrier instead of a Golden Retriever which.... fair enough.
At any rate, I'm not feeling like anything is going to happen even though I am totally up for the happening of a serious boyfriend in my life.

And homeboy had the right stuff - the age, the mellow, the dirt under his fingers, the good taste, and the casual reservedness of someone who knows how to be adult and appropriate outside of the house but who you KNOW has a delightfully perverted streak behind closed doors.
He's the kind of guy I WANT to really want me, and not for some romp where he can later be all, "I hooked up with this girl in roller derby. She wanted more but I didn't."
Yeah, no thanks on that. I'll go ahead and keep my fishnets on and head on home.

Now, I'm not saying by a long shot that this characterization applies to the guy I went out with the other night. I don't know the dude all that well and I have no clue as to what he's thinking or what he wanted to happen. In no way am I going to actually assign a value to the whole thing.

Point: I want to date people like him instead of the raging alcoholic, borderline abusive, politically conservative people I've loved in the past. There are two of them and I'm not naming names. I want to date people I would settle down with, people who fit my life without caveat.

Point: I am really down on dating and meeting people and I have been for quite some time now. I think there's a West Coast Standard of Beauty and I fear that I don't make the ridiculous cut. I feel like I'm too much in the cracks - there's the world-class education I have, the decent job, and the derby and it all equals one person but no piece of it outweighs the other or should be used to identify me with any crowd or carriage. People have a hard time when they can't quantify you easily. It's our culture, I guess. We don't look very deeply or for very long because that's time consuming. So we don't know what to do with people who make no sense without a bit of study. A lot of people need pop quizzes instead of good, old-fashioned research and development of a thesis about someone.

Point: WHYISN'TANYONEMADLYINLOVEWITHMEBYNOW?????????? Jesus! I have dumb kids who want to "do it" and guys in their 30s asking me for relationship advice and the only person who's told me that I'm pretty all summer long is my friend who is into really old men with missing limbs. No shit. If you are over 50 and you are missing a limb (or preferably limbs), email me. I've got a lady just for you. She's a total freak and I love her for it.

Bright spot! I did get a bunch of compliments laid on me, none of which have so far led to a phone call for a follow-up study session. Perhaps I'm being rash and not allowing proper time to pass.
But here's my fear.
But let's jump ahead because we all know the truth already. We all know he's not going to ask me out again except maybe if none of his friends can go see some obscure band that he really wants to see and doesn't want to look like he's there alone.

And Jen? Apologies. Some of this (all the good parts) is coming out of our email this morning.

My fear is that I'm going to run into this dude and it's going to be incredibly awkward because he never called me. I'm going to see him around and my fear is that it's going to be abundantly clear to any fly on any wall that I wanted him to call me and I got dissed, iridescent eyes or not.

He works out at my gym.
That was me, allowing you a half-second to soak in the 100% probability that further humiliation is right around the corner for me.

You know, because I don't get enough of that on a day-to-day basis. As if the cold sore incident wasn't enough and Fate has to REALLY drive it home for me that I'm awkward and unlovable.

I can just imagine that he doesn't call and that the next time I hear from him, it's while I am "running" on a treadmill. When I am on a treadmill, I don't want to be identified as ME and waved to. I certainly don't want to be subjected to the "second-over/why DIDN'T I ever call that girl?" look. While I am on the treadmill, I am totally fine just being identified as "That One Chubby White Girl on the Treadmill with Her Pants Falling Off Her Ever-Blubber-Jiggling Ass; The One Who Sweats A Lot!"
Nothing more, nothing less.

Or what if he decides to say hello while I'm trying to use one of those gigantic ab balls?
Nice timing, asshole!
I'm 5'2" - my feet barely touch the ground on those things! And while I have a flat stomach, it's all I got. You can't see that if I am on an ab ball. On those things, even Skeletor would pop a couple of rolls while trying to heave his double-chin up into a sit-up.
Christ! This could be - strike that - WILL be - so terrible.

I can only imagine that it is my luck to meet someone who is completely the kind of guy I want to be meeting; completely the opposite of the guys I usually meet ergo infinitely a better match.
And he's totally not interested in me.
And he runs into me in the gym when I've got sweaty greasy hair falling in my face while the fat bubble on my left arm bulges as I am doing a tricep exercise and he chooses THAT moment to say hello, THAT fucking moment; it couldn't wait.

So yeah.
There ya go.
Not only do I have a hard time meeting the guys I want to be dating but I have a serious fear of them rejecting me, not even just rejecting me but a fear that my life is SO DEVOID in terms of timing and general sexiness that I will not only be rejected, I will also suffer humiliation of the worst kind - the kind that is all in your head and that really doesn't fucking matter, now does it.

And of course the new satellite radio just played Galilleo by the Indigo Girls: "You know me, I take EVERYTHING so seriously…"
I need to go drive around the block and cry my eyes out for a second.
Then I need to get over it and go to the gym and just you know… Hope and wait for the time when I do get it right.

arizonasarah at 12:57 p.m.

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