New Opportunities Knocking.
I often wonder whether there are periods of my life in which time literally speeds up. Lately, it seems like almost everything that has happened to me has been moving at an expedited rate. It`s like looking at trees when you are standing in a forest, versus looking at the forest from the car window as you speed by it.
Anyway, after the PhD boy disaster last week and the confusion that accompanied his blase follow-up emaill, I have heard nothing from him. I had a small torch burning hoping that I would get a call, another email, or he would show up at the Black Tie Event and sweep me off my feet.
In the meantime, I decided that I would try to dust myself off and get back out there. I re-posted my match ad. I really didn`t think that match would yield anyone interesting, since it hasn`t really coughed up anyone spectacular in a while, but I figured it would be good for my bruised ego to get some winks and emails from the random guys out there.
In a strange and rather deje-vu-ish turn of events, I recieved two emails from two guys that seemed pretty interesting. The first was a computer consultant. His picture wasn`t all that great, and his profile was completely boring, but he sent an interesting email that revealed that we had lived in almost all the same places. I`ve lived all over the place-- including overseas. The fact that he had lived in exactly the same spots was too much of a coincidence to pass up. Anyway, we exchanged a series of emails, and chatted on IM for a couple hours on Friday afternoon and ultimately decided to meet for a drink on Friday night. For the purposes of this story, he will be known as the Nuzzler.
I arrived at the bar, and he was already there. He looked just like his picture-- which really was neither here nor there as far as I could tell. The conversation was fine, if slightly banal initially, but these first match dates often take a little time to ramp up. We shifted over to a couch area in the bar, and he sat next to me. We ended up talking about porn for a while, which was a little odd, but not bad, and didn`t feel sketchy to me. What I did begin to notice was that he never quite answered the questions I would ask...it was as if he re-wrote my question in his mind, and then answered that one instead. It was a little irritating, to say the least, but I had a few drinks in me, so I let it roll.
Then he kissed me. This was pretty much the end of it for me. He is a WIERD kisser. I can`t abide wierd kissers. It was quick, like a peck, except open mouth, with no tongue. I felt like I was playing a super fast game of suck and blow without the card. THEN, as if that wasn`t odd enough, he did this very bizarre disconcerting nuzzling thing. He would give a couple of the wierd pecks, then slide his face next to mine and kind of rub cheeks with me. I was forced to stare at the vinyl couch while this was going on. I realize, nuzzling is lovely when you really care about someone...but I really didn`t care about this guy because WE JUST MET. So, I`m wondering when the nuzzling is going to stop, because I`m bored.
Finally, he drives me home. More wierd kissing in the car. I didn`t really want to, but I felt obligated at this point. Then, just as I`m about to get out of the car, he seals the deal: "So, V, aren`t you going to invite me up?" Is he kidding me?? It`s a first date. No way.
In the end, this wasn`t a terrible date, but the nuzzling bugged me, and the conversation wasn`t ever really interesting enough to really engage me. Next!
The second match guy and I started emailing earlier in the week, and have been writing longer and longer emails each time around. He`s an adjunct literature lecturer at a local University and is truly madly deeply in love with words. He`s currently seeking a PhD in literature. Yes, I know, just what I need...another PhD. But this time I`m not buying OJ, so maybe I`ll have better luck.
Anyway, I am at my basest level, a word geek, a lover of the lexical jungle. So far, his emails have included swoon-worthy material such as incredibly beautiful passages from Whitman, and great exegeses of some newer novels he`s been reading. I`ve included a few choice quotes from the Murakami book I`m reading. I`m not describing this well, so let me just cut and paste a few lines that he`s written to me-- with the caveat that I DO understand that anyone out there reading this who isn`t a big lit-geek like me would probably see this stuff as truly trite, contrived, and probably, just gag-inducing. Whatever, so sue me...I dig this crap:
Great poetry does things to me that I don't think I can begin to
describe adequately. I feel it on a physical level when the poem's
really good. It's almost like being kicked in the chest, but in a
good way
and in response to the passage I sent him by Murakami:
Wow. Murakami's amazing. I've never read anything of his, but he is now officially on my (ever-lengthening) list of books and authors I need to read. That's an amazing passage. It makes me want to track down some Schubert and try not to collapse under the weight of the beauty created by the accumulation of human imperfections. And you don't have to apologize for including passages from favorite authors. I love discovering new writers to swoon over.
And...as I write this...I just recieved an email including his phone number...Ooooh. Now what? A part of me wants to call now. Another part of me wants him to just suggest we meet up already....lol.
It`s strange, because the personal communications are in there too-- the usual exchange of preferences and dislikes, but our exchanges on books and words are langourous, verging on passionate. I`m definitely peaked about Lit Professor. However, in light of what happened with PhD boy, I`m going to make an affirmative effort to move slowly on this one. The hard part of course is that slow is counterintuitive for me.
Conveniently, I`m leaving for DC in the morning for a couple of days. I`m going to hear a couple of cases argued at the Supreme Court. I`ll also be visiting with some friends, and meeting up with a fellow blogger. This forces me to take a breather. Of course, a breather sometimes results in more time in which to develop an inner fantasy-- aka, head pixie.
Here we go again, folks. :)
